An: Chapter 9. A bit short, but I hope it will do. To everyone that reads, favorite/follow and reviews, thank you so much! I wouldn't have confidence enough to write without you and it means a lot to me.

Firefly – chapter nine

A Thursday morning one week later I sit on a bench in the locker-room trying to tie my shoes back on. Even after the blistering shower my hands are shaking from the cold and it's a struggle to keep my eyes open. I curse out under my breath, giving up on the shoelaces and allowing my head to fall forward into my waiting hands, elbows resting on jeans clad knees.

"How are you holding up?" I throw a glance over my shoulder just in time to see Jules walk out from the showers, towel wrapped tight around her and a tired look on her face. "Nightshifts can be rough." I grin, stretching my arms over my head, relishing in the pops of my spine and smarting muscles. "A rough night is not a problem." She turns, observing me with a raised eyebrow. "Right, cause you are just buzzing with uncontained energy." I'm bending and stretching my neck just so, making Jules wince at the very audible crack. "I am, don't like the rain, that's all." She shakes her head, turning back towards the mirror to brush her hair before pulling a warm sweater over her head. "So you say that every time it rains, you get an instant makeover into a walking dead? Really?"

She's trying to profile me, isn't she.

Or maybe she's just trying to get to know the new maniac a little better…

My tired face and slumped shoulders must have given away more than I intended. "You can talk to us you know. There's a reason we do this job as a team, and tonight was terrible…and if it has nothing to do with tonight or work, you can still talk to me."

I swear if she says "we girls gotta stick together"…

I do another stretch and frown in annoyed jealousy over how she ties on her shoes with ease. But then again, she didn't spend the night cowering in someone's backyard. Fuckin' rain! I sigh, turning my attention back towards my uncooperative shoelaces.

Trust her. I think to myself. Confide in her, you could need a female non-violent friend. Not to mention a friend in the team, you gotta start somewhere kid.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Jules!" I'm on my feet before I can convince myself that I'm fine. Cause really, with this job, I can't afford to be the strong lone wolf. That's not how a team works. That's not how I'm gonna gain their trust. "I…" And she suddenly looks so hopeful and encouraging, almost like I'm a subject agreeing to step away from the edge.

And what the hell am I supposed to say. The hell am I doing?

"I…I have trouble sleeping on an empty stomach…so, maybe, we could go get some breakfast, or just coffee…or something…if you're not busy." Only half a lie, good girl. And while I'm sure I looked like I tried to disarm a bomb with a bucket of nitroglycerin on my head, Jules looked for the world like she just had made an incredible breakthrough. And honestly, between just you and me, even if it was me trying to avoid a bullet and make friends at the same time, she had.

"Sounds like an excellent idea! I know just the place." Jules had me in my shoes and dragged through the corridors before I could blink, happily chattering away about everything and anything. I wonder if she always talks like this outside work, or if it is part of the plan to keep my mind occupied until I am safely locked inside the car where it is too late to run. Maybe both. Sneaky woman…I like her.

"I call shotgun!" I blink. We're standing next to Jules car, she has already thrown our bags into the trunk and is climbing into the passenger seat with a wide grin.

Seriously?

I snort, jumping in behind the wheel wearing a grin of my own. "I offer breakfast and you make me drive…nice." My only response is a light laugh and directions to our goal.

I am warming up to this woman way faster than I'm comfortable with.

I stop mid-chew, chicken sandwich in one hand and a bucket off coffee in the other, to throw a suspicious glare at Jules who have barely touched her beagle yet. Not to mention that little smile she was wearing. "You look way too pleased with yourself." I'd quickly realized that tipping around on your toes was not a necessity with my female companion, and I started to treat her like I treated everyone else; with suspicion, sarcasm and a mild case of badly contained anger. "Well, I am. Got you all to myself now and, even though you obviously were very hungry…" I shrug, taking another bite of my delicious breakfast. If she wants manners she better find herself another breakfast buddy. I always eat as if I'm starved. Well, I usually am. Let me tell you that it takes a lot of energy being suspicious and angry at the world.

Jules however seemed completely unfazed. But then again, she had a couple of older brothers. "But being hungry is not the reason you look like you're about to drop. So spill. Just between the two of us." I take another mouthful of coffee, quickly weighting the pros and cons of spilling my guts to my teammate, which I only have known for about a week by the way, and figured I could tell her parts of it. The parts that wouldn't put me under the very watchful eyes of a psychiatrist. Cause that have never happened before. I sigh.

"Jules, could I just ask you something?" She nods, slowly sipping her own coffee. "Did Sarge put you up to this interrogation?"

Cause if he did, he is not the man I thought he was. Hoped he was.

"No." The answer is immediate. And she looks so serious, eyes meeting mine without even a hint of hesitation. "If Sarge wants to know something he'll ask you himself. I'm just worried. The whole team is, even though we barely know you yet, and soon you'll begin to notice." She gives me a smile, eyes sparkling in a way that makes me unsure if she's joking or not. "Don't be surprised if Wordy invites you over for dinner so you can meet his wife and daughters. That's his sneaky way to get information." Then she's suddenly serious again, her searching eyes serene, and seemingly seeing way to much without a word being said. "Whatever it is, it's wearing you down. I'm not expecting you to tell me your life story, just give me, us, something. One piece at the time…"

Those who don't bend always have a breaking point. And if you do, it'll be an ugly break.

"I don't sleep well. Sometimes not at all actually." I feel the mask slip into place the second I open my mouth. A carefully arranged, blank expression designed to not give anything away. Though, considering who I'm facing it probably said more than it covered and I drag a hand over my face, mindful of the make-up still required to hide the week-old bruises. "It's usually not really a problem, I can high function on just a few hours every couple of days but…this past week, since joining you…I guess going from 99 to 150 percent in seven days threw me of balance." I know how it sounds; a police officer with insomnia usually means a shitload of trouble and I expect Jules to call me on it. Only, she doesn't. I take another sip of my coffee, unsure how to continue I twist slightly in my seat to put my back against the wall. The new position allows me to survey the café, free sight over both exits as well as the kitchen door, no way anyone is sneaking up on me. While I make myself comfortable Jules silently observes.

It was the way she had placed herself, back against the wall, as well as upon entering choosing a table that allowed her full view over the area that was familiar. Jules recalled it was something Sam sometimes did, out of habit even though it was no longer necessary and she made a mental note to ask Sarge if their rookie had been in the army. While Christina nursed the remains of her coffee Jules thought back on the past week. Even though she sometimes looked as good as dead on her feet when she stumble in for a shift she never slipped on the job, always full concentration on the briefings, high alert on hot calls and with a fight-till-you-fall attitude during their workouts. So she could function, and function well at that, on a few hours' sleep. But it wasn't healthy, though judging the slightly worried look now shadowing her tired eyes, she knew that. Jules stretched over the table, carefully tapping her finger against the others wrist. "It might be easier to sleep if you talk about why you can't."

For a second I hold my breath, forcing myself not to flinch at the unexpected touch before glancing over at Jules. "Just between friends, right?" I receive a bright, happy smile in return. "Of course, completely off the record."

"I have these B-horror-movie dreams."

"What now?"

"Nightmares."

"Oh…so…you dream about Freddy Kruger?"

I choke on my last mouthful of coffee, coughing and spluttering curses while Jules delighted laugh rings through the café turning the heads of the few remaining customers.

"I won't tell you bloody anything!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Pretty please?"

"Uh-uh. No way!"