Now for something a little different. I realized when posting the Ninja Hunt fic that I'd never quite gotten around to posting this bit of writing. I wrote it as a plot bunny that evolved into more. Yep, it's MORE BeachHead, although there's a little bit of other Joes popping in and out, of course. BeachHead/CoverGirl, although it's more the 'early stages' and not a deep involved relationship or anything.

Most of the facts I researched, and some of the stuff is based on real life people's experiances, or on people that I know have similar reactions(or did have, etc). Reviews are welcomed, and yes I'm still writing on Vacation and all.. I just happen to have stumbled over this, and thought I'd toss it out and see if anyone enjoys it enough to post it.

All normal disclaimers apply, I don't have any rights to GI Joe, nor to any of the characters. I base my fics off mostly comic/cartoon canon, although I made some slight changes to suit myself. Please feel free to check out my other fics, some which are based more on Snake Eyes, some are based more on BeachHead. Those are my favorite two characters, which anyone reading my stuff will soon come to see!

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BeachHead groaned softly, holding his belly. He knew he shouldn't have had the gumbo in the messhall.. but he'd been too hungry and too tired to bother looking for something else to eat.

He straightened with an effort. For the first time in years, he forwent his morning 'jog', without a significant injury. Puking on the trail around the base wouldn't suit his reputation at all. Even if it was 0500 hours, someone somewhere would manage to see him, because that was his luck. Instead, he went to the infirmary to get some alka-seltzer to take. Lifeline was just arriving when he was quaffing the dose.

"Hey BeachHead.. what's wrong?" The medic seemed too cheerful for someone up as early as they were.

He growled at him. "Stomach acting up, probably because I gotta deal with a bunch of prissy boys instead of soldiers." He stalked out, pulling his balaclava mask on, and leaving a eye-rolling Lifeline behind him. By the time he got out onto the field, the first greenshirts were beginning to arrive, and he belched and spat to the side, watching them rush to form up.

"ALRIGHT MAGGOTS!!" He saw some wince, and noted which ones. "You been slouching around here long enough! Get yer butts on the ground and listen up!" They all looked surprised and sat quickly. The sight of all twenty greenies sitting cross-legged trying not to look confused made him grin under his mask. The more observant of them almost quivered when they saw it. There wasn't much of his face visible to catch his expressions, but the quick ones learned to identify his evil grins and angry looks just by his eyes. He'd considered wearing sunglasses, but discarded the idea as silly.

BeachHead began to run through a bit of battlefield strategy, outlining historical generals that had used various tactics. He noted a few troopers failing to pay attention and singled them out to repeat back facts to him. When they invariably failed, he yelled at those and made them do at least fifty push-ups per offense.

Once he was done with his short lesson, he suddenly roared at them to get up and run. He ran alongside the formation, verbally flaying anyone who failed to keep up. At random times, he would single out someone to ask them a question on his lesson. The first time someone got it wrong, he stopped in his tracks.

"HALT!! Since Miller doesn't remember the lesson, EVERYONE can drop and gimme fifty!! NOW NOW!" He stalked around them while they counted off the punishment. "Alright, what are you waiting for?! Get up! This run ain't over!" He pushed them along, and ran them until they began to stumble.

"Alright, get over to the obstacle course! MOVE IT!" They rushed over, forming up in his preferred squads of four. "First team.. go!" They sprinted at the first obstacle and he trotted to the end of the course, which curved around in a U shape. He used to have it on a straight line, but realized as he added the greenshirts to his routine training that he would easily run himself to death if he had to move down the entire course each time. He did enough of the course, checking on random individuals or problem troops. Running from the start line to the finish, even with his shortcut, was a workout in itself. Right now, it was torment as his gut started to ache again.

"Suck it up." He told himself. Gritting his teeth, he checked the timer and waited while the fourth man crossed the line.

"Sorry maggots!! I could do this faster on two broken legs!" He ran the quartet back to the start and sent the next four through. Before he could move back to the finish he overheard one mutter to the other...

"I wish I could give him the two broken legs.."

He spun on the hapless young man. "You wanna go? You wanna have a go at me? Let's go!" The greenie shook his head frantically. "What? Do you think you'll hurt old BeachHead? Think I'm too frail to be beaten up by a young tough guy?" Now near panic, the greenshirt shook his head and backed up.

