A/N: I am technically aware of the fact that my timeline is a little…wacky. The previous chapter has talked about Steph being gone from EE Martin for eight months and now we sort of jump back to a few weeks/months after she joined RangeMan.
It might come to you as a big surprise to learn that I hated being active. While I admired people that loved sports and gave their all running marathons and powerlifting cars, I was more than content admiring these abilities from the comfort of my home and couch, preferably with a large pizza as entertainment and nutrition. I knew there were definitely healthier ways about it, but… well. The world needed to be balanced, right? So, for every super active person, it was only logical there to be someone who wasn't. Though my days as couch potato were numbered the moment I started working for RangeMan. And while Carlos, as well as Tank and Bobby, had mentioned there would be an annual physical, I hadn't really thought it through. Good thing there were plenty of ways to work out, work on your fitness and stamina and gain a little muscle. And even better, there seemed to be an endless supply of MerryMan that offered their time and knowledge, helping me find what worked for me.
I had initially assumed we all would be doing the same dull workouts, treadmills and weight lifting when in reality there were plenty of options. Sure, there were no courses like in a gym you needed membership for, but somehow, I also didn't see Zero, Hal or Binkie and everyone else partaking in Step Aerobics anytime soon. If, however, they should, I definitely needed to sell tickets. Just saying.
My first day trying to be active was… well, I had good intentions, let's agree on that. But I also wasn't stupid and definitely had no desire embarrassing me in front of a bunch of guys that seemed to live in a gym. So, clever me decided to hit the gym at a time where I was guaranteed to have very few colleagues around. They didn't need to become witnesses to my epic failure, which I was certain this would entail to.
By default, a few things were already ruled out, because I wasn't completely incompetent. Weights were something for Advanced Me and so was all the equipment I couldn't even operate, let alone know what it could be used for. I was no runner, but knew there were very few things you could do wrong with a treadmill. Same went for the Spinning Bike.
For a week, I went with my program, hating more or less every moment of it and often enough having to force myself to actually get started. I really could think of more pleasant ways to spend your time. But, I did it and that was all that was important, right? I seemed to have figured out the perfect time schedule since in the entire week not a single RangeMan guy seemed to use the gym while I was at it. Or so I thought.
I was just dismounting the bike after a good 30 minutes on it, giving my all, when I heard the door behind me open.
"Ranger is going to kill me," I heard Cal's voice, who seemed to approach quickly. "But I really can't look at this a minute longer."
"What…what are you talking about?" I asked.
"When you decided last week that it was time to work on your fitness, Ranger instructed everyone to not even think of using the gym while you were down here, which is totally fine, since… well, all of us got it and most of us work out in the mornings, anyway. So, you choosing late at night wasn't like it interrupted any of our schedules."
"Wait…. You all knew?" I asked, feeling weird things I couldn't quite explain or pinpoint. It wasn't anger or worry, but rather a weird form of embarrassment. And here I thought I had been so clever.
"Well… yes," Cal replied cautiously. "There's a camera in front of the gym that has a motion sensor. So whenever you stepped off the elevator or came from the stairs, the camera was activated," he explained and my mind went in a lot of different directions, which Cal must have somehow realized. "No… no cameras inside the gym," he rushed out another explanation. "I was on monitors the first and second day when you came down here and noticed how you looked pretty miserable when you were done. So… on the third day… I… um… just wanted to see what you got up to when down here and…. You didn't look like you actually enjoyed a single minute."
"You were spying on me?" I asked, and it might have sounded a lot more accusing than I had meant for it to be. Though, maybe that wasn't for the worst. While I certainly wasn't running or biking in the nude, I didn't feel comfortable with the knowledge that I had a witness to my misery and probable failure.
"Not with ulterior motives," he more or less shouted anxiously. "I swear, I was not… peeping or anything. I just…was curious to see what you did and why you looked so miserable."
"To some degree, that is the definition of peeping," I clarified, seeing Cal shift almost into panic mode. "But that aside, I look miserable, most likely because I am. I really don't understand how anyone can enjoy this. I mean, it is probably not as bad as other things, but… let's agree I will never be a competitor for Ms Active, shall we?"
