Fight me

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I wake up before both Ryan and Jenny, and I quietly wander out to the kitchen.
I pour myself some cereal and sit down at the table.

It is hard trying to eat because I'm constantly yawning.
I get ready and leave for the precinct, noticing that it's not even six.
As I walk down the street, I am able to watch the sun rise, and the rays bounce off of the glass buildings.
On this walk, I notice all the little things I haven't before.
I notice the rocks on the side of the road and the flowers with pretty petals.
The picture of life is ugly, until you look at the details.
I realize how true this is, and how easily it applies to my life.
Everything in my life that could go wrong, has. Yet there are things in my life that are beautiful.
I have a family. I have Ryan, and Jenny, and Beckett, and Castle, and Esposito, and Lanie, and Alexis, and Martha.
I am able to see things people would die to see.
I live in New York! People save money for years to be able to travel here, and I can live it every day.

I have a hard time accepting good moments though.
Before my family died and good things happened, it would always be followed by something bad.
When good things happened, I would tell myself, "just wait. Its too good to be true. Soon, this moment will end."

I was always right.

The rest of the way to the precinct I find myself looking at everything I've seen before, but noticing what I haven't.

I am afraid the team will treat me differently after what happened.
I don't want them to think I can't handle anything.

I take my time and wander around, taking the longest route possible so I don't get there super early.

I step inside and wait for the team to bombard me.
When they do, they wear sad faces.
I try to brush them off.
Although I love them all, I hate how sympathetic they are.

I smile at them, but when they turn their backs on me I make my way to the workout room.
I have only used it once or twice, and it always makes me feel better.
I keep a change of clothes in one of the lockers, so I change into athletic shorts and long sleeved black Underarmour.
I pull on boxing gloves as I approach the punching bag.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, blocking out all the sounds.
I channel all my anger into my fists, and I open my eyes as the bag transforms into the people I hate the most.
Elizabeth, Brandon, and the man who tortured me all take turns appearing in front of me.

I swing, hard.
My fist lands with a satisfying thump! against the hard material.

I hit it, over and over again.
I am dripping sweat and breathing like someone who just ran a marathon.
The bag is moving all over the place with the force of my blows.

I don't even notice Ryan walked in until he starts talking.

"You want me to steady the bag for you?"
I'm panting, but still manage to answer.

"Fight me."

"What?"

"I want you to fight me. Teach me how to fight better."

"I can't-"

"Ryan you're a cop. The academy trains you, I know that. Please."

He looks torn.

"Fine. I'll teach you."

I smile.
I wait as he changes, and he comes back wearing basketball shorts and top.

He shows me how to hold my hands, in front of my face, and how I need to look intimidating.
If people think I'm better at fighting than I am, chances are they won't go after me.
He lets me practice with the punching bag and corrects my little mistakes.

After a few hours, I am already very much improved.

"Ok, I'm ready. Ryan can you fight me?"

He laughs. "If you think I'm fighting you, you're funny. There's no way."

"Ryan, I want-"

"I can't hit you. I'm sorry."

The door behind us opens, and a buff guy walks in.
I look at Ryan, and he looks at me.
I smile deviously, and he knows what I'm thinking.

"No!" He mouths and makes a cutting motion across his throat telling me to stop.

I ignore him.

"Excuse me sir?"

The man turns around and Ryan throws his hands in the air.

"Yes?"

"Will you fight me?"

I thought Ryan was laughing hard. This dude is cracking up.
He thinks I'm kidding.

"Fine."
I start to turn away, pretending like I'm going to leave, but in one swift motion I swing wide and land a hard one on his shoulder.

The sound echoes through the room, and Ryan slaps the palm of his hand against his forehead.

The man looks at me now, surprised.

"You can pack a wallop little girl. What's your name?" He asks with a slight accent.

"Ross. What's yours?"

"Lorenzo."

Oh, now his accent makes sense. He's Italian.

"Come stai?" I ask in Italian, wondering if he speaks the language like I do.

His surprise turns to shock as he answers, "sto bene. E tu?"

I smile wider than I have in months.
Finally someone who speaks Italian.
He smiles as well.

"Ok. I will fight you. Let's go."

He jerks his head towards the mat, and we both step on.

Ryan grabs my shoulder.
"Ross, are you sure you should be doing this?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Trust me."

He looks skeptical.
"Ok. But I'm staying just in case."

I turn my attention back towards Lorenzo.

"Ready?"

"Just go."

We circle each other a few times before he aims a punch at my shoulder to throw me off balance.

I dodge it easily, my size allows me to move quickly around him.
I jab left and hit him square in the chest, and he staggers backward.

He catches himself and comes at me again.
This time I can't dodge him, and he hits me in the stomach.

It knocks the wind out of me, and I can't breathe.

He bends down to help me, but I'm not giving up that easily.
I take his hand and pull myself up, but don't let go.
I twist his arm behind his back and kick him in the back of the knee.

He goes down and I place my knee on his back, still holding his arm.

With his free hand he hits the mat, letting me know he's done.
I let him up, and the room fills with applause.
I look around and several other officers are there watching, including my team.

Lorenzo holds out his hand for me to shake.
I do, and smile. He does too.

"You got some moves kid. Good job."

"Grazie."

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