He stuttered badly. "N-n-no Sergeant Major! I'm sorry Sergeant Major!"

BeachHead got within inches of his face. "Yew wanna make some smart comments bahind mah back.. yew better be fraggin' certain it's waaay bahind mah back! Yew got it?!" He got frantic nods in reply. "AH CAN'T HEAR YEW!"

He almost saw the guy wet himself. "YES SERGEANT MAJOR! YES SERGEANT MAJOR!!"

He snarled one last time. "Drop and gimme enough push-ups to make me happy!" The youngster dropped to the ground and began putting out push-ups frantically.

Moving back to the finish line, he found the quartet waiting nervously and ran them back to the start. His transgressor was still giving out push-ups and he ignored him to send the next group through. By the time the last ones were finishing the course, the Mouth was dripping with sweat and struggling to lift himself one last time, over and over. BeachHead walked over and stood there watching him. When he managed another shaky push-up, the sergeant put a foot in the center of his back and squashed him to the ground, and then stood on him to address the rest.

"Now. If I eveh hear another one of you maggots giving me disrespect like the Mouth here, I'll make you all WISH you could do his punishment." He shifted his weight onto the foot over the youngster's kidneys and heard a suitable groan. "DO.. I ... MAKE.. MYSELF... CLEAR!!?"

A terrified chorus of "YES SERGEANT MAJOR!!" rang out loudly, echoed feebly by Mouth under his boots. He stepped off, and gave a shove with one foot to him. "Get up! My greenshirts don't grovel in the dirt!"

Even though he was battered and shaken, the youngster got to his feet. "Yes Sergeant Major! Sorry Sergeant Major!"

"You're all due in hanger four in fifteen minutes.. get a move on! Dismissed!"

He watched them go, and absently rubbing his stomach. It was hurting again, and he tilted his jaw down, trying for a belch to make it feel better. Belching happened, but didn't help the aching pain. "Dang it." He wondered if he was coming down with a bug, and sighed. The last time he'd gotten the flu, it'd ended up being the most miserable week and a half ever. Between his wheezing and sinus pain, and the continual torment by several of the Joes, he'd been ready to kill someone, but too weak to actually do it.

"Yo BeachHead." Speaking of.. he turned and spotted the group of Joes headed out. Clutch headed up the pack, and he counted heads quickly. All ten were at least on time. Shipwreck sauntered up at the back, probably hoping to stay mostly unnoticed.

BeachHead took a deep breath and suddenly jerked in pain. He closed his eyes just for a second and then tightened his gut up. "Get to running you lazy dogs!" He pointed across the field. "To the fenceline and back, last man can drop and gimme fifty!" The pack sprinted off, and he took the few minutes to take some deep breaths. Another couple of hours out here, and he could take the afternoon to catch up on paperwork, maybe the rest would help his stomach.

The first Joes started to arrive back, and he glared at them, back in control of himself. He wasn't about to vomit in front of his fellow Joes. LadyJaye was one of the front runners.

She took a look at the sergeant. "Hey.. BeachHead.. you okay?"

He snarled at her. "I'm just fine Princess. Are you doing fine? You must be if you're feeling up to exchanging pleasantries. How would you like to make that run a second time?"

"No drill sergeant!" He thought he saw her smiling a little, but he let it slide. The Joe's were more prickly than the greenshirts, and he didn't push them nearly as badly as the recruits. They did harder work, and more training, but he eased off on the screaming and abuse. The Joe's were already past the level of the best greenshirt, but that didn't stop him from pushing them to get even better.

"Wetsuit, drop and gimme those fifty! You could have been a front runner and you were just lazing out there! I should make you gimme a hundred fer being lazy!" He walked away as the diver began his punishment, taking deeper breaths and swallowing a few times. He saw LadyJaye looking at him and gave her a glare.

"Get formed up, ranks of four, first group out." He waved them to start and turned to jog slowly to the finish line. By the time they'd clambered through the advanced course, the worst of the nausea had passed. "Decent.. you can do better." Back to the start and he glared at Wetsuit.

"You can go through with this group.. then again when it's your turn. Run some of that lazy outa you." He watched the diver slump a little bit, but a Navy SEAL wouldn't complain, and he took off with the group. TunnelRat yelped when he passed him on the flat upright wall.

