Lewis stepped in, ducking under the lazy right hook, throwing jabs at her padded opponent. Her padded fists thumped against the figure's forearms as they blocked her punches. It felt like she was hitting a padded stone wall, but she ignored the feeling of futility, weaving away from several slow punches before darting back in to jab at her opponent again.

"Faster, harder," The deep rumble broke through her concentration. "You're slowing down."

Lewis snapped her head, flicking the sweat from her face without taking her eyes from the massive figure of her opponent. She stepped forward, forgoing jabs for full strength punches, trying to get through her opponent's guard.

Finally Lewis stepped back, gasping, dropping her hands down to let her opponent know that she needed a break.

She wiped off her brow with her forearm, breathing deep, trying to control her breathing and slow her heartrate. She spit out the mouth guard, letting it smack against her skin.

"Your distracted, angry," Monkey rumbled, moving over to the desk and picking up a bottle of Gatorade. "It's slowing you down, dividing your attention."

"Yeah," Lewis grunted, shaking out her hands.

Hitting Monkey was basically like hitting stone, leaving her hands tingling and aching. The big man wasn't even winded, wasn't even sweating.

"It's OK, Berserker," Monkey said, unscrewing the cap from the bottle. He took a long swig off it, capped it, and tossed it to Lewis. "Whatever's bugging you, we'll keep going, let you work some of that anger and frustration out."

"Thanks," Lewis said, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink. It tasted sweet, her body telling her that she was running low on electrolytes and other important trace minerals. She took another drink, capped it, and tossed it back to Monkey.

"You need to learn to go hammer and tongs no matter how you personally feel, Berserker," Monkey said, setting the half-empty bottle on the desk. "Even if you're tired, sore, or secretly want to lay down and die. You get in close and keep slugging. Put the hurt on your opponent, take the hurt they offer back, and give them every bit of pain you're feeling."

Lewis nodded, grabbing the thong the mouth guard hung on and putting it back in her mouth. She bit deeply bringing her hands up.

"Come at me like you mean it, Berserker," Monkey said, bringing his hands up.

Lewis moved back in, jabbing and moving. Monkey had a good foot of reach on her, forcing her to back up, weave out of the way of the slow moving blows, then come in fast, strike, and fade back. Monkey started calling out shots. Right cross. Left hook. Combo. Uppercut. He kept deflecting them, taking the punches on his forearms, slapping them away, or just letting them hit his ribs, which seemed to Lewis like it didn't even have any effect.

"You're telegraphing too much. Stop rolling your right shoulder before you throw your right," Monkey growled after slapping away a right cross. "Break."

Lewis stepped back, spitting out the mouth guard.

"Your hand work is going well, but your footwork is for shit. You keep over-extending, keep going off balance," Monkey said, tossing her the Gatorade.

Lewis took a long drink, capped it, then tossed it back. "I keep going to kick. We've been training out at Atlas."

Monkey nodded. "Miranda's an expert. She's forgotten more about fighting than I know," He admitted, shrugging. "You should have said something."

He moved over to the duffle bag, digging in it and then throwing pads toward Lewis. "Put that gear on. We'll pad your shins and knees, go at it again. You're still really angry."

"Why are we doing this on a Tuesday?" Lewis asked, wrapping the pad around her shin and threading the Velcro straps.

"Tony told me you'd had a rough day, asked me to spar with you," Monkey rumbled, shrugging. "From the way you're coming at me, looks like he was right."

Lewis felt a chill. "Did he tell you why?"

Monkey shook his head. "No, and I didn't ask."

"Oh," Lewis said. She should have known. Ant had stuck up for her, gone nose to nose with the Major from S-2 about keeping her clearances intact, not having it be a black mark on her record that she'd hidden her son from her military records. She knew that Sergeant Bomber wouldn't say anything, and despite the rumored friction between Ant and Nagle, it seemed he still trusted her enough to have her present.

"You wanna talk about it?" Monkey shrugged.

Lewis thought about it for a moment. "A little," she said, tightening down the Velcro straps.

"You ain't gotta," Monkey rumbled. "If you'd rather come at me, we're good that way too."

"Can I think about it?" Lewis asked.

Monkey nodded. "Full contact full sparring, or you still want to just train?" He picked up the padded striker gloves and raised an eyebrow.

