Author's Note: Special thanks to Cat414 for giving the first review! People, please review. How else am I going to know if you like it or not? I can't read minds. Thanks for reading this, though.

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Peck groaned as he lowered himself to the ground from the wooden stand, slowly beginning to jog towards Heller. The punishments for answers he didn't know were pretty awful.

"Where is she?" Heller asked, his tone sharp and dangerous.

"I told you, I don't know. We haven't ev-"

Peck's words were cut off by his arm being twisted behind his back. He let out another groan, this one more from the pain than from the exhaustion. He really didn't want a broken arm.

"I asked you a question, and I want the right answer," Heller growled in his ear.

"I... I don't know," Peck said, trying to keep himself under control.

"Oh, yeah? I bet you do," Heller said, pushing Peck's arm up further into his back. "Where. Is. She?"

"Right over here."

Heller turned to see Hawthorne standing there, a smirk on her face. Her arm was wrapped in a cast, and her stiff posture told she had had her ribs wrapped.

"Where did you go?" Heller barked, releasing Peck and stalking menacingly towards her.

Her smirk stayed in place, even as Heller towered over her, his gaze fearfully angry.

"The med tent. A Lieutenant took me there."

"Oh, yeah? And which Lieutenant is this?" Heller growled.

She gave him a maniacal grin. "Smith."

Heller's eyes tightened with more anger, but a glimmer of fear shone in his eyes. Hawthorne noticed, and she smiled.

Heller, infuriated by the lack of fear in Hawthorne, shoved her onto the ground. He then proceeded to kick her ribs, causing her to curl up into herself.

He finally stopped and stomped away with an order for Peck to be at the Mess in half an hour, and an order that Hawthorne stay on the obstacle course.

Peck stared curiously at Hawthorne, with a tinge of worry in his expression. As soon as Heller left, he walked over to Hawthorne and knelt down next to her.

"You ok?" He asked, realizing that this was the first time that he'd ever spoken to her.

"Yep... fine and dandy," she said, gasping a little as Peck helped her up.

"You don't look it," Peck said as he pointed out the blood on her form.

She looked down at her bloodstained clothes, realizing that her nose must've busted when Heller was kicking her. She gingerly touched it.

"My nose is broken. Can you set it?" She asked.

He shrugged, then reached out and gave a sharp tug in her nose. Hawthorne let out a muffled yelp, then relaxed. "Thanks."

Peck nodded. "So... you got any family?"

"No. I was raised in foster care all the way until I enlisted," Hawthorne said. "You?"

Peck laughed a little, rubbing his hand along the base of his neck. "That's wierd, 'cause that's the same way I grew up."

Hawthorne gave a pained smile to Peck. "Alright, then. I'm off to the course. See you in a while?"

Peck smiled. "See you in a little while."

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Hannibal carefully walked into the tent towards Hawthorne's bunk, stopping as he stood in front of it. He took the key out of his pocket and unlocked her trunk, pulling a hairbrush out with a smile. He plucked a couple of hairs from it, then set it back in place and locked the trunk.