Skeletons In The Closet

[Jack Lexington]

Outside the air was still very cold but not cold enough for the snow to stay. It had mostly melted away and turned to slush. Here and there a bit of green was visible.
Today the sun was out warming our skin slightly.

I'm getting quite thrilled by the anticipation of sparring with Brody again after such a long time. Our spars were crazy and rough but today I will dial down my moves to comfort him.


"Alright coach. You're in charge this time, what's first?" I can see my friend feels the same way as he is grinning at me rather than that sad face I've seen for weeks.
"Let's warm up- come on- a few laps around the yard, then we do a bit of shadow boxing, then maybe we can spar."
I start jogging around the back yard through the slush, which instantly soaks my shoes, at an easy pace. Together we circle around until we're ready to take our jackets off and throw a few punches at noone in particular to warm up our muscles. My shoulders are already pretty sore from all the push ups and chin ups I've done today.
I try to keep a good, fast rhythm going and occassionally look over to see how Brody is doing.
It's hard to believe how much his physique has changed. part of it might be his attitude, too. I got to know this overly confident, young soldier, who would not take crap from anyone- on the contrary, over and over he put me and the rest of the cadets in our place. Now I see our average guy, who's not to sure of himself anymore. He's only a shadow of the guy he used to be - all thanks to Jins. If he wasn't dead already I would need to make sure he feels the same way Brody does. He's dead though - thanks to me and I still don't know whether that's a good thing. Even though i know how much pain and mystery he caused my friends I still feel like I should have just shot him in the stomach. My gaze darkens as I throw my punches at my invisible enemy and picture it to be him.

[Artemis]

The mud from the melting snow soaking through his shoes didn't bother Brody in the slightest as he ran behind Matthew; after being cooped up in the house for the better part of the past few months, let alone being disallowed from anything particularly physical, being outside where the air was cold and clear and smelled of the onset of spring satisfied him on a level he didn't adequately know how to describe.

The movement of raising his fists and throwing jabs and crosses as they ran came back like a reflex; Brody hadn't lost much of his speed, but he was absolutely certain he had a lot of work in front of him to regain the power that had taken him so far at the Olympics.

Between Matthew's damaged lung and Brody's extended inactivity, their respective cardio was more or less on the same level now; he could hear his own pulse in his ears when they finally stopped, none too pleased at how quickly he was tiring but his mood lifted considerably to simply be moving.

His shoes were thoroughly soaked through as they stopped, though Brody opted to keep his jacket on; until he built his physique back up, he didn't have the resistance to cold that he used to.

Brody hadn't brought any equipment in anticipation of getting in any boxing practice, though he made a mental note to borrow some of Nolan's practice pads; he doubted his old man would mind letting Matthew take over his son's training for a while, at least until he looked (and acted) a bit more like himself. Matthew was practically family by this point in any case, and there was no one either of his parents trusted more than family with their son... They didn't necessarily have to know how that came about, even though Brody was sure that they had put 2 and 2 together by now to figure out why they had stayed friends even after Matthew had dropped out of the running to be a Peacekeeper.

"So, at what point did you wanna tie your hands behind your back?" Brody smirked.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

"So, at what point did you wanna tie your hands behind your back?" Brody words tear me out of my daze.
"What?" It takes me a moment to put two and two together and figure out he's referring to my joke.
"Not now, man." I tell him and stop my motions for a moment.
Both of us have warmed up and are breathing heavily due to different circumstances.

"Let me grab my pads from the shed. Wait here."
I jog over to the old, small shed with a large gaping hole in the roof, which is situated at the other side of the overgrown property. It still has a good part where I keep some dry wood but also the stuff I used to use for training when I was younger. Now I have better equipment at my fathers place and the training center.
I don't have any wraps or gloves but the old pads are still there.

With it in my hands I return to Brody and start circling him. "Go easy. Just a few punches to get your muscles used to the idea again."
While I dance around him back and forth I hold up the bad so he can try to hit it.
"Alternatively we can have a cup of tea inside and do a few press ups and stuff if you're getting too cold out here."
We're both sweating and radiating heat but the wind blowing around the corner of the house is still very cold and strong making this much less fun than it could be.
Maybe Brody wants to take it easy after his injury.

