Author's Note: Next chapter is here, for your reading pleasure. ;-) Remember since you're reading to please review!
Chapter Eighteen: When In Doubt, Use Your Fist
I was walking down the street, still fuming, when I heard footsteps behind me.
"I think I made myself clear, Will. I don't want to speak to you right now," I said loud enough for him to hear.
"It's not him. It's Reynolds, ma'am." came the reply.
I turned around, glaring at the medic. "What are you following me for?"
"N-nothing," he said upon seeing my expression. "I, uh, I just wanted to apologize for the scene back there."
I sighed and turned away. "I knew something like this would happen," I muttered.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I didn't mean to cause trouble."
I wasn't sure how to reply, and so we walked side by side in silence for a few steps.
"I don't think your husband likes me very much, El-Tee," the petty officer finally said. "Not that I blame him, I guess."
"He's normally easy-going," I said in Willis's defense. "But he gets very protective when it comes to me."
"You mean…jealous? Controlling?"
I shook my head, amused. "Not at all. He just wants to make sure I'm ok."
Reynolds turned red and looked away. "Right. Sorry, this is none of my business."
"Well, I suppose we should be getting back to base. You can tell Captain Kingston I'm completely pain-free all of a sudden," I said to the medic, hoping to steer the conversation in a more professional direction.
"Are you sure? Once you're in, that's it," Reynolds warned me.
I thought about what he said; no matter how mad we were at each other, I couldn't let Willis leave like this.
"I guess you're right." I stopped walking, and Petty Officer Reynolds waited. "I've, uh, I've got to go find him. Tell Kingston and the platoon I'll see them tomorrow for training."
"Yes, ma'am." Reynolds replied, and headed off toward base.
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By early evening, I'd walked through enough streets to cover the entire planet---or at least it seemed that way to me. For all the effort, I had nothing to show for it, and I was starting to get thirsty. So, when I passed by a pub catering to the military personnel stationed at Europa Base, I decided to take a break. I hadn't had a drop of alcohol since before my deployment to Heath, and an ice-cold beer sounded incredibly appealing.
I walked up to the bar, slightly nervous about being recognized but ordering a drink anyway. With so many Marines, ODSTs, and naval personnel stationed on Europa Base, what were the chances of my company members showing up?
The bartender placed a frosty mug of beer in front of me, and as I enjoyed the refreshing flavor for the first time in months, I looked around the place. Most of the bar was filled with Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, but a few Marines here and there made me feel a little less alone. Satisfied with the environment and the beer, I turned back to face the bar, where a screen was displaying updated news reports from other planets.
Particularly engrossed in a story on Marines winning back a base in Heath space and nursing my beer, I almost didn't notice the tap on my shoulder.
"What brings you here, Lieutenant Cooper?" I heard a voice ask behind me. I put my mug down, thought of a nice excuse for my absence at training, and turned to face the speaker.
Lieutenant Smythe's icy blue eyes and carnivorous grin mocked me.
"Smythe, you are easily the last person I'd like to see right now. Please be courteous and get the fuck out of my face, or I'll be forced to remodel yours," I said pleasantly.
"Excuse me? Remodel my face?" Smythe laughed. "I guess things didn't work out too well for you and Billy."
I glared at the other lieutenant. "His name isn't Billy, Smythe, and you know it."
"Did you tell him about your fuckfest with pretty boy Mike Reynolds?"
That was the breaking point for me; I was done putting up with Smythe's little shenanigans. I stood and punched him in the face, hard. The action felt so much better than it had the first time.
The lieutenant staggered, but the grin on his face did not disappear; if anything, Smythe looked even more amused.
"I knew I could get you to fight me," he sneered.
"You're going to wish you were a Covie prisoner when I'm done with you," I shot back.
I didn't know it then, but I'd come to regret those words.
At six-three and two hundred pounds of muscle, Jon Smythe was not someone to mess with. But once challenged, it was hard for me to back down. And so I had no choice but to give it my all and hope my hand-to-hand skills were up to the task.