"Hey!! Outa my way Flipper!"

BeachHead ignored the bantering on the course normally, but now it irritated him. "SHUT YER YAP, Tunnelrat!! Get yer butt in gear! NOW!" He turned to head for the finish and a wave of dizziness hit him. Suddenly he couldn't catch his breath and staggered.

He heard a few voices nearby. "Beach? Hey dude.." "Is he okay?" "BeachHead?" He straightened and started to turn to yell at them to get back on the course and everything went dark.

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Shipwreck was watching the sergeant when he suddenly staggered. "Yo.. BeachHead.. " He stared when the fittest man he'd ever met fell over in a limp heap. "BeachHead?!" He rushed over with half a dozen other Joes.

Expecting to be met by cursing, he was unnerved when he arrived at his side to find him completely unconscious. "LadyJaye!! Come here!! Beach is down!"

Wetsuit ran up, having seen the commotion, he'd come from the middle of the course. "Holy jeez... we finally gave BeachHead an aneurysm!"

LadyJaye punched him in the arm. "Shut it! Make yourself useful! Go get a medic! Who here has a communicator? Anyone?" Negative replies made her curse. "Wetsuit! RUN!" The SEAL took off sprinting for the Pit entrance.

Shipwreck was bent over the prone form. "Hey.. Beach.. come on.. can you hear me? Jaye.. he's breathing.. but he's awful hot." She reached to turn him onto his back carefully. Shipwreck helped ease the limp body over. "He's really out. He just flopped over all of a sudden, it's crazy."

Jaye pressed fingers to his wrist. "Pulse seems fast.. where is that SEAL?" She peeled the mask off. "He's covered in cold sweat.. he could be having a heart attack.." She looked up. "Someone go find out why a medic isn't here yet!" Several turned but stopped.

Clutch pointed. "Lifeline's on his way." Soon enough the red-jumpsuited figure ran up, hauling a medical pack.

He was gasping for breath but dropped the bag and looked at LadyJaye. "What's his status? Shipwreck, open my bag, get the stethoscope out, then get the portable EKG." He peeled an eyelid open and fished a tiny flashlight out to peer at the unfocused brown eyes.

LadyJaye shook her head. "He just collapsed, but he didn't look good when we got here. He looked pale, and I think he was in pain, but he just yelled at me when I asked.. he's clammy and sweaty, totally unresponsive."

Lifeline took the stethoscope and nodded at her. "Help Ship get the EKG set up, it's simple." He bent to listen. "Get my BP cuff..." She dug it out and he took it. "BeachHead.. hey! Hey!"

The sergeant didn't respond, and Lifeline continued checking him. Finally he looked around. "Get a stretcher.." He reached up and triggered his headset. "Doc, you read me? This is Lifeline.. emergency on surface level, obstacle course, single patient."

Doc's voice came back. "Infirmary, read you, stats."

Lifeline rattled off vital statistics quickly. "Possible cardiac.. checking trauma.." He looked at Shipwreck and clicked the mic off. "He didn't get hit.. kicked? Didn't fall?"

Shipwreck looked startled. "No, no. As far as I know.. we'd need to ask the greenshirts if anything happened before.. but he just fell over, boom! No one touched him."

The medic looked grim. "Jaye, go find one of them, find out." He undid the straps on the tactical vest and pulled the frontpiece loose. Drawing out a set of stubby scissors from a pocket, he sliced open the thick shirt. Pressing on the taut stomach, he frowned. Clicking the mic back on, he spoke quickly. "Doc, he's got a hot belly, tight, swollen.. he's running a fever, cold sweats.." He turned as Clutch arrived with the stretcher. "We're transporting."

Once they got him settled into the Stokes litter, four of them took the corners and lifted it carefully. Lifeline grabbed up his bag and directed them to the Pit. Shipwreck hefted his corner and shook his head, looking down at still face they carried.

"I never thought BeachHead would go down.. did we finally give him a heart attack? Ace used to joke about a betting pool on how long 'fore one'a us made him have a stroke out here."

Lifeline shook his head. "I dunno 'wreck. I hope not."

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End Chapter:

Hope you enjoyed.. what's wrong? Guesses? That was the introduction to the Mouth(one of my recurring greenshirt characters). Back to the typing on fics!