Captain Callan opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He mentally debated with himself as to whether or not he wanted to actually answer the phone. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and glanced at the digital clock. Just past midnight and his phone was ringing, that was never a good sign. He grabbed the phone and fell back on the pillow.

"Hello?" He rubbed his eyes. He'd just come off of a thirty six hour mission- whoever was calling him better have a damn good reason. His face contorted as he frowned staring at the ceiling. The exhaustion left his body, the need for sleep was gone- fear and anger pushed any emotions to the background. "I'll be right there." The phone was lost in the sheets as he jumped out of the bed. He tore a pair of sweatpants form his drawer and slipped them up over his boxers. A white undershirt and his boots quickly finished his hastily thrown together outfit- almost. He stopped as dug his cell phone from the sheets. He looked at his night stand as he buried the phone in his pocket. Against, his better judgment he flung the bottom drawer open. He grabbed the glock and checked the magazine, before grabbing the holster and shouldering it.

It was the middle of winter so his being out at midnight with a heavy denim jacket would arouse suspicions. He walked into the garage and grabbed a set of keys from the keep box. He needed something with speed but not something that was going to draw attention. Six wouldn't mind- he never used the damn bike anyway. Callan started up the ninja and gave it a few good revs before pulling the helmet on.

Like a bat out of hell, he spun the bike around and gunned it out of the garage leaving a trail of rubber behind him.

The desert flew by him in streaks of darkness as the night air bit into the small bits of exposed skin he hadn't managed to cover up. The more he thought the madder he got and the madder he became the harder his hand gripped and turned the handle. The city was deserted as he broke the city limits at ninety eight mph.

He slowed down slightly- he couldn't risk getting pulled over. He wound his way through the city making his way to an apartment complex in the upper part of town. His eyes narrowed as he made out a figure sitting on the steps. He jerked the bike into park along the curb and tore the helmet off. Concern filled him- the anger being pushed by the way side- as he recognized Holiday bent over on the stoop her head buried in her hands.

"Claire?" His voice trembled as he got closer to her. "Are you alright?" He knelt down in front of her- glancing around out of a force of habit. He could see her body trembling as she cried into her hands. He narrowed his eyes and reached out putting a hand on her shoulder. "Claire?"

He was taken off guard as the doctor propelled herself towards him wrapping her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off balance. She buried her head in his chest and cried. He fought back the urge to growl as he looked up to the second floor apartment.

"What happened?" He asked after he was certain that his voice wouldn't come out sounding as mad as he was. She shook her head and rested her cheek against his chest so that she could talk.

"Just a stupid argument."

"Just a stupid argument that caused you to call me in the middle of the night." He said and leaned back so that he could look at her. She turned her head back into his chest and he felt his blood run cold. "Claire…look at me." He said. Hesitantly, she allowed him to pull away from her yet she didn't willingly look up at him. He brought his hand up and tilted her chin upwards. His entire body lit on fire as moved his thumb up to brush over an obviously busted lip. He stood up, pulling her up with him, and turned her heat slightly. A bruise was starting to form under her eye.

"What happened?" He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice that time. She took a deep breath and shivered.

"It started with a disagreement. I told him I wasn't happy." She said hugging herself against the cold of the night.

"He hit you?" It was the question he wanted an answer to. He didn't care what the argument was about or what started it. When she diverted her eyes, he felt the rage coil in his gut.

"Goddammit." The word escaped his mouth before he could catch it. He looked up at the apartment window- the light still shining in. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked back down at her. "Stay here." He said, his hand slipping inside of his coat. He pulled the glock from its holster. His blue eyes locked on her green ones and the rage burning in his stomach intensified.

He pushed the gun into her hand and turned walking up the stairs. The complex was quiet and the walk up the stairs did nothing to calm his anger as he hoped it would have. He stopped at the door and allowed himself to take a deep breath-forcing himself to count to ten before he knocked- or rather attempted to break- on the door. A muffled curse and a shout telling him the door was open was all that answered him. He threw the door opened and walked in, his fists clenched at his side.

Callan's eyes settled on the man Claire Holiday had been dating for almost two years. He blinked. The man was holding a bag of frozen peas to his nose.

"Aaht oo ou ant" Callan grinned as the man spoke in a nasally tone that signified nothing besides a broken nose.

"You think you are a big man to hit a woman." His grin turned to a snarl as the man stood up. He pulled dropped the bag and glared at the captain- his face several different shades of purple.

"What is it to you? That bitch deserved it." Callan's head cocked to the side at the name the man chose to call Holiday. He shook his head and took two steps closing the distance between them- looking down at the man.

"You don't even think of touching her again. You don't call her, you don't look at her, you don't contact her. If you so much as sneeze in the same time zone as her I will break you in half." Callan growled- his voice low. The man glared up at the captain and shook his head.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" The man started to continue but before another word could escape his mouth he was thrown against the wall. Callan narrowed his eyes- the blue pools glinting with hatred.

"Try me." He gave the man's throat a good squeeze before tossing him to the ground. He turned and walked out- satisfied that the man was smart enough to leave Holiday alone. The captain stopped at the door and looked at her as she sat against the motorcycle. A grin crept across his face as he remembered the look on the man's broken face. She held her own…and her wits. She called him rather than Six because Six would have killed the man. Just flat out killed him.

The captain walked over and took the gun back from the doctor. There was another reason that she couldn't call Six. Callan holstered the gun and took her by the arm and pulled her into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her as she melted into him. She needed comforting. You can't be comforted by a stone wall.

"He's not worth it." Holiday said, finally tired of crying. Callan nodded and pulled away for her. He handed her the helmet as he slung his leg over the bike.

"He ain't worth you." He said as she pulled the helmet on. She shot him a quick grin and climbed on the back- her arms wrapping around his waist as he started it up.

"You're the best, Austin." She said just as the bike started moving. He smiled and let the words get lost in the purr of the bike.

Credit for the Name Austin goes to: ShadowByebye