"First of all, maybe you need someone to be your workout buddy, to make things a little easier and more fun, set goals with you and make this less of an ordeal. Secondly, you do know that there are plenty of other options, right? And third, um… while this won't improve general levels of enjoyment, it is maybe important to mention the bike should be adjusted to your own requirements, meaning you need to move the saddle up and a little further back. You could technically move the handle bar but… it seemed to be okay as it is."
Instead of replying, I just looked at him, mixed feelings of every possible nature fighting themselves. I needed to think his words over for a moment, coming to terms with the fact I hadn't been as sneaky as I had planned. But who was really surprised here? I worked for a security company. Of course they would know and of course there would be cameras somewhere—or everywhere.
"What other options?" I finally asked, curious. It was also the easiest of all options. I wasn't sure how I felt about a workout buddy, especially seeing how fit all of these guys were. With my nonexistent levels of fitness, I would only slow them down.
He smiled at me softly for a moment before replying. "You do know there's more than running and a bicycle, right?" he asked, amused, and I nodded, obviously knowing there are more options. It was what scared me a little, because that is when you most likely needed help. He surprised me when he actually tackled that thought, making me think I must have spoken out loud involuntarily. "Despite what some guys and especially new hires at RangeMan might tell you, asking for help isn't a weakness, but rather a display of a strong character since you know your limits and are trying to work on them. in regard to exercise, asking for help is also occasionally crucial as well as lifesaving. You should never try heavy weight lifting all by yourself. And then there are contact sports, which more or less always require a second person."
"I see my mistake," I admitted, seeing him grin at me.
"Realizing your mistake is the first and most important part. The second most important and also maybe toughest part is figuring out what works for you."
"What is working for you, then?" I asked, curious. I knew most of the guys seemed to follow similar routines, consisting of weights and running, as well as sparing or hitting each other. I only knew any of this due to the tidbits I overheard occasionally.
"A wild mix of cardio and weights. But that is really just me, though most of us have various degrees of it included into their workout routines. But Ranger, for example, is doing a lot of swimming. Vince does Krav Manga, Zip and Binkie are in constant competition for who uses the rowing machines more often and Lester – for whatever reason – spends two hours a day just climbing stairs."
"Two hours? Stairs?" I asked, not sure what shocked me more: the time, or that it was stairs he voluntarily climbed?
"It's Lester, isn't that enough of an explanation?" Cal asked, looking amused.
"True," I agreed, amused as well. Lester was someone kind of exotic who couldn't be explained in a few words and would most likely not make a lot of sense to most people. Often enough, he seemed like a contradiction.
"So, I take climbing stairs isn't your kind of workout?" he finally asked after my agreement about Lester hung in the air for a moment.
"I hardly am able to avoid the elevator whenever I walk with anyone of you in the same direction. I sure as hell won't start climbing stairs in my free time and as a fun activity."
"Between you and me, I don't believe Lester would classify it as fun, either. It is just his form of cardio and it does come with a ton of benefits."
"Nevertheless, I'll pass. Before I climb stairs for just an hour, I'd rather run and bike for four."
"Let's not go quite to such extremes, shall we?" Cal asked, seeming as amused as before. "Is there any kind of sport you would say you like?"
I thought about his question for a moment, grabbing my towel off the handle of the bike and wrapping it around my neck. "I do like swimming, though that might only be due to the fact that it doesn't make me sweat. I would, however, not classify myself as a serious swimmer and am far, far away from it being remotely professional looking. I just… swim, without all the fancy techniques or looking anything but elegant."
"If you enjoy it, who cares about professional or how elegant you look? Do you think all of us look good lifting weights or running several miles in the morning?"
And that was how I learned that it didn't matter how I might look or feel, as long as I did something I actually enjoyed. I realized how much of an idiot I had been, worrying about everyone else and how I might slow them down when asking for help.
A week after my conversation with Cal, I gave up running—for now—and settled on swimming. I asked a couple of the Merry Man whether they'd be okay to give me a few pointers here and there with some light cardio and ended up getting very effective martial arts lessons from Zero.
Of course, I wasn't feeling it right from the start and on some days needed extra motivation to get even out of bed, facing various equipment that sparked less than joyous feelings when thinking about the sore muscles I would definitely feel the next day. I still didn't quite understand how any of the guys seemed to look like they actually enjoyed themselves during whatever workout regime they followed.