Lewis was tempted to go full contact. See how well she fared against the big NCO, but part of her was still afraid of one of those massive scarred fists connecting.

"I don't know," Lewis said, standing up. The padding made her legs heavier. She shuffled around a moment, getting used to it. After a moment she looked at Monkey, putting in her mouth guard again. She slammed her fists together and moved forward, looking at the big NCO to try to see any weaknesses in his guard.

He looked wide open on his left side, his blind eye hampering him from tracking her.

She knew better than that. She'd been on the floor against on him during Thug Night before and knew it was a setup.

Still, she slid forward like she was going to circle around to his left, then moved right, launching a kick at him that he slapped away and then moving in with a rapid flurry of strikes. Lewis felt everything click together. What she'd learned on the fourth floor, what she'd learned in the sand pit out at Atlas, what little she'd learned in Basic Training.

If I knew this two years ago, I could have defended myself...

Lewis felt that cold core of rage she kept hidden inside heat up and she launched herself at Monkey again. The few punches and kicks that he didn't deflect or move out of the way of hit him in the ribs or he took on the shin or outside of the thigh. She started moving faster, getting more aggressive.

"Faster, harder," Monkey growled, throwing a looping right hand that she ducked under. She knew better than to try to grab his wrist and take control of his arm. That would let him yank her close, and if he got her in a clinch, he'd tear her apart.

Lewis stepped back, wiping her forehead. "I'm ready," She said around her mouth guard.

Monkey nodded, motioning at her to come at him.

She didn't lead with a kick. Stokes had stressed how opening with a kick before you'd judged your opponent's speed, reach, power, and skill was dangerous. Instead she moved to the side, weaving away from two punches and slapping a third away.

Long moments passed, punctuated only by the smack of connecting blows, panting, and grunts of exertion or pain.

Lewis wasn't quite fast enough and a fist grazed her mouth, splitting her lip and filling her mouth with the taste of blood. A red haze tried to fill her vision, but she pushed it back.

The cold core of rage expanded, filling her, and she growled as she came in low, ducking her head to take a strike on the armored plate of her forehead instead of into the face. Tensed muscles kept her head from snapping back, letting the blow glance off her forehead. She moved in, throwing a knee into Monkey's side.

She realized too late he'd suckered her. His arm crushed her against him and his fist crashed into her stomach, bending her over. His padded elbow hit the back of her head, driving her face first into the floor.

"Tap out," Monkey growled, putting his boot on the back of her neck.

Lewis felt the rage ebb away and slapped the floor. Monkey moved his boot and Lewis rolled over, accepting the offered hand and letting him pull her to her feet.

"You all right?" Monkey asked.

"Yeah," Lewis said, spitting out the mouth guard. She moved over to the desk and sat down in the chair. "Got too eager."

Monkey nodded. "Yeah, you did. Anyone else, you'd probably have been able to take them."

Lewis nodded. Monkey had already gotten his breathing under control and wasn't even that sweaty, where Lewis was still struggling to control her breathing and was covered in sweat. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Monkey asked, sitting down opposite of her. He reached into the garbage, grabbing an empty soda can and setting it on the desk.

"Why doesn't anything seem to hurt you?" Lewis asked as Monkey picked up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter that he'd left on the desk.

Monkey lit the cigarette, snapping the Zippo shut, then looked at Lewis through the cloud of smoke he exhaled. "You think it doesn't hurt?"

Lewis shook her head. "I've never seen anything bother you."

"Or my brother," Monkey rumbled.

Lewis giggled. "I don't think he exactly counts."

Monkey let out a low chuckle. "He's something."

"How do you do it?" Lewis asked again.

"It isn't that it doesn't hurt, Berserker," Monkey said, reaching out and tapping the desk. "It's that I don't care. No matter how hard a person hits me, it's nothing like the punches that life throws at me."

Lewis shook her head. "It's just... I mean... how do you handle the pain?"

Monkey grabbed one of the cold beers from beside the desk, popping the cap off by putting the edge of it against the lip of the desk and smacking the top. It popped off and he grabbed it in mid-air, still staring at her.

"I don't think we're talking about brawling, are we?" Monkey said gently.

"I don't know. I don't know if I'm up to talking about it," Lewis admitted.

