Despite the success of her first date Nikki still got butterflies in her stomach every time she caught sight of Trish at school.

It was a week of smiles as they passed in the corridors, of sitting together at lunch, of just holding hands and talking rubbish. Little, innocent things that shot a thrill of unexplainable nerves and excitement through her nonetheless. And then of course there was their new morning routine:

"Do you want a lift?"

Nikki was already grinning, had been since she first heard the now familiar purr of the red convertible's engine creeping up behind her. She glanced to the side as the car pulled level with her, Trish's teasing smile beaming back at her. She shook her head and put on a spurt, sneaking ahead of the vehicle for a grand total of four seconds before Trish put her foot down and shot ahead, stopping about fifty meters further up the empty road.

The older girl shifted to lean out over the back seat, waiting for Nikki to get closer before calling out once more: "You sure? It's like forty degrees out here."

"Be hotter later." Nikki ground out as she ran past. Trish swiveled back round and restarted the car, obliterating the youngster's temporary lead and trying to match pace with her, a surprisingly difficult task. "Go any slower and that car's going to stall."

"Then you'd have to stop and fix it for me."

"Fix a stall? If you can't manage that you shouldn't be driving!" And so the banter would continue until one of them feigned offense, Trish speeding away distraught or Nikki turning and running the opposite direction for a bit in disgust. Then it would all be twinkling eyes and repressed laughter next time their eyes met and the same game again next morning.

On Monday the offer of a lift had been genuine and made towards the very start of the journey, by Wednesday however Trish had accepted Nikki either wanted or needed to run and restricted her disruptive activities to the end of the route, on that last little desolate stretch before civilisation started to appear and they had to be safe and sensible again.

Thursday had been the hottest day of the summer so far, which may explain why the usually low-crime colony experienced its first ever drive-by shooting as Trish rolled past firing a water gun.

Friday saw Shepard engage in some pre-emptive self-defence, checking the road was its usual empty self before unloading with a small water pistol of her own, her aim in serious need of improvement.

It was a good thing there was no school on Saturday or who knows what form of retaliation it might have brought. Before they could get to the weekend however there was still one more day to get through and Friday night was Fight Night on Mindoir, always had been always will be.

...

All other considerations faded as Nicola felt the familiar pre-fight buzz, unlike the other, more recent butterflies, these jitters were old friends and she knew just how to handle them.

Everything always seemed to just click into place as she shadow boxed in the dressing room, the calm before the storm. Her storm. Every tingle of nerves cast into the pit of her stomach then wrangled under control, converted into raw energy and tempered, ready to be unleashed upon her opponent.

Tonight it was Guzman. 5-3-1, not her record, their record. It had been nearly a year since they last fought, but there were only so many amateur fighters in her age and weight class on Mindoir, rematches were common. So far Nikki was in the lead against this particular rival and she intended to keep it that way.

Familiar music blasted out and she started her walk to the ring, the sights and sounds of the crowd washing over her like a tidal wave. It was an experience that had swept her up and nearly drowned her on her debut years ago, but now she was more experienced and knew how to flow with it, to be carried along in the current while keeping her head above the water. Through the ropes, through the intros, through the referee's final instructions.

"... and no naughties with the head. Good luck, shake hands and back to your corners." The bell rang and suddenly there was no crowd, no thoughts, there was only her and her opponent.

Double jab, right cross, duck beneath a hook, body shot while you're down there and rise with an uppercut. Everything flowed smoothe. Guzman landed a couple of shots on her gloves but Shepard fired right back.

On your toes, on your toes. Box, box, box. She wasn't even sure if the corner was shouting or if the familiar mantra was replaying in her mind from all the times it had been drummed into her through the years.

The bell rang.

"Looking sharp kid. Her right hand guard's starting to drop low but don't fall for it, remember that's how she got you last year."

Bell.

Punch and move and block and counter and duck and move and punch. Over and over, a constantly moving, constantly changing flow and bell.

"Hey Nikki!" She peered out the ring at the shout from her younger brother, "Del Toro just walked in."

She shouldn't have looked, it didn't matter who was watching, even if it was Mindoir's biggest boxing legend turned promoter. All that mattered in a fight was what was in the ring, she knew that, but still she turned her head to look.

"Hey, focus!" The slap from her coach brought her attention back forward but not before she caught the faintest glimpse of blond. A second later her head was turning back round as her brain registered it. Blondes were rare, the only one she'd ever seen in person was... Alice, and there right beside her sat Trish. She felt her stomach do a summersault. The bell rang.

Her mind was racing. What was Trish doing here? Neither of them had mentioned the fight. Had she? Then again it was hardly a secret that she boxed, she'd been boxing for years.

Come on, Trish might not even be here for you.

What for Guzman?

No stupid! But there's plenty other fights, she might just be here as a generic fan, there ARE fight nights here every week.

Punches were coming through now that she would have avoided normally, her fists fighting back on autopilot. A big right hook, stumbled her back a couple paces into the ropes, a cut opening up over her eyebrow. It woke her up and she managed to turn her opponent, landing a couple of shots of her own before dancing away. The bell rang.

"What the hell was that kid?"

By rights she knew she should have got another wake up slap, but the coach was too busy working on the cut with cotton swabs. No medigel allowed, traditional cut stopping techniques only until the match was over.

"Come on Nikki!" She recognised her father's voice at ringside, caught sight of the telltale orange glow of an omni-tool. "I didn't bribe those nurses so your mother could watch you lose!"

Those words seemed to have the desired effect and the last round was better, focusing on her opponent and casting away all other thoughts once more, although she never quite got back into the rhythm of the first two rounds. As the bell rang for the final time the referee had no hesitation raising her hand, the roar of the crowd lifting her even higher.

"Trish! What are you doing here?" The boxer asked after fighting her way through the crowd, adrenaline still pumping through her veins.

"Supporting our Henry here on his debut," she nodded down at a small boy, his bright blond hair leaving no doubt which of the girls he was related to. "We were just on our way out when they announced you. You were pretty impressive."

"Nah, I was way off in the last two rounds. You should see me when you're not watching!" Before anyone could comment on the wording they were interrupted by the rest of the Shepard clan.

"Nikki, get over here! Mom wants a word." She flashed an apologetic smile at Trish and after confirming their original plans for the weekend were still a go, the teenagers went their separate ways.