[ Hopefully I don't burn myself out with all this too soon but I had an idea too good to just keep in my head all to myself! I'm not sure if the timeline is accurate for Hoffman to be Sam's instructor but I decided to fudge it.

Shout outs: BlackFl0wer. She has her own wonderful Sam/Baird story I suggest reading if anyone hasn't.

JadziaCee. Thanks for the help as always! I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Olivia, SpartanGoddess and Jedi thanks as well. It wouldn't be nearly as fun to write this if no one read it. ]

The sky was a cool blue above her and the sun in it so bright it flared around the edges in her vision, appearing like a bright burning snowflake. It was quiet for a moment in time and she remembered laying outside with her mother as a child, who would stroke her forehead and hair as she peacefully drifted in and out of sleep. This was not then, her mother was far far away and their was nothing peaceful to be found in this situation. When the breath returned to her windless gasping lungs the pain of her ankle became all the more glaring as well. Sam screamed and grabbed at it having to sit up to do so, her back now caked with sand and dirt from where she'd fallen. No, where she'd been pushed. The final week of boot camp was coming to an end, it was Hell Week and the last obstacle cross the cadets would have to complete before coming official COGs. Samantha was five or six feet off the ground on the vertical wall of chain ropes when her fellow cadet Ben McMillen came scaling it at break neck speed beside her. He was the biggest piece of shit she'd ever had the priveledge of being forced to interact with and he made it known just how he felt about her too. He deplored the idea of female Gears and made sure she was always within ear shot when he voiced his opinions. Sam was less passive aggressive and simply told him to his face that she hoped his rifle jammed in battle. At that moment she tried to ignore him though, the task at hand far more important that some trust fund asshole. She had the wall to finish, hanging bars to cross, a low bar to hurdle and then finally a rope to the final platform and three minutes left. It was in the bag.

"What, did they give you a head start?" Ben lashed out, moving past her.

The chains were four feet apart up and down and side to side, not an easy task to just simply climb up so taking a little bit of time was advisable of all things. But Sam was still young and foolish, prideful and with something to prove so she easily regained her spot in first. Four or so feet left. She couldn't resist replying either.

"Please Ben, the only way you'll finish this track before me is if I break a leg."

Reaching for the next chain rung, she was extended onto the toes of a single boot, her other lifted and right hand holding onto a vertical chain for support. Ben smirked, held on tight and kicked the chain out from under only supportive foot. After that all she remembered was the fall, and catching her ankle on another rung on the way down which was where she'd received the injury, however bad it was. Her eyes burned, starting to water and Sam screamed again now holding her ankle out of both pain and frustration. In her blurry peripherals she could see some of the medical staff approaching along with her superior officer. A couple of other cadets who had been trailing her caught up and passed, ahead on the hanging bars she could see McMillen. A balled fist hit the sand she sat on and she didn't cry, but she wanted to. She wanted her mom.

"Are you okay?" The lankiest medic asked as he was the first to approach, all hop to and excited about his job. Why wouldn't he be? Samantha was a pretty girl, but she wasn't in the mood to be admired.

"Step back Private," Hoffman ordered as he came to the edge of the course. "She's finishing this. Get up."

Her wet eyes looked to him like he was an alien. The gaze he returned didn't take away from such an argument either, his eyes were black and colorless beneath the shade of the military cap and his face gave way to no human emotion. "Finish this track on time or you fucking leave! Does that insentivise you at all Byrne?"

Hell yes it did. She nodded and tried to throw herself back on her feet. Her ankle didn't hold and she was back on her ass, crying out again. "FUCK! I can't! Oh God, it fucking hurts…"

"It's not a fucking option! If you can't survive a god damn sprained ankle Byrne then walk now!" Hoffman yelled, standing over the young Gear. "You want a god damn bandage? Make one!"

He knew how bad she wanted this. Fuck, this was the only thing she wanted and it seemed the whole time she tried to just survive boot camp he was there to undercut her, just like everyone else. Samantha could have sworn she never hated someone so much as she stared back at him that moment, wanting to spit and scream. Her answer to this situation was none of those, but a unique one instead. "I WILL!"

Fuck modesty and what the others would think Sam told herself as she peeled the short sleeved navy green t-shirt off over her head, still covered by a sports bra beneath. That was the easy part. Her ankle was still throbbing and every bump and jostle as she removed her boot and its laces made her bite down on her tongue just to feel a better sort of pain. She ripped the shirt into shreds as evenly as possible and used the longest piece to wrap her foot and joint that had started to swell cartoonishly. After tying the cloth as he could bare, her shoelace was applied as secondary precaution to keep her wrap in place. The process took more time than she expected with her sandy fingers. This was it, hands and her good foot placed thoughtfully Sam threw her weight forward and was able to get to her feet though she held onto the chains of the wall she would again have to climb. It seemed taller this time.