His fist came at my face first, but my petite frame allowed me to duck in time. Smythe's hand ended up hitting the edge of the bar, and I heard a sickening crack as one of his knuckles broke. Highly aware of the fact that that crack could have been my face, I decided to take a more cautious approach.
As Lieutenant Smythe lifted his hand for a second try, I rammed my fist into his side. He let out an angry yelp and smacked his head against my skull.
I lost my footing and slumped between the barstools. My head was whirling and throbbing from the blow, and my vision was jumping around like crazy. Smythe was luckier, as he recovered enough balance and sight to grab me by my shirt and haul me back to my feet.
"I think my face is still normal, Cooper. And it looks like you're the one who's regretting this engagement," he said. His voice sounded muffled and far away.
"Bite me, Jonny boy," I managed to say.
Smythe's haughty expression suddenly morphed into fury. Still a little out of it, I was powerless to do anything when he released his grip on my shirt and grabbed my shoulder instead. Holding me up against the bar with one arm, he used his free hand to punch me in the stomach.
He let me drop to my knees, and as I struggled for air that wouldn't enter my lungs, he laughed.
"Don't sign up for the Big Leagues if you can't cut it, Cooper," he spat.
For the next frightening few seconds, I felt like a fish out of water. My mouth was open and actively seeking oxygen from the air around me, but it wasn't getting any. My vision had finally returned, but if this kept up I'd soon lose it again.
Finally, when I could actually feel myself turning blue, I managed to take in one ragged breath before Smythe tried to kick me in the face. I flattened myself on the ground, suddenly aware of the crowd around us, and avoided the lieutenant's boot by mere centimeters.
Just as I rolled onto my back to stand back up, however, the other lieutenant planted his boot firmly near my throat.
"Smythe, what the hell are you trying to do?" I croaked. Who would've thought my lungs would suffer more in this fight than my extremities?
"You're losing, Cooper." He looked me in the eyes for a moment, then said, "You're an ok fighter, but…well, it's time for the K.O."
Instead of receiving a knock out blow from Lieutenant Smythe, however, I watched as his neck was suddenly pulled back from behind.
"First thing you need to learn, Hotshot," Willis said into Smythe's ear, "is never hit a lady."
"Screw you," the lieutenant said, his voice hoarse from being in a chokehold.
Smythe then made unintelligible sounds as Willis tightened his grip on his neck.
"Maybe next time you'll think twice about fighting my wife? And perhaps learn to keep slanderous bullshit to yourself?"
"Kiss…my…ass," Smythe said, trying to elbow Willis in the stomach to let go.
"Be good, or you'll be dead," my husband warned.
Though smaller and younger, Willis was overpowering Smythe with the instinctive need to protect me. When the other officer had gone long enough without air, he stopped struggling. Not wanting to seriously hurt the lieutenant, Willis finally loosened his grip.
"All right," Smythe wheezed. "All right."
"Say it," Willis growled.
"I'm…I'm sorry, Cooper. Christ, am I sorry…" Smythe coughed, and Willis let the lieutenant go with a shove.
As Smythe staggered out of the bar holding a hand to his neck, Willis came quickly to my side. Unfortunately, I was still on the floor, having problems of my own with oxygen intake.
"Natalie?" Willis asked, clearly worried. "Focus on me, Coop. Can you see me?"
"Of course I can, you twit. I'm not blind," I rasped, slightly annoyed.
Willis just grinned. "Yup, you're ok." He knelt beside me, put a hand under my arm, and helped me stand.
"Thanks," I said when I could breathe again. "But I didn't need your help."
Willis snorted. "Yeah, I could see that. C'mon, let's get outta here."
"I'm still mad at you, you know."
"Why don't we talk about this later, huh? I've got a cab waiting for us outside."
I reluctantly followed Willis to the cab, but I didn't let him help me any further. My head was pounding, my lungs burned, my stomach felt bruised, but my pride was intact. I'd put up a decent fight in an unequal match, and I was walking out on my own two feet.