There was, however, an exception. Four times a week I choose to swim and it was definitely a stark contrast to my usual workout. I did enjoy that form of exercise, despite the fact that I was less than gracious in doing it. But the main reason for my enthusiasm was actually more concerning the scenery—more or less.
I don't know whether you could call it lucky timing or a co-incidence but after about four weeks of swimming and it becoming obvious that the only two people who ever really used the pool seemed to be Carlos and me and we managed to find a schedule. Not that we ever talked about it, planned it or scheduled anything. And maybe I worked out a time he was usually going for his laps and choose to finish my laps around the same time he showed up. The first time was unplanned, and I was pretty much unprepared for the sight I was about to catch. Because Carlos Manoso in nothing more than swimming trunks was something you needed a moment to get used to seeing.
Due to my time in the gym and by now being almost always surrounded by one or more Merry Man, I was used to a lot. I mean, it seemed like one requirement to get employed at RangeMan was to be buff and built and just really nice to look at. And okay, maybe that was three requirements, but anyway, being around these guys in various states of dressed—or undressed—nothing fazed me easily anymore. But then again, there was a difference between them and their boss. Mainly that I had the hots for Carlos, which wasn't much of a surprise and depending on Lester's mood sometimes was more of a topic and some days it was ignored. I didn't know who else was in the known apart from Lester and quite honestly didn't care. It wasn't like I planned on acting on anything, no matter how much Lester pushed and complained that his cousin needed to get laid. That was also information I did not need. Not that Lester ever listened.
It was also during one of that inter-crossing of me finishing my training and Carlos starting his that I would learn a valuable lesson in playing it safe. I don't remember much of the incident itself. Just that I for whatever reason felt a sudden need of playing things pretty cool when I was finishing and he was getting ready for his workout in the pool.
I had done the move multiple times in various degrees of graceful. Swimming towards the edge, I placed my hands on the tiled floor and hoisted myself up and out of the pool. At least that would have been the plan, because who used ladders? Last thing I remember was my hand slipping on the wet tiles and going the wrong direction, feeling a sharp pain against my temple a second later when my head hit the edge of the pool and sinking back into the water shortly after that.
Next thing I remember was someone's lips on mine and a hand pressing on my ribcage. I was overcome with an immediate need to breathe, but couldn't. Something was stopping me. Something was blocking me and it certainly wasn't whoever has his lips on mine and his hands on my ribcage. No, something inside me was making it almost impossible for me to breathe. Until I felt a need of sorts, like something wanted to get out, escape and before I knew it, I turned to my side and I was sputtering water, breathing no longer an issue. I took some deep and hasty breaths, feeling like I couldn't get enough air for what my body required and by the time I had managed to calm down and realize I was in fact not suffocating, I saw Carlos kneeling to my right, looking like he had just suffered half a heart attack. I spotted Bobby behind him, looking just as bad.
"Thank God," one of the two muttered, relief clearly visible on both faces.
"What happened?" I asked, blurry about the details of the last few moments.
"You had a dizzy spell when exiting the pool, lost balance and slipped back into the water, hitting your head on the edge on your way down."
I might not remember the whole thing, but even I knew that calling my lousy attempt at looking cool a dizzy spell was Carlos saving my dignity.
"Looks like you bumped your head quite badly," Bobby diagnosed before shining a bright light into my eyes.
"Might explain the headache," I said, attempting to be funny, which neither man went for.
"This could have ended really badly, Steph," Bobby conducted, and I wasn't stupid. Just by Carlos' retelling, it sounded like this could have gone a million ways to hell and I was just lucky. Or dumb seeing how I myself had been the whole reason this had gone sideways.
"Thanks for being there," I said to Carlos, who still looked at me uncertain and with plenty of concern. "I guess ladders for me from here on out."
"I'd like to examine you to make sure you are really okay," Bobby suggested with a certain undertone that made it clear this was less a request. No need for me to make this anymore embarrassing than what it already was. I had hit my head often enough to know when it would be serious, so I shock it and declined his offer.
"I appreciate it but I'm fine, really. I just… have a bit of a headache but that's about it," I explained, but saw Bobby look at me with an expression that showed he wasn't going for it. So, I said with a bit more force: "I'm really fine, no worries and nothing an aspirin won't fix."
"That's not really how it works, and I just want to make sure you don't have a concussion."
