A/N: A big thank you to everyone for reading the first chapter and for the great feedback! I've been planning this fic for a while and was trying to finish a few things off so I could get it up in time for FMS awareness day. I was diagnosed with the condition 12 years ago and both my dad and my ex-girlfriend have it too, though we all have different experiences of it, so hopefully I can use what I know to do this story justice. Thanks for Reading :)

"Ok, so you don't want to sign up and be tied in to a contract for like a year, so how about we get you on our monthly plan? It's a little bit more expensive, but we can wave the joining fee and get you a discount for our rude staff." Emily Fitch grins at me as she walks back in to her office carrying a bunch of papers and leaflets that she drops on to her desk. I'm sitting in one of the comfy chairs on the other side of her desk and shoot her a smile as she takes her seat.

"Sounds good. So what will the damage be?" Ever the pessimist I ask about the price straight away. I still think it's going to be too expensive for me. I might be a journalist now and earning a wage, but the paper I work for is only small and I'm just starting out. My salary doesn't exactly stretch to luxury gyms. Emily is pretty skilled at this sales thing though and she sidesteps the question altogether.

"The monthly plan gives you unlimited access to the gym and use of all the facilities, including the pool. We can do an induction and a fitness assessment and I'll build you a training program from there."
"Great…how much?" She laughs at my persistence and I'm still waiting for her to answer me. I think a personal fitness plan is going to cost me a small fortune; but I suppose it will be worth it if it helps with the fibro. The last thing I want to do is hurt myself by overdoing it at the gym. Professional help is definitely my best option.

"Like I said, I want to help. I won't charge you for my time, so it'll just be the gym membership. So that's thirty five pounds a month." Wow. That's not that totally unreasonable and if it's month by month I can quit when I want without worrying about paying for the rest of the year. The fact that Emily is being thrown in to the bargain just sweetens the deal.
"Ok Fitch, sign me up." What the hell, at the very least I can spend the next month perving over my new personal trainer.
"You won't regret it, Campbell." She perches on the edge of her desk as she puts a contract in front of me to go over it and leans in close as she points out the particulars. I struggle to listen to her though, between the throbbing in my knee and having her sitting so close I just can't concentrate.

"Are you ok?" She asks with her brow knitted in concern as she looks down at me.
"Fine." I rub at my knee self-consciously. If I told somebody about it every time something was hurting I'd never shut up. Emily sees right through me though and puts the papers I'm supposed to be reading over aside.
"Hop up on the bed."
"Excuse me?" I choke, certain I've heard her wrong, but she nods towards the physiotherapy bed in the corner of the room. "Ok, but you should know I usually insist on dinner first." I crack a joke, trying to cover my initial reaction.
"I've got a protein bar in my drawer?" She shoots back without missing a beat, and I'm pretty sure this girl has never had to tell someone to get on to a bed twice in her life.

Since I don't make any attempt to move she drops down in front of me and slips off my left trainer before resting my foot on her knees and pushing up the leg of my jogging pants. It's stupid, but my first thought as she does this is that I'm so glad I shaved my legs this morning. Her hands find my sore knee and her skilful fingers start massaging my aching muscles. "Fuck…" I mutter under my breath as she kneads the tension away. God that feels good.
"Better?" She looks up at me with those big brown eyes and this smug little smile. I can't quite seem to form the words to answer her, so I just nod and bite at my lip instead. "I guess not all physiotherapists are that bad, huh?" She teases lightly as she carries on with her work.
"You're better than the last one." I agree. My last encounter with a physio was a middle aged woman with ice cold hands and a frosty demeanour to match. I started seeing her when the pain in my knees got worse and my doctor recommended me for physical therapy. She gave me exercises to do at home and I saw her maybe once a month, but when the pain started spreading everywhere else she pretty much told me there was nothing she could do for me; so my opinion of physical therapists isn't exactly high. Emily is doing a pretty good job of changing that though.

Once she's finished massaging my knee we get the paperwork out of the way and I find myself signed up for my first month at Fitch Fitness. "So how long have you been diagnosed with FMS?" Emily sits at her desk, typing away on her laptop as she asks me questions about my medical history.
"About eight years." I was fourteen when I was diagnosed with something that back then was mostly associated with women over the age of forty and was pretty much classed as wear and tear of the body. It felt like a cop out. Like my doctor had no clue what was wrong so he just picked the fibromyalgia label. I guess I still feel like that sometimes. Any time I go to see a doctor they just put everything down to the fibro. Migraine? That'll be the fibromyalgia. Insomnia? That's fibromyalgia too. Fatigue? Yup, you guessed it. As soon as you're labelled with FMS it's like doctors don't even bother anymore. You could turn up to see them with your leg hanging off and they'd say it was a symptom of the fibro.

"What made you want to be a physiotherapist then?" I ask, trying to find out a little more about her. The question I really want to ask is whether she's single; and also gay. That would really help. She looks like she could be, but it's not like there's some kind of badge we can all wear to tell.
"My sister and I got our personal training accreditation when we were still in college, having a dad who owned a gym it just kind of seemed the obvious career choice. I didn't want to get stuck working here when I was eighteen, so I decided to go to uni and get a degree. You know, charge my clients more for hiring me." She makes a joke about it, but I'm guessing that a personal trainer who is a licensed physiotherapist can charge the earth; which makes me wonder why she's offering to help me for free.

"To be honest, I don't really get a chance to help people here. I mostly just do personal training and when I do get to use my degree it's just minor soft tissue injuries and short term stuff. Just for once I'd like a challenge."
"Well Emily Fitch, consider me your challenge."

