Colonel Cronus twisted his upper body to evade a perfectly aimed punch and grabbed a hard hold of Anderson's wrist. The pressure of his thumb against Anderson's Radial Artery made the doctor curl a lip in annoyance.

Cronus refused to let go; instead he twitched the very side of his mouth into a sneering grin. "Your pulse is racing, old man."

Anderson let out a short laugh and swept Cronus' left leg out from under him with a swift kick at the ankle. Both his hands sat on his hips as Cronus landed unceremoniously on his ass. "Who are you calling old man? You've got three years on me."

Cronus propped himself up on an elbow and smirked. "I've also got more cajones than you."

Anderson rolled his eyes and extended a hand to help his sparring partner to his feet. His eyes caught sight of five faces at the observation window, one of them pressed hard enough to squash his nose against the glass. He made no outward movement to indicate to the quintet that he'd seen them. "We have an audience."

"Good," Cronus huffed as he used Anderson's leverage to draw himself to a stand. "Maybe they'll learn something."

Anderson swallowed as he tried to steady his heavy breathing. "You'd think that after 3 years of successful missions you'd begin to cut them a little slack."

"When they stop behaving like little girls and cry every time they don't get their way, then maybe I will."

Anderson huffed as he strolled gingerly toward a bench on the side of the mat to retrieve a bottle of water. He didn't offer Cronus any, nor did he respond, until he'd drained the small bottle. When he did finally speak, his voice was low. "You were exactly the same when you started out, Cronus, and, if I recall correctly, you were a lot older than they are."

Cronus narrowed his eyes for a brief moment, then crouched low and invited Anderson to continue the fight with a 'come here' flick of his fingers. "I was never a cry-baby mommies-boy."

"And neither are any of my team."

Cronus remained in his crouch, still waving his fingers in invitation. "I've seen Mark cry more times than I've changed my underwear."

Anderson stood in a relaxed manner with one hand in his pocket successfully ignoring Cronus' request to continue the training. "He's been through a Hell of a lot for a man his age. The boy just sometimes needs release."

"Then get him laid."

Anderson's eyes rose briefly to the window, and then dropped back down to Cronus, who was crouching lower. "I really don't think…"

"The Swan is interested, let her turn him into a man."

"Sex is not the answer."

"Worked for me."

Anderson huffed and threw the empty bottle into a trash receptacle. "Jesus Christ, man."

"Look," he raised himself into a stand and slouched to one side. "The kid is wound up tighter than a virgin's…"

"Don't even say the word," Anderson was quick to interrupt.

"Get the boy a blonde, then. They're always good to go." He raised a sly brow. "Unless he's gay, then invite the Condor to have a go."

Anderson rubbed at his brow. "If Jason heard you say that, he'd skin you alive."

"He might be a more eager training partner than you. Jesus John, are we going to fight, or sit here like women?"

"Mark," Anderson breathed as he began a slow circle of Cronus. "Is not gay. He doesn't need me to line him up with a woman. Hell, the boy probably has a rampant sex life outside of this compound."

"He's too anal-retentive to be getting it."

"I could say the same about you."

"Fuck you."

Anderson smirked and thumbed at the side of his mouth. "It's been a while, eh?"

Cronus narrowed his eyes again and curled a lip. "That's dangerous ground."

"Ha!" Anderson threw his head back, but lowered it back to look at Cronus just as quickly. "Maybe the lad could teach you a little something."

"Give me the Swan for an hour and I'll show you just how much I don't need to know."

Anderson lunged quickly, body slamming into Cronus, who was not expecting such a swift attack. "Suggest something like that again, and I'll hand you off to Spectra, myself."

Cronus let out a low and pleased growl. "Finally, a fight worth having."

"How about I repeat your offer to Princess? I'm sure then you'll have a fight on your hands."

"What are you talking about, fight?" He smirked as he spun and kicked towards Anderson's head. "She'll probably set a date and time."

Anderson oomphed as Cronus' heel struck his stomach, but recovered quickly. "After she's finished throwing up, you mean."

"Oh, that's just juvenile."

"It seems it's contagious. Christ, Cronus put some effort into it, will ya?"

Cronus took a breath, snarled, and then palm-punched Anderson in the stomach, following up with a twist to throw him up over his shoulder. "Then put Mark in here with me for an hour, let me beat some maturity into him."

Anderson's feet skidded awkwardly along the mat, but he managed to remain almost on his feet after the throw. "You'd never survive him."

"He's nowhere near as skilled as his old man, John."

Anderson finally stumbled down onto a knee and panted as he looked up at Cronus. "One day he's going to find out. You know that, right?"

Cronus shrugged and let his gaze wander up to the observation window. "No he won't."

Anderson took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Curiosity will get the better of one of them soon enough, Cronus. They might not have snooped yet, but they'll try it eventually."

"Damage control, then. Make sure the information they get is wrong."

Anderson stood up and shook his head, lowering into a crouch mirroring the one Cronus moved in to earlier. "That's all they've been getting, Man. It'll come out eventually."

"Not if they don't have reason to look, John."

Anderson flicked his eyes upward, and then refocused his attention on his sparring partner. "Enough talk, let's do this."