"Then don't. We've all got our dark secrets. The stuff we hide even from ourselves. You don't have to talk about what's wrong, what's eating you up inside," Monkey said. He waved vaguely in the direction of the barracks. "You can be like my brother, bottle everything up inside, compartmentalize it all, until there's nothing left of you but the machine."

Lewis stared. "Is that what he does?"

Monkey nodded. "He has since he was a little kid. Boy's had terrible things happen to him and done to him. He just locks it away, pushes it aside, and goes somewhere else. It's been particularly bad the last couple of years though."

Monkey exhaled. "But hell, I don't need to tell you that. You've seen it. Hell, that Roberts kid getting chewed up by Ivan has him all twisted up right now."

Lewis accepted the offered beer. "Really?"

Monkey nodded. "Roberts hasn't even been in for a year and he's already been busted up really badly. I know my brother, and I know that he feels responsible. Yeah, you guys walked into an ambush, yeah, Ivan knew what he was doing the whole way, but Tony, he feels responsible for you guys."

Lewis just nodded.

"He's gone over the after action reports over and over, trying to figure out where he could have done something different, seen some clue, figured out a different strategy. Roberts had left his battle-rattle in the CUC-V which had gotten blown up at the convoy so he wasn't wearing his vest," Monkey said, polishing off the beer and grabbing another one.

Lewis just stared at the man. She'd never thought about the convoy explosion or the Soviet ambush outside of the blinding fear and pain she'd gone through. She'd never thought about how it would be to be forced to go over what had happened repeatedly, looking for where the mistake was made that ended up with people being hurt. Not just accepting any blame people put on her, but actively looking for any fault in her decisions.

To Lewis, that sounded like hell.

"Group's out of body armor, so Roberts went into that fight without all his gear. Tony's trying to figure out how he could have changed things on his end, but," The big NCO shrugged and took a drink off his beer. "Tony's having to accept the fact that it was out of his control, and it's eating him up inside."

Lewis felt a little off balance. The idea of Sergeant Stillwater agonizing over a mission that had ended in success seemed strange, alien, to Lewis.

"So Tony's been in a bit of a mood the last month or so, trying to make sure that something like that never happens again," Monkey said, dropping his cigarette butt into the empty soda can.

Lewis nodded.

"What's bugging you?" He asked suddenly.

Lewis sat perfectly still for a second, then looked at the big NCO's battered face. She could see past the brawler, see that he actually cared about what was bothering her.

The idea of it startled her.

"I've got a son. I didn't tell the Army about it because I didn't want anyone to know," Lewis admitted. Monkey didn't say anything, just nodded. "Lot of reasons. Bad reasons."

"You don't have to tell me," Monkey said gently. "I'm just a big thug that brawls with you now and then."

Lewis smiled, snuffling and wiping her nose.

"Can I tell you? It's a terrible story," She said.

"So what else is new?" Monkey shrugged. "We're all terrible people, we all do terrible things, this is a terrible place."

That made Lewis laugh.

"Yeah. You can tell me. Unless it's some shit that has to be reported to S-2, I'll keep my big redneck mouth shut about it," Monkey said. "Anyone else know the story?"

"Just a few people, you know?" Lewis laughed bitterly. "My step-mom. My dad. My step-brother. The cops. CPS. A judge. The lawyers. Everyone in school. A therapist. A family counselor."

Monkey nodded. "So everyone that doesn't give a shit knows the story, but nobody that cared?"

Lewis nodded back. "I thought, you know, that my dad would care."

"Let me guess, it call got turned around you," Monkey rumbled, cracking open another beer and handing it to Lewis, who nodded at what he was saying. "So did everyone decide you were a slutty little eight year old who bewitched the other person?"

"Nine," Lewis said.

Monkey lit a cigarette. "Those damn nine year old sluts, all running around being all sexy and stuff," He snorted. "You told what was being done to you, and suddenly you were the bad one."

Lewis nodded. She went to wipe the tears from her face and Monkey grabbed her hand.

"Don't. Never be ashamed of your tears, never be ashamed of honest emotions," He rumbled. "Cry if you must, there is no shame."

Lewis nodded slowly.

