Punching Bag

Chapter Four-Doctor, Doctor

Chapter Four

Doctor, Doctor

"Again." Steve requests and I huff, feeling the ache in my limbs. We'd been exercising for over two hours. When we got back I instantly changed and met him in the gym to start training. First there were the stealth crawls, the spy rolls, and flexibility tests. Then came the high kicks, the squats, and the endurance. We've just finished practicing my punches and keeping my hands up and have moved onto one on one contact. He's trying to get me to land a punch on him, but so far, no luck. 

I grind my teeth and go back into my stance, raising my fists in front of my face. Steve just stands in front of me, relaxed. It's infuriating. I take a breath and swing as I exhale, like Steve showed me. Steve steps out of the way easily and I stomp in frustration. I throw my fists out faster and harder, still trying to land a single punch on him. "Channel the anger. Don't loose control." He says firmly in his damn calm voice. I grind my teeth again and continue my assault, now throwing in kicks when I can. He catches or dodges every move.

"Ugh!" I ground out, stopping. "I haven't even nicked you!" I say, more than a little frustrated.

"That's okay." He assures me with gentle eyes as I tangle my hands in my hair, pulling on it in irritation. "Jo, I've been fighting for years and this is only your first training lesson. Give yourself a break."

"No breaks." I snap and resume my fighting stance.

"Hold on, ki-Jo." He sighs as he looks at me, surveying me. "What if we work on using your abilities for a while? You'll need to learn to control those too." After a moment I drop my fists and nod. "Good. Sit down for a minute and I'll get us some water. Remember, breathe in through the nose and out of your mouth." He instructs and hops off the stage, jogging to the fridge in the corner. 

I wipe my forehead and tighten my ponytail before I sit down in the middle of the ring. As I rest my elbow on my knee and my chin on my hand, Steve comes over and sits down in front of me. He unscrews my water and sets it in front of me, then drinks his own. Sighing, I down the entire bottle.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Steve? I don't even know how I work." I point out, too tired to use proper language. He half-smiles and shrugs.

"I'm ready." He holds out his hand to me and I stare at it.

"What should I do? Heal some part of you? Read a certain memory, emotion?" I ask, my mind whirring with the possibilities and dangers. Steve laughs, his blue eyes much wider and more awake than mine.

"How about we just see what happens. Just take my hand and talk me through what you're seeing and feeling." He says in a very therapy-like way. Anxiety fills me and I put my hand on Steve's before I can change my mind. My grip instantly tightens on his when he grasps mine and I start feeling things. "Remember to talk me through things. What's happening?" He asks me, but his voice is a bit fuzzy. My eyes shut so my mind stops battling with what I'm seeing and that clears up some of the fuzz.

"I can feel your strength. The power coursing through your limbs feels like it's in mine as well." I say, but my lips don't move.

"Wait. I can hear you inside my head, but not by hearing." He says and my head aches a little from the assault of him thinking the words and saying them.

"Try just talking in your head," I tell him through thought. Strangely, it feels natural; as if my brain is releasing a pent-up breath every time I speak.

"Alright. Can you hear me this way?" He says and it's much better. Funnily enough, his inside voice is the same as his outside voice, although I suppose that isn't that surprising.