[Artemis]

Matthew returned from the old woodshed with a pair of well-worn practice pads under his arm, sliding them on his hands as he started to circle Brody. Even without prompting, Brody shifted his stance to keep Matthew in his peripheral, hands up on the defense like a second nature.

Nevermind that having anyone, even someone he trusted like Matthew, had a tendency to make him nervous.

"Go easy. Just a few punches to get your muscles used to the idea again."

Brody smirked, shifting forward and batting Matthew's gloves with a light but swift one-two jab and cross. It would take more than a few months for him to forget how to fight; Nolan had started him young, boxing came back to him almost as naturally as breathing.

"I'm not a total beginner," He smirked, circling Matthew in turn.

But, then, Brody's impatience had been the bane of his physical therapists' job (plural, he'd pissed off two before getting one that didn't take any of his crap) ever since he'd come into their care.

His speed had fallen somewhat, probably a side effect of his reduced strength, but the moves were so familiar it was almost comforting; Brody's weight shifted to the balls of his feet, slightly hampered with the soft mud giving beneath his weight, dancing around throwing quick, glancing punches and slipping and ducking the ones Matthew threw back at him.

"Alternatively we can have a cup of tea inside and do a few press ups and stuff if you're getting too cold out here." Matthew suggested.

"Getting tired already?" Brody huffed, despite being a little out of breath himself. "I've been cooped up inside for months, I don't wanna go inside any sooner than I have to."

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

The jabs that Brody throws at my pads are well aim but with little force behind it, just like I asked him to. I sidestep to the left and right to make him adjust to my position when he claims:

"I'm not a total beginner.”
“I know.” I let him know. The well paced breathing rhythm and technique would give it away if I didn’t already know it.
Occassionally I duck away making it a little harder for him to hit his target. Mine aren’t aimed to actually hit him but he dodges them anyway.
My suggestion to go inside is quickly shot down even though the cold wind is making it harder to stay warm even though we’re moving quicker now. My body can’t produce enough heat without kicking my work out up a notch.
"Getting tired already? I've been cooped up inside for months, I don't wanna go inside any sooner than I have to."
“Yeah, that must have sucked.” I tell him because I’ve already had a hard time handling a three week break. Three months or however long it was are unthinkable.
My feet occasionally slip on the slush and one time I actually get a slight punch on my shoulder because I’m trying to regain my balance while Brody is aiming for my left pad.
Thanks to his ‘weak’ state it doesn’t hurt and certainly won’t leave a bruise.
I’m just about done after 15 minutes of this because I’m getting tired and cold. Either I’ll kick it up a notch or quit. Since he doesn’t want to quit I hand him the pads so I can do a bit of a work out as well. I aim an ungloved punch at him that comes a little too fast. Hopefully his reactions are cat like.

[Artemis]

Where Matthew had been nerve-grindingly hesitant in the wake of his own traumatizing injury at Jins' hands, Brody was impatient and wavered between overcautious and outright reckless. But being outside after so many months cooped up inside --like a fragile vase enclosed in a hutch where it couldn't accidentally be broken--, he was more than a little distracted from the restless anxiety that had lurked at the back of his mind since he'd been weaned off the cocktail of drugs the hospital had kept it at bay with.

Until it was Matthew's turn to shadow box at Brody, coming in with a punch just a little too fast, a little too much force, getting well into his personal space--

Brody clenched his teeth around a pained yell as his hands moved defensively to the stabbing pain in his chest, the boot to his ribs feeling like a sledgehammer knocking the wind out of him and sending a sickening crack reverberating throughout his entire body. He staggered back into the wall, trying desperately to catch his breath.

His ribs were definitely broken.

The pain radiated out from the sharp points in his chest, and suddenly Brody couldn't breathe, couldn't seem to get enough air--

He didn't know how much time had passed when Brody realized he'd backed away from Matthew, hands up defensively and feeling a dull, phantom pain where his ribs had long since mended.

