A/N: Note the absence of ridiculously long note! Yay! Just wanted to say I'm much happier with this chapter than the previous one and it's dedicated to the two – yes two! – wonderful people who reviewed. Thanks for making my week, this one's for Dark Hunter 643 and Hufwe Makto.
Chapter 2
Schofield pushed himself off the wall and forced a smile onto his face as he rounded the corner. His unit - his friends - looked at him with slight apprehension. They never quite knew who they were going to get these days with Schofield.
"Okay," he called as he walked towards them, tone considerably brighter. "Pair up," he instructed.
"Mother with Bigfoot, Astro with Skip and Rebound with Pancho – please don't kill each other." The last bit was directed mostly at Rebound and Sanchez. Schofield would normally have kept the two separate but he needed to match them all based vaguely on ability, it wouldn't do to have any serious injuries in training. Besides, they needed to learn to work together somehow and he figured beating each other up was as good a start as any.
"That leaves you with Book here," he said to Jack. He had put them together deliberately. Book II was a good martial artist, solid without being brilliant. He would be a good base from which Schofield could assess Jack's skills. He was also slightly interested in seeing if Jack would follow his orders. He did, without complaint.
Whilst the others practiced, Schofield, already a superb martial artist, moved amongst the pairs, making small corrections and encouragements. He found it comforting. The moves were co-ordinated, fluid but strong and graceful. Everything about martial arts exuded control and restrained power. Everything he felt lacking in his life right now.
He was showing Rebound how to place a kick so it just slipped under the ribs of the opponent and hit the vulnerable kidneys, causing excruciating pain, when he heard it.
Behind him there came a low groan which turned into a wail.
He straightened up and spun around to see Astro lying on the ground, rolling in pain with both hands clutching a delicate area. He looked up at the sky and uttered a quick curse under his breath.
"Skip!" He tried to sound stern but found he couldn't quite supress a small laugh, "effective, but if you could just save that particular move for the battlefield. We're focusing on technique right now."
"Just being unconventional, Sir," she retorted.
He rolled his eyes and helped Astro to his feet. "Now that's one reason not to mess around with women, far too dangerous," he said with a smile as he showed Astro how to block any similar attacks.
Eventually, having gone round every other pair twice, he could avoid Book and Jack no longer. He stood a short way off and watched them battle.
Book II's greatest ability was in his patience. They circled each other, Book refusing to engage. It never failed to frustrate his opponent, force him into attacking first and so, Jack swung a couple of crisp, sure punches aimed at Book's face but Book, prepared for the move, parried them easily.
"Nice," Schofield called, alerting them to his presence.
Book looked up briefly and Jack, spying his opportunity, took advantage of the momentary distraction and lunged again. This time, he dropped low and swept Book's legs out from underneath him with clinical precision, pinning him expertly.
"Very nice," Schofield conceded. Jack was obviously well trained and certainly capable.
"If you want a real challenge, you can take on Mother next," he said.
Jack stood up and, smiling, brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Well, thanks," he replied, "But they say you're the best around here."
Book II, watching the exchange, laughed and clapped his hands on Schofield's shoulder. "I think that was a challenge," he said, "What do you say Scarecrow?"
He started to shake his head just as Book called out to the others, "Oi, who wants to see Scarecrow fight…" he trailed off. "Hey, what's your callsign?" He asked Jack quickly.
"Jackal," he replied, "You know, like the little wolf, play on my name and all."
"Who wants to see Scarecrow fight Jackal?"
Schofield tried to protest again but it was Jack himself that stopped him this time. He threw a gentle punch at Schofield, who threw up an arm and blocked it easily. "Not chicken are you?" He teased good naturedly, eyebrows raised. Schofield was acutely aware of the warmth of Jack's arm pressed against his own.
"Never," He cocked his head and replied with a smile.
"After you," he said, indicating to the large circles spray painted onto the packed dirt.
Jack stood just off the centre of one circle and Shane followed him, standing opposite. The idea was to keep the fight inside the circle. They assumed fighting stances, raising their fists protectively in front of their chests.
The others had all stopped to watch.
The two men started to circle each other slowly, crossing one foot in front of the other and never taking their eyes off each other. Scarecrow waited, baiting Jack to make the first move, waiting to see if he'd fall for the same trick again.
Eventually, he was forced to. He threw a strong punch this time intended to catch Schofield near the temple but Schofield's lightning fast reflexes allowed him to catch it and he swung his own punch under Jack's forced arm, clipping him on the chin.
They separated.