Once Emily's finished taking my details she gets me one of those watch fob things for signing in to the gym and we make an appointment to meet for my induction tomorrow morning. When I pass the reception on the way out the blonde bitch gives me a sickly sweet smile. I'm a paying customer now so she has to be nice to me and she knows it.

I leave the gym and head straight home to the flat I share with my best friend, Effy. I tried texting her to see if she wanted anything brought in for dinner, but she didn't get back to me. I figure out why when I walk through the door and find her walking around the flat in nothing more than her underwear and a baggy t-shirt. Her sort-of-boyfriend walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. I say sort of because the guy is married or something, so I'm not sure he can actually be her boyfriend when he already has a wife. "Hey Freds, wife working late again tonight?"
"Fuck off Naomi." He snaps, being his usual perky self. You'd think a guy who's shagging two women would crack a smile once in a while. Effy rolls her eyes at me but doesn't get in the middle of us. She knows how I feel about Freddie. He's a cheating prick and I think Effy can do better; the problem is she usually does worse. Freddie McClair is actually a step up from the usual pricks that Effy attracts.

"He's not married, he's engaged." Effy points out once Freddie has dressed and gone home. She's so nonchalant about being the second woman. I don't know how she can stand it.
"My mistake." It's my turn to roll my eyes at her and she just gives me that smirk of hers back; the one that says fuck the world. "Guess what I did today?" I change the subject, not wanting to argue over her and Freddie's arrangement once again. She knows how I feel about that already.
"Solved world hunger? Created global peace?" She teases and our banter is back to normal. Eff and I have been best friends since college and we've been living together since I got back from university at the start of last summer.

"No that's on tomorrow's agenda. I finally joined a gym."
"A gym? So you're serious about this getting fit stuff?" She looks dubious and she has every right to be. I'm hardly the poster child for a fit and healthy lifestyle. Up until a few weeks ago I was smoking forty cigarettes a day and washing down takeaways with glasses of wine. So I'm still doing that, but I at least quit the fags. I've been talking about getting fit for ages and I'm not surprised she doesn't think I'll stick to it.
"I am!" I hold my head up high. "I've even got myself a personal trainer."
"Really? When did you get a fucking pay rise?"
"She's actually given me a pretty good deal."
"She huh?" Effy catches the grin I'm wearing and she calls me out on it. "What's she like?"
"She's fucking gorgeous! But I don't know if she's gay, or even single, or interested…"
"Good luck with that Campbell." She laughs at me, knowing my luck with girls. I've been single for ages. I'm not much of a people person and I can get quite stroppy when I'm sore and tired; which is most of the time really. So trying to keep a girlfriend can be a bit of a nightmare when you're twenty-two and you've got the energy of a sixty-two years old.

I struggle to keep up with most girls my age, god knows how I'd cope if I really could get with Emily. The girl is ridiculously fit. She probably goes mountain climbing or skydiving or something on her days off. Keeping up with her would probably kill me; though at least I'd die with a smile on my face. God, I really need to find out if she's gay. I'm meeting her at ten tomorrow for my induction, so maybe I can do a little digging; I am supposed to be an investigative journalist after all.

The next morning can't come quick enough and I raid my wardrobe for some decent leggings and a vest top. I plan on looking a little more presentable today and once I'm changed in to my gym gear I put my hair in a braid. I've grown it out recently and gone for a platinum shade of blonde. I think I suit it, and I'm pretty happy with my reflection in the full length mirror hanging in the hall. Making sure I've got my little watch fob on for getting in to the gym I head out the door to go meet Emily.

The same receptionist as yesterday is sitting behind the desk and she gives me that smile that is really a sneer as I scan my fob through the turnstile to get past her. That's as far as I get before I realise I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go. Should I just head for the main equipment room and wait for Emily there? Or should I go knock on her office door? I'm about fifteen minutes early. What if she's with another client? Or she hasn't come in yet? I'm busy having my little internal crisis for all of thirty seconds before Emily comes through the turnstile behind me carrying a Starbucks cup and smiling. She's wearing what looks to be her uniform, navy tracksuit pants and a matching polo shirt with Fitch Fitness stitched over her left breast. Note to self, do not get caught looking at her chest. "Hey Naomi, you're a bit early. Why don't you grab a coffee while I drop my stuff in my office?"

"Actually I gave up caffeine last week."
"Impressive." She smiles and it's ridiculous but I get these little butterflies fluttering in my stomach as she touches my arm. "I don't think I could make it through the morning without my chai latte."
"Chai latte? That's not very healthy." I tease, enjoying the way her cheeks colour a little as she bites her lip.
"Sometimes a little of what's bad for you is good for you."
"I couldn't agree more."

I head to the vending machine and get myself a nice healthy bottle of water, hoping to score some brownie points with Emily. "Good choice, good choice!" A scouser wearing a similar uniform to Emily's, only with a white polo shirt with 'Rob' stitched across his right breast pats me on the back as he spots my water. "That right there is a quarter of your daily water needs!" It's like 10am and the man is grinning at me like he's still wired after a night out. My god some of these gym people really are nuts.
"Hey, Dad." Emily joins us by the vending machine and greets the dark haired scouser with a hug. "I see you've met our newest recruit. Naomi, this is my dad, Rob Fitch."
"Nice to meet you luv!" He shakes my hand rather vigorously and I still think he's on something. "You've made the right choice in Fitch Fitness! And you're in safe hands with my Emily here." He beams like the proud father he is and I'm really glad he has no idea just how much I've been thinking about his daughter.
"Ready Naomi?" Emily's hand finds my arm again and I force out a nod and try not to blush as I think about other places her hands could be. I wonder if I could get another massage today?