"Bobby," I said, with even more force, making him look at me, almost shocked. "I am fine. Really. Was I stupid in my actions? Probably. But there really is no need to fuss and things. I'll be alright."
I saw how he started on another convincer but stopped momentarily, probably realizing my mind was set. He was a doctor and could definitely be stubborn about his findings and examinations and being on your case, but I could be even more stubborn when I really, really didn't want something. As he was just finding out.
I saw the look he threw Carlos and prepared myself for another bout of convincingly declaring "I'm fine" when Carlos took over.
"I can't force you to a medical examination you don't want. I can, however, tell you to take the day off and make sure you are not to be left to your own devices."
"That is really not necessary. And also, how exactly would you make sure of that?"
He smiled at me almost devilishly for a second and I wondered whether I'd regret my question. "I own the company, Babe. Technically, all I would need to do was snap a finger—well, figuratively. There's also Arch and Zip, who are on desk duty due to injuries. Trust me, at this point they are glad for any excuse to get away from their desks. And that also applies to almost everyone else, seeing it is a fairly quiet time and most are technically required to catch up with their paperwork."
"You can't just order someone to …to watch me," I exclaimed, almost outraged for no real reason.
"Why not? For me or any of them, it wouldn't matter whether it's paperwork they are doing or you they are watching," he said matter-of-factly and for a moment I wondered whether now was the moment I could rightfully be outraged. "That came out wrong," he corrected himself. "It is just… I know you'd worry about keeping someone from some important work and me having priorities wrong and ordering someone to watch you who would rather watch grass grow or something."
"Um…" I started and saw Carlos hold up his hand once more, going for a third trial of getting this right.
"What I mean is that your health and wellbeing are as important as every important job and so is technically everyone else's. If this was Bones or Lester or anyone else with a similar issue, I wouldn't do it any other way. I would probably also argue just as much with any of them as with you right now."
"What would you do if I just get up and leave for my own place on the other side of town? It's not like you or any of them could just invite yourself to my place."
"If you believe I'd let you just get into a car and drive across town, you are out of your mind. I'd get your car keys and make sure one of the guys drives you home. If you don't want to welcome them to your place, fair enough, but they'd plant themselves in front of your front door and check every hour or so for some noise coming from inside. If there's no noise, I'm almost certain I could claim medical necessity for breaking and entering into your place."
I was certain he was stretching things and how far the law might cover him a little, but also felt my headache increase and knew in the end this argument could go on for a while and it wouldn't lead to any other outcome than what Carlos had in mind. Because when it came to stubbornness, he had Dr. Bobby and me beat.
Letting out a sigh, I gave in and just nodded. "If this is the way it has to go, I'd rather stay here, seeing that I at least don't keep anyone too far away from possible action if there is an emergency or something."
"While I am impressed with your commitment to keep this company running as smooth as possible, I'd like it even more if for a change you could put yourself first."
I kept my mouth shut at his comment, figuring there wasn't much I could reply, anyway. It wasn't like I was a pushover or put everyone ahead of my own needs and desires, but I also hated an abundance of attention that put the spotlight on the wrong things, people, or issues. And while my health was maybe reason for concern, it wasn't like I'd be dying soon. My answer eventually was just a sigh, though unintentional. I knew when a battle was lost.
"Good, we are making progress," Carlos said, offered me his hand and pulled me up a moment later.
The swaying that followed his rather powerful display of strength was chalked up to simply me being overpowered and surprised at the ease of getting me back to my feet. Despite the fact that he threw me a cautious look, seeming like he was about to say something I was set on sticking with that explanation. Which lasted for about ten seconds at best before somehow my head became a little fuzzy and the swaying increased with me having difficulties to keep my balance.
"Sure, you are alright," I heard both men's slightly sarcastic comment and a moment later found myself in Carlos' arms when he literally swooped me up.
"Put me down," I tried to protest, especially when we started moving towards the door.
"I'll let you choose between two options: it's either a full medical examination to make sure you really are alright or you get carried to avoid further issues. Pick one: option A or B!"
It sounded like a picking between pest or cholera, but somehow suspected this was as much leeway as I would be granted. The decision wasn't hard as such, especially seeing how long a medical might take. So, I nodded and let him do his thing, hoping there wasn't too much of an audience to come witness to my morning activities and how they ended.