"Don't just stare at it! Climb it you cripple!" Encouraged her superior.

Why her? Sam asked, tired arms pulling her up the first row so she could get her boot up, other leg almost useless except for the when she could get her knee on a rung. Before what had been a test of her lower body strength and dexterity was now mostly on her shoulders and arms that had already been put to their limits . She still wanted to cry, it hurt so bad. She hooked the hanging horizontal chains under her armpits, elbows folded so she could push herself up once more. This process was repeated several times until she was just another yard or two to the top. All she could do now was hold on. No, this couldn't end yet. Fuck it, she started to cry. Silently of course but big fat tears came streaming down her cheeks, leaving clear paths through the grime where they fell. There was a voice in her head she wasn't even sure was hers but it was yelling, Time is running out! Go before Hoffmann discharges you for failing.. Going down was even harder than climbing up, Hoffman wouldn't care if she complained though. Sam lowered herself down the other side halfway and then dropped to the ground, landing on her side. It would save a few seconds she told herself as she started to crawl towards the hanging bars. The sun was beating down from dead above on her exposed and tattooed skin. Stomach, arms and back were all caked in sweat and sand now as she pulled herself through it, Just a little further. She could taste the dirt in her mouth and spit, but absolutely nothing came out.

"A minute forty-five! MOVE!"

"UGHA!" It wasn't a word, just a sound that came erupting out as she took a short leap onto the first hanging bar, shoulders burning again under her weight. A similar sound came out each time she swung forward and prayed her sweaty palms wouldn't slip. With perfected timing and the momentum she gathered Samantha made quick work of the obstacle and came to confront the next. The hanging bar's end platform lead down a gradually sloping hill to the hurdle below. The slope wasn't enough to get a good start, not like she could have if she wanted. Her chest was heaving and she leaned against a wooden post, her right ankle still lifted protectively from the ground. Just fuckin do it! You're almost done, just go! The voice inside her head, her best friend and worst enemy kept yelling and so she did.

Left foot planted solid, everything good so far she went to her right confident it could hold for one or two steps. Oh how pride made a fool of all however and it gave in. She hit her knee hard on a rock and hissed. GET UP!

I'm trying! Please…

I don't give a fuck Byrne! Get up or I'll break your other ankle when we're done!

It hurts so bad! I want my mom!

"BYRNE!"

Fuck, Hoffman was still there ever at her side, ever yelling. Sam looked up, her tears dry and gone. She just had disappointment to feel now, she was going to fail.

"The COG invests thousands of dollars to train our cadets and I will be fucked by Prescott before I let you waste that God damn money! NOW GET UP AND EARN YOUR LAST NAME, CADET!" He screamed it in her face and she didn't even flinch when some spit caught her on the cheek. For the past eight weeks he'd been yelling at her, today she thought she could stop caring and then he had to go and say something like that.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked. "My name?"

"Byrne! Do you think your father sat down and gave up three yards from the fucking finish?" Challenged her Drill Sergeant, his voice bubbling with disgust.

Her stomach turned to ice water and she growled, pushing herself to her knees. "Don't talk about my Dad…"

"Don't disgrace his name then and GET UP!"

Fuck Hoffman, fuck McMillen, fuck the voice in her head. All she had was a name, that was all she ever had. Good leg first, now your other. SHIT! The hurdle had to be four and a half feet tall itself and she still wasn't sure how she would do it, but she would. This time she took her first step on her bad ankle, she cried but it held and she pushed off, onto her good foot that held so she could jump forward. Again, like the other obstacles she cleared it by landing on her side. This was not the way she had pictured her final PT exam to go. From chest, to hands and then elbows and knees she would finish. Just the final rope now. Ten feet maybe.

"Sam Byrne move your ass!"

She grabbed it and pulled up. Her thighs squeezed the length that fell between them, the coarse fibers cutting her everywhere they could but the pain had been going on for so long now her nerves began to quiet and dull. Her muscles that screamed went cold and she could finish the course, pulling herself to the last tower where those who had already finished stood, puked and congratulated one another. What must they have thought of her now? The girl who had to crawl the last eighth of the track, what a joke. Fuck them. She pushed herself into a corner, eyes beginning to close.

Someone offered her a hand. Hoffman. When she didn't receive it he didn't recall the offer. He just took away her option. "Take my hand Private Byrne, congratulations."

Private Samantha Byrne, for seventeen years she'd dreamed of hearing those words and just like that now she had. They would be embroidered on uniforms and engraved on her COG tags. She took his hand, back now on the one good foot. Hoffman, though still shaded under the brim of his hat was smiling. Now she really wanted to cry.

"You…you knew my dad?" Sam asked, wiping at her eyes. Hoffman seemed like a different man now, helping keep her on balance with a hand between her shoulders.

"I did Sam. You would have made him proud." He said. "You made me proud."