Cloak and Dagger

chapter eight

Two nights later, after giving my healed shoulder an extra day of rest, I was back in the training barn with Beckett, and he was back to his usual broody self.

"Come on," he said, standing behind me and egging me on, "keep it up. Punch harder and remember the combination."

My fists were moving in rapid succession as I repeated a training combination against one of the speed balls – working my upper body and muscle memory as I held my feet shoulder width apart. I'd gotten a hang of the rhythm quickly – right, right, left, left, repeat – but as my arms began to tire and sweat started to pile up in the gloves I wore, I gave the bag one last punch before taking a step back.

"Tired?" Beckett asked, crossing his arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow as I turned his way.

Shaking my head, I bent down to grab the water bottle I'd brought down with me. "Just needed some water," I replied, slowing down my breathing as I took long gulps, "but just wondering," I continued with curiosity, "are you purposefully giving me solo drills so that I won't have to fight you?"

It'd been nagging me for the last thirty minutes, as he'd moved me from one apparatus to another, that he was holding back because he knew that I'd hurt myself a few days back. I was fine – which I'd told him flat out when we'd started tonight, but from the way his shoulders tensed momentarily, it was clear he was treating me with precaution.

"I knew it," I said accusingly, before he could deny it, "you don't think I can handle it."

"It's not that – "

"I don't know what misconceived notion you have in your head, but I'm fine," I stressed, pulling off my gloves and dropping them to the floor as a stream of anger began to pulse through my veins. Walking with heavy footsteps towards the center of the room, I turned back to face Beckett with my hands on my hips. "So... are we going to train for real, or are you going to keep treating me like an invalid?"

His stubble-covered jaw twitched with annoyance, but he fought back against the wariness that filled his mind by stepping up onto the mat.

"Good choice," I said, limbering up as I shifted my weight from side to side.

Once he was about a foot away from me, I moved into my defensive stance, and when he did the same, I didn't waste a second before going on the attack. I punched my right fist forward, aiming for his chin, though it was easily dodged as he leaned back and awaited my next move. My next few punches came with similar results - him dodging expertly as I threw my all into trying to land a hit.

The anger within me built up with each hit that he successfully avoided, and a will to show him exactly what I could do washed over me.

Moving forward, I purposefully left my guard down as I swung a fist towards his face, and when he ducked, lightly tapping the opening I'd given him, I lifted my knee towards his stomach. However, my plan didn't work out quite as I'd hoped. Just as my knee met his ribcage, he grabbed a hold of my leg and pulled slightly, throwing me off balance and sending me hard down onto the mat.

The air whooshed out of my lungs and I struggled momentarily to regain my breath.

"Are you okay?" Beckett asked, leaning over me as he offered me a hand. Accepting the help, I managed to nod as I made my way back onto my own two feet, albeit rather wobbly. "Because if you're not, we can stop for the night."

"We don't need to stop," I wheezed, frustration seeping in as I drew in a breath and slowly released it, "I'm fine."

"Aspen," he said carefully, "you don't need to push yourself."