"So you ended up running away, to see if anyone loved you enough to promise to change things if you came back, and to get away from what was going on," Monkey said. He stood up, pulling out his wallet as he went over to one of the officer's offices. "You stayed away, and it hurt so bad that nobody cared enough to come get you. Then you joined the Army, hoping for a do-over."

Lewis watched him pull out his ID card and jimmy the lock, still talking. "You had to leave your baby behind," Monkey said, going into the office. He came back out with a bottle of rye whiskey, closing the door behind him. "Lieutenant Dawson always keeps a bottle in her desk drawer."

"How do you know all this?" Lewis asked. She couldn't imagine Monkey going through something like that.

Monkey shrugged. "My father is a foster father. You wouldn't believe how many times the police showed up in the middle of the night, bringing me a new brother or sister, with a tale just as bad as yours, or even worse."

He shook his head, uncorked the bottle, and took a long swig. "My little sister, Tabitha, was five when she was brought to our house in the middle of the night, covered in bandages, bruises, cockroach bites, and iodine from the ER. Dad was the only one who could touch her. Anyone else, and she just  screamed in fear and wet herself. When she turned about twelve, she started cutting herself to deal with it all. Bad things had happened to her, and her mother had made her feel like she deserved it all because she was a bad girl."

Lewis swallowed thickly. "What happened to her?"

Monkey handed Lewis the bottle. "Dad sent her to therapy. She has her rough days, but she's better now. Me and Tony, we write to her every week."

"Oh," Lewis said.

"You said you were fat before you joined the Army?" Monkey said. Lewis nodded and Monkey gave a half-smile that seemed sad. "Yeah. You gained weight to make yourself less appealing, you hoped. God, puberty must have seemed like you were being punished. Let me guess, you didn't age out of his attention, it got worse."

Lewis nodded again.

"He the father of your boy?" Monkey asked.

Again, Lewis nodded. "I don't care though. He's my son. He's so beautiful. I miss him a lot. I try not to think about it though."

Monkey nodded, passing Lewis back the bottle. She took a long drink and handed it back. "He's a good boy. Smart too. He was walking before he was a year old, potty trained before two. I'm just worried about everything I'm going to miss while I'm here."

Monkey nodded. "I get that. My son is in kindergarten now, he lives with my father. Ant, he's got a son he's never even seen."

Lewis frowned. "Ant has a son?"

Monkey nodded. "Yeah."

Lewis shook her head. "Damn. Does it bother you, everything your missing?"

Monkey nodded. "Yeah. A lot."

"Can I ask you what happened?" Lewis asked.

Monkey lifted his shirt up, tapping a scar just below his ribs. "His mother stabbed me one day when I came home from work. Nicked the lung," he pulled the shirt back down. "I was holding the baby, and I headed out the door. Slashed me a couple times across the back, chased me outside. Our neighbor called the MP's. She stabbed me in the back and the knife got stuck, punctured the same lung."

Lewis just stared.

"My Father and my Mom flew out with Tabitha, picked up my son while I was still in the hospital. My wife got four years probation, I got a restraining order," Monkey shrugged. "This is a terrible place."

Lewis nodded, taking another swig off the bottle and handing it back.

"You don't think any less of me, do you?" She asked.

Monkey shook his head. "No, Berserker, I don't," He yawned and stretched, checking his watch. "It's twenty-three hundred. You want me to walk you back to your room?"

Lewis nodded. "Would you?"

Monkey stood up, shoving the cigarettes and lighter into his pocket.

"Tomorrow's another day, full of bright promises of fucking you straight in the ass," Monkey rumbled, grabbing the whiskey bottle and the mostly empty six-pack that the empty bottles had been shoved back into.

"Ant said we're going to Atlas, I'll get some sleep in the back of the Gypsy Wagon," Lewis laughed. She wobbled a bit, got her balance back, and followed Monkey into the Near Stairwell.

"You're doing fine here, Berserker," Monkey rumbled as they moved down the stairs. A low moan wound down the hallway in front of them, raising goosebumps on Lewis's skin as the big NCO kept talking. "You've made a difference here. Saved people."

He stopped at the door to Titty Territory and looked down at her.

"Don't let anyone tell you that you don't matter, Berserker," he rumbled. "My brother, he would have been on that trailer, trying to move the pallets, if it wasn't for you. He'd be dead."

He pushed open the door.

"I, for one, am glad you were here."