AN: I'm very happy right now, so I'm giving you an extra long chapter.

I apologize because I have a lot of stuff... well, wrong in this chapter. Heller would be fired fast if he did what he did in this chapter.

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Being forced to sleep outside, bedded in nothing but a single, rough Army blanket and sand didn't seem to bother either of the recruits. Getting shot at with paintball guns all night, under order of Heller, seemed to infuriate Hawthorne to the extent of getting up in the middle of the night with a growl and stomp off.

Amazingly, the next morning, someone discovered that the men shooting the guns were unconscious, tied and gagged. The guns were tampered with so as not to ever fire a paintball again, and Heller immediately turned to Hawthorne and Peck.

"Which one of you did it?" He screamed into Peck's face.

"I did it," Hawthorne said, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "I don't take kindly to anything firing at me. Especially when I'm sleeping."

"Oh, really? And aren't you missing something?" Heller asked, specifically thinking of the rule that they call him 'sir'.

She sneered. "Naw."

He grabbed the front of her shirt and then landed a punch in her stomach. She gasped for breath, then started laughing.

"What's so funny, Hawthorne?" He asked, punching her again in the stomach.

"Oh," she said, laughing. "The image in my head of what great parents you must have. I mean, they taught you to hit girls!"

He attempted at landing a punch again, but she blocked it and sent one of her own to his jaw. He, in turn, grabbed one of her arms and twisted it behind her back, making her freeze in place, else her arm would break.

"I am the law here," he growled in her ear. "I'm the only one you obey. I am your master! You're nothing but a filthy dog that I must whip into shape. Got that?"

She didn't respond, but only smirked.

"GOT THAT?!" Heller yelled in her ear, pushing harder on her arm.

"All I got is that you're a control freak who beats up girls and quotes old westerns," Hawthorne said, her smirk growing bigger.

"Are you forgetting something again?"

"Naw."

With a crack, Heller broke Hawthorne's arm and shoved her into the dirt.

"If you ever try to fight me again," Heller breathed, "then I will break your other arm. And if you 'forget' to call me 'sir,' again, then I will make you climb across the jungle gym. Come."

Peck stared curiously at Hawthorne, who cradled her broken arm, but smirked at him.

Don't forget to say 'sir', she mouthed, and for the first time since enlisting, Peck smiled.

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Peck ran forward, allowing his anger to boil but keeping it suppressed enough that it wouldn't show.

He was exhausted, but he wouldn't show it if he could help it. It was nearly midnight, and he hadn't had a bite to eat all day. All he had to drink was a dixie cup full of water at noon, when the sun was at it's height.

Adrenaline, something he had trained himself to use when needed, was the only thing fueling him. He would've collapsed way earlier if it hadn't been there for him.

He had no idea how Hawthorne could manage doing this. She had impressed him, something that rarely happened. She had made it through the obstacle courses that most SEALs would have trouble doing, and the whole time she had a busted arm and was smirking like nobody's business. Peck just wanted to stay out of Heller's way, but she seemed to want to press his buttons and see how far she could push him.

Oh, well. It wasn't his problem, at least Heller's attention wasn't completely set on him.

Peck carefully swung his way across the monkey bars, then climbed up a set of floors until he was about forty feet in the air. He grabbed a rope that was extended over a pole, then grabbed it and crossed his ankles over it, carefully started inching down the rope, his speed slowly increasing. He wondered how Hawthorne would get through that one.

As soon as he got down from the rope onto another wooden platform, the moonlight revealed a lone figure appearing at the top of the rope. He watched as she took off her belt, then cinched it around her ankle. She lifted that leg over the rope and grabbed her belt with her good hand, then zipp-lined down the rope.

"Peck! Did I say you could stop moving?"

Peck growled and started forward again at a fast pace, hoping he wouldn't catch anything from his CO.

"Well? Did I?" Heller's voice rang out as he approached Peck.

"No, Sir," Peck growled out again just as Hawthorne landed on the platform. She continued to jog forward.

Heller stopped her. "You are supposed to climb down the rope, not zip line down it."

She gave him a smirk. "Well, with a broken arm, I didn't want to risk falling and squashing your sorry hopes of breaking me. And I don't recall any rules abo-"

Her shirt front was grabbed and Heller placed a punch in her stomach. She was prepared for it, though, and had already tensed her muscles to steel against the blow. Another smirk made Heller furious that he wasn't getting through to her, and he punched her again. She laughed, but Heller wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

"Both of you, hit the deck. I want fifty," Heller yelled at them, and both ducked to the ground and started their push-ups.