Jack lunged again, throwing another hard hit. This one too went high and Schofield was able to duck it. From his position near the ground, on his haunches, Schofield sprang up and launched a punishing kick, but he over extended his leg slightly, so the blow landed square on Jack's ribs instead of the intended kidneys. It wouldn't hurt him anywhere near as much but it was certainly still a glancing blow and it left Jack winded.
Jack was caught momentarily off guard as he tried to regain his breath and Schofield swept his legs out and pinned him as easily as Jack himself had dispatched Book II before.
He could have taken a moment to revel in his triumph but instead, Shane rolled quickly off him and let Jack up.
"Well fought," he said as he extended a hand to help Jack up.
"Bullshit," he responded cheerfully as he grabbed Schofield's hand, "you kicked my ass."
Schofield winced inwardly a little at the expression and the inevitable jeers that would come with it. Sure enough, from behind him, a chorus of catcalls started up.
Jack looked bemused and Shane, blushing slightly, said "Just ignore them."
Turning round to face the others, he said "You lot don't shut up you'll be running laps til next week, comprehend?"
Jack just quirked an eyebrow and smiled an easy, slightly lopsided grin.
Shane gave him one last quick look before grabbing a towel off the pile and heading over to Mother. Either she didn't hear him approach, or she was purposely ignoring him. He coughed a little to get her attention. She straightened up and turned to face him. She was still pissed at him. He could see it in her eyes.
Not without reason, he thought.
He held the towel out to her, a peace offering.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I'll make you dinner to make up for it."
For a moment, her face remained impassive but then she took the towel from his outstretched arm and wiped the sweat from her brow. When her face appeared again, she was smiling at him. "Not sure my Ralphie will approve of me getting dinner with a ridiculously sexy young thing like you," she said.
Schofield's face fell a little. He and Ralph still hadn't really got over their little altercation. In fact, Schofield hadn't actually been over to Mother's place since, studiously avoiding any invitations.
"Oh stuff him," She said and then, seeing the look on his face, she added pointedly "He'll come round eventually; he's just stubborn is all. Much like someone else I know."
She balled the dirty towel up and threw it back at him. He caught it with effortless cool, a friendly sort of smirk lighting up his face. "Mine, ten minutes?" He said.
"It better be good buster," she responded with a smile as she broke into a jog to get home and freshen up.
When she arrived at the Barracks common room a short while later, she found they had the place to themselves. The others ate in the mess because they knew better to pass up a free meal seeing as the majority of them couldn't cook to save their lives. The state of the small kitchen when Schofield had moved in was testament to that. Somehow, he'd managed to clean it up to the point where it was usable, verging on civilised.
When Mother entered, for the first time ever, she smelt something delicious emanating from a pot on the stove, Schofield standing over it, stirring absentmindedly. He was no masterchef, but he'd been alone long enough to know how to look after himself.
"Hey," he said warmly when she arrived. "Won't be a minute, just got to set this to simmer."
She went over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of cans of soft drink. They had to work tomorrow so beer was off limits. The evening had settled beautifully warm, the sort of night that made one just want to be outside, so she grabbed the drinks and headed out to the porch out the back of the common room, seating herself on the ground, legs dangling over the edge, in the red glow of the setting sun.
Schofield joined her a moment later; he sat down beside her and rested his head against the cool bars of the cheap metal fence. She noticed that he'd changed out of uniform. Herself, she had just ducked into her place and grabbed a fresh T-shirt, leaving her camo pants on. Whereas Schofield had changed completely into an old pair of comfortable jeans and a loose grey T-shirt, the ever present sunglasses were just a casual pair of Oakleys. He looked more relaxed now. More Shane, less Scarecrow.
They just sat there for a while, Schofield quite content with silence but Mother, never so.
"What's for eating?" She asked after a minute.
Schofield dragged his eyes away from the sun setting over the skyline of Washington D.C. to look at her. "Spaghetti," he said, leaning back on his arms.
"I am really sorry about what I said before," he added, "I was just pissed off and outta line."
She looked at him.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
He shook his head.
"Not really, no."
But Mother could rarely help herself. "Is it about Jack?" She asked.
Shane tried to suppress the small smile that spread across his face at the mention of his name but instead settled for hopefully disguising it as amused exasperation. "Mother…" he said warningly.
"No, come on, listen to me," she said over quickly the top of him, "I know he's nicking your job and all but it's not his fault and he really didn't seem like that bad a guy, I'm sure if you just get to know him you'll really like him."
"Mother…" he said again, "Not helping."
"Besides," he began to speak but then abruptly stopped and sniffed the air before jumping up. "Oh shit," he said as he ran back into the kitchen. The smell of burning spaghetti lingered strongly on the air.
Schofield emerged a few minutes later looking sheepish, hands behind his head.
"Anyone for pizza?" He asked.
Mother just laughed.