He finds her in the gym - though granted it's the first place he looks. Despite the lateness of the hour, he knows she'll be wanting to work off the head of steam every one of them had built up during the course of the night.

She's currently giving a punch bag hell, the heavy object swinging violently with every hit. He imagines she's picturing the face of every damn one of the bastards who attacked the colony tonight, the ones he forced her not to engage. Making his mind up without much of a second thought for his wound, he walks past her quietly and grabs the bag, holding it as a steady target for her.

She continues to go at it without acknowledging his presence for a good five minutes, several of her hits strong enough to make him stumble backwards if he hadn't got a good footing. He carefully places his body so that he is at a slight angle to her and can watch her face as she pummels the bag.

"I wish you'd let me at them tonight." She admits eventually, following her words with two quick jabs.

"I know." He says, surprising her enough to break her rhythm. "But I needed you by the fence. Wouldn't trust anyone more."

She nods, ponytail jumping erratically as she bounces on the balls of her feet a few times. "You meant what you said to Mira last time, right?" She asks, hopeful. It's a testament of her hatred of the Sixers that she wishes for war, despite the atrocities they both saw committed during their time in the middle of one.

"Of course. And you're first in line, Wash."

"After you." She corrects, catching his eye for the first time.

He smiles gently at her. "Next to me."

A few more punches follow his words (the resolve in her eyes is even greater now) before she decides to call it a night. They walk over to the water cooler together and Taylor helps her remove her hand wraps without comment.

"Not sure you'd have envied me if you were there. Should have seen the size of one of them." He adds as they settle on one of the benches, closer together than propriety or regulations suggest they should ever be.

"Doesn't bother me." She says with a wicked smile. "They just fall harder in the end."

He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I should have known you'd say that. Think he'd have been more scared of you anyway."

"You know, I hear they cut straight through plate glass very well." She says conversationally, watching his face carefully for his reaction.

He looks mischievous, despite the fact that she knows how much he hates mindless destruction of the colony. "You spoke to Malcolm?"

"I did, but I didn't need to. You could hear his reaction as he walked in from the gate."

He laughs again, but it's cut off abruptly as he winces and presses a hand to his shoulder.

"You okay?" She asks, concern written all over her face.

He shrugs away her worry but she saw where his hand landed and tentatively reaches out to touch the area. When she pulls back her hand, fingertips covered in his blood, her concern turns to anger. "What happened?" She demands.

"One of the men stealing the box had a crossbow. Caught me with a bolt as I walked in."

"You got hit with a bolt?" She repeats and he nods. "To your shoulder." She adds and he nods again. She throws up her arms in frustration. "And you still helped me out with the bag! I can't believe you."

He looks more than a little amused at her horror and it's all she can do not to punch his other shoulder to make that one hurt as well. More, in fact. They both know she could do that.

"You need to go get that looked at." She says and her tone brooks no arguments.

"In the morning, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are, you're still bleeding. Go to the hospital or I'll fix it with what I have here. No pain meds."

"Fine, fine." He says with a wry smile, standing and starting for the door. "What would I do without you Wash?"

"Bleed to death sir." Alicia replies with certainty.

"No doubt, no doubt." He says, shaking his head. "See you tomorrow Wash."