On Her Majesty's Secret Service ~ H.S.

Chapter 14

A harsh jab to my shoulder wakes me the next morning. I shoot up instantly, fist already clenched tightly around my small knife, glancing around wildly.

The lights around me are still off. The dorm is silent and everyone asleep. A large figure, unidentifiable in the dark, stands over my bed watching me.

"Calm down, would you?" I hear someone whisper in irritation, and immediately my guard lowers. I'm in no danger. I would know that snotty tone anywhere.

"What do you want?" I ask grudgingly, my eyes drooping with the weight of my drowsiness.

"Time to fight. Meet me in the sports hall. 5 minutes." Harry notifies me before walking away through the dark dorm. I'm left alone among a crowd of sleeping recruits.

I so badly want to fall back asleep and ignore Harry, but I know I have to get up. This opportunity- to learn how to fight- cannot be shrugged aside. If I want to become an agent, I have to improve my combat skills, and this is the way to do it.

So, with a long sigh, I swing my knees over the edge of my bed and prepare myself to stand. Once the thick wool covers of my cot have fallen away, I begin to shiver. I guess wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts to bed wasn't the best idea.

When I'm able to rub the sleep from my eyes and stand properly, I rummage through my bag and pull out as many layers as I can- I'm freezing. After a heavy pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sweater have been put on, I head for the sports hall.

I walk in and find that only one light is on in the entire gym. The boxing ring is illuminated, but nothing else. Of course the darkness doesn't help with the cold and I rub my hands together to keep warm. As I approach, I find that Harry leans nonchalantly against the ropes enclosing the ring, looking at nothing in particular.

I don't announce my presence and simply step through the ropes and onto the mat. I stay to the opposite side of the ring. I don't want to be any closer to Harry than I need to.

Last night, admittedly, we did work rather well together. I haven't forgotten his sudden kindness as he urged me to skydive, and I certainly haven't forgotten the fact that he saved my life. However, if I know Harry, and I'm sure I've spent enough time with him by now to know, his kindness will not last. If this morning he isn't back to his usual asshole-ish tendencies, it'll be clear something is seriously wrong.

As I stand across from him in the dim light, he eyes me up and down. I don't miss the air of judgement in his posture. There's the Harry I know.

"What are you wearing?" He questions. I look down and examine my attire.

"Clothes."

"A jumper and sweatpants?"

"I'm freezing."

Harry shakes his head and I see a smirk start to invade his features.

"Won't work."

"What won't work?" I ask incredulously. What the hell is he on about? I thought I was roused at 4 in the morning to learn how to fight, not to be judged by the fashion police.

"You're clothes. They're too heavy. You've got too much on." Harry states, as confident as ever, crossing his arms and holding his chin up high.

"I'm cold, sue me."

"You can't fight like that." Harry asserts once again. I roll my eyes.

"Why not?"

"They'll weigh you down. You won't be able to move quickly enough." Harry explains. I don't want to admit it, but I know he's right.