It will eventually be a Spike/OC story (if I get that far) and since I don't know where this is going I rated it M from the start.
Constructive criticism is very welcome and I hope you will enjoy!
Warnings: For now, just my rusty English skills. Oh, and I've never been to Canada, and know nothing of real police work and such stuff. Some violence, not too grim I think.
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from Flashpoint is NOT mine.
AN: I know that it has been a while, school, internship and writers block will do that to you. So these two chapters, (4-5) is just for those of you who are following this story. I am so grateful! I am not really sure how to continue after this chapter so it might be awhile before I can get chapter 6 up here for you, but I am working on it. Promise.
So, please enjoy.
Firefly – Chapter five
Who ever thought summer training camp was a good idea should be hanged, twice.
The heat is scorching, pavement almost melting under our feet; the sun beating down on us like it's trying to set us on fire as we stumble over the finish line for the third time in a row. I stand there resting my hands against my knees to keep myself standing while most of the class collapses on the grass around me. My skin feels too tight, like my overheated blood have nowhere to go and my brain is throbbing in sync with my pounding heart. My frantic gasping for air does nothing to still the swimming of my vision and the whole damned world seems hell-bent on tripping.
A few meters away someone is having an encore of our lunch, another is curled up in fetus position, crying, and a third lies flat on the hot asphalt, unmoving even as the paramedics hurry over. We're having a real field trip here you see.
I'm breathing through my nose, forcing myself to stand straight with my arms over my head as our instructor strolls over. The Sergeant is an old military man who, after retiring from the army, has sworn the remaining of his life to work all his trainees to an early death. He is also very old-school in his methods. Like "women-should-be-standing-pregnant-in-the-kitchen-waiting-for-her-man-to-come-home" old-school. We were best friends.
He loved trying to break me, and I loved throwing it back in his face.
A perfectly healthy and functioning relationship.
And now standing in front of us Sergeant Morgan seemed very disappointed to find three of his beloved students still standing after his "light after-lunch jog" exercise. Hotshot navy woman Malinda Shugart with her aim for E.T.F, shy firefighter Cody Burman looking for a change and completely innocent police officer, yours truly. We were the class black sheep. Young, tough, uncontrolled and all with our own kind of love for the dark midnight streets. When we weren't trying to kill each other, we were a perfect team. And right now we were the only thing standing between the Sergeant and his long awaited weekend with his wife and grandkids. This was not appreciated.
"You three again, what do I have to do to get some peace around here?" Morgan eyed us through his well-polished glasses; he'd be damned before letting us become a dent in his spotless "no-students-standing-when-the-day-is-over" record that the class had mutually decided he was keeping after our first week. I think the sneaky bastard was secretly proud of his badass students and one of these days he would allow us to go home in one piece. One of these days. "Terrano! Shugart! Burman! Three more laps! The rest of you children hit the showers and go home! C'mon. Hustle!"
We are silently muttering curses as we stumble back out on the tracks. Malinda snorts, red ponytail bouncing around her head as she picks up speed. Her voice dry and raspy as she stage whispers over her shoulder. "I swear, one of these days I'm gonna "hit the showers" without permission just for the hell of it." Cody and I huff in agreement as we catch up, keeping an even pace throughout the first lap. "Aren't you military kids supposed to be respectful and all that shit? Yes Sir, yes Sir!" I can't help it, riling Malinda is my new hobby. She puts up a good fight and is easy to annoy, very, very easy. I don't think she likes me. Especially not in a +30 Celsius weather. "Shut it, street rat!" I grin, the exhaustion and heat forgotten in a second. "C'mon then."
We were at each other's throats as Cody jumped, speeding up to get out of the fray. "Freaking crazy ladies!"
"C'mon Cody!" I beam around a mouthful of fresh blood, pulse pounding in my ears. "Live a little."
"Six more laps children! Move it!"
Well shit.
"Could you two try to not try kill each other in front of the Sergeant at least once!?" Cody swore the whole way to the locker rooms, hitting us with his duffel bag whenever he wanted to particularly enforce a profanity. "You'll get me suspended cause you two morons can't resist a fight!"
"We're sorry Cody." Malinda finally spoke, giving me a pointed glare and I did my best to look regretful before once again bursting out in laughter, holding my freshly bruised ribs. "I'm not. Got you good soldier girl!" She sneered at me, badly bruised nose almost glowing in her pale face. "One of these days, street rat!" My grin was nearly manic as I turned to her, adrenalin bubbling to the surface. "C'mon Mal, it's all in good fun."
"Don't call me that!"
Just one more.
"Or what? You gonna pull a rank on me?" She tried that a couple of times during our first week. My street-fighter-police-working-class presence was almost a personal insult against her high-class-military-upbringing. But on the streets the only tags that will get you anywhere are the ones carved into your skin, proof that you've done your time in bars and on dark back streets. So even though she had three years on me, was both hotheaded and strong, had served for her country and all that, in my eyes she was still a spoiled brat. And she thought me a half-witted criminal with no place in a uniform so…
We fall in a tangle of limbs through the door to the ladies locker room, cursing and spitting, fists and feet falling fast and heavy as we try to knock each other as hard as possible with as little damage as possible. It's more of a children's fight than a full out brawl but it is good enough.
Close enough.
As we roll of each other, panting and spitting blood on the worn tiled floor, I hear Cody walk by outside the door yelling that "we better hurry the hell up or he'll go drinking himself stupid without our sorry asses".
"Yes Sir!"
The look on Malinda's face at my wheezed snicker made the fist to my face completely worth it.
"An' then thes morons tried te kill each othee agi'n an' we all ad to run nin' extra laps. Nine!" The old man behind the bar simply nodded, pouring another round of shots of the lime green poison Cody had chosen for us tonight.
If you are going to have a drinking contest, everyone have to drink the same amount of the same thing. Right? And Cody had a terrible love for strange-colored shots, so here we were. Malinda was currently slurring very un-lady like curses about immature trainees into the tattered wood of the bar, my name especially were repeated more than once. Cody had spent the past half hour spilling his heart to the poor bartender in an uncharacteristically loud voice; he had been paired with the two crazy ladies with no self-control after all. And me, well, I was, for lack of better words, laughing my head off.
Training, bickering and drinking until you drop. All in all, a good day.
The only thing better would be a good blood-fight.
"An' the dis maniac won't git drunk!" I swatted at Cody's accusing finger, still giggling as I downed another shot. "Not my fault you're a lightweight." I wasn't unaffected though, a pleasant numbness rapidly spreading out from my stomach to my fingertips, soothing better than any run of the mill painkillers ever could.
Still in a good shape though, considering.
"I take it you'll get these two home? Last call." The bartender, Pete according to his nametag, nodded towards my companions. "Don't think they should have more anyway." There's a weak protest from Malinda, now half asleep, while Cody chose the moment to burst out singing along with the television in the corner of the room. Deafeningly loud at that. "Yeah, I suppose I should." I grin at Pete, hefting Malinda from her chair. "They'll feel this on the training course tomorrow. Cody, c'mon!"
"Pnk elepants?"
"I'll buy you pink pants, let's move."
"YAY! FLUFF!"
Well shit!