Brody had to consciously remind himself that the fight with Jins was long since over.

"I need a minute..."

He turned and nearly staggered to the woodshed, rounding the side where he would be out of sight and leaning on his hands against the wall, forcing himself to use the breathing techniques they'd drilled into his head in therapy. Brody's eyes followed the grains of the rough, warped wood, trying to think of only his breathing and calming the pulse hammering in his ears.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

At first I think I got Brody but my punch was more of a tap than anything else. Yet he grimaces and backs away as if I had kicked him in the chest with all my might. I furrow my brow in confusion waiting for him to regain his composure. Maybe his injury is still super sensitive but my fist came nowhere close to his abdomen.

I can see his hand block me even though I stand down and down attack anymore. What's going on?

Brody's blue eyes finally settle on my face as his own relaxed a little and he tells me that he needs a minute and turns away from me to stagger away on shaky legs.
"What the...?" I'm more than confused and follow him as quickly I can drop the pas on my way.
"What's wrong, Brody? Did I hurt you?"

I can see him breath in through the nose, out through the mouth...not even looking at me so I place my hand on my friends back letting him know I mean no harm. It looks an aweful lot to me like he's far from ready.

"Maybe your father was right. Maybe you need a little more time. Anxiety attack?"
I have a pretty good idea what that feels like- being under water and feeling attacked to a point where you can't breathe? Yep, sounds familiar. Maybe Brody is experiencing something along those lines.
"You'll be fine, mate. Just give yourself some time." I drop my hand from his back leaning my shoulder against the wood of the shed towait for him.

[Artemis]

Brody didn't hear a word Matthew was saying as he retreated behind the woodshed, only fully realizing Matthew had followed him when his hand rested on his back; he didn't flinch this time, at least, feeling like himself enough to recognize the voice talking to him as belonging to his friend.

Not Jins taunting him. Not Kyanite screaming for help.

Matthew. His best friend.

"Maybe your father was right. Maybe you need a little more time. Anxiety attack?"

Brody's shoulders tensed, closing his eyes as if the statement physically burned him; he hated this, feeling like he had finally made progress only to slide back as many steps as he'd come over something as once-innocuous as shadow boxing with someone he trusted. It figured that Nolan was right, though. Patience wasn't one of the things Brody had inherited from his father, it seemed.

But... three months. That already felt like an eternity to spend recovering, and it seemed like he'd barely even scratched the surface.

"You'll be fine, mate." Matthew said, letting his hand drop from Brody's back, "Just give yourself some time."

He sighed heavily, taking a long minute before his shoulders could relax; the only thing worse than how sorry Brody felt for himself that this was the state he was in, was facing others who knew how damaged he was and seeing the pity in their eyes.

Like he was irreparably broken.

Brody didn't look up, forehead rested on the wood in front of him.

"I've already given myself so much time," He said lowly, "I'm tired of waiting."

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

He's visibly relaxing under my touch- be it my hand on his back or that he removed himself from the situation, which I can only assume put him in something too similar to what happened. I know exactly actually. I don't have to assume. Once you've been there you can see when others go to that dark spot.

He can't look at me but he can still put up a little fight- he wouldn't be the Brody I know if he didn't. "I've already given myself so much time. I'm tired of waiting."

I just shrug because he's not watching anyway.
"It's about time you pull that pretty head of yours out of your arse anyway."
He kicked my butt into shape the hard way and I'm not about to let him off the hook that easily.
"When I said give yourself some time I didn't mean with training, I meant give yourself time to feel the way you did before. I think physically you're able to get back into shape. Correct me if I'm wrong. Now you need to slowly readjust your head and that's not going to happen by sitting on the couch or talking to shrinks. Throw yourself in that water and cope. Trust me- I can handle you."
He referred to the very same thing his friend did to him knowing he would understand.

His hand gave Brody a gentle tap on the arm before he urged him to follow him back to the yard.
"You're not done."

[Artemis]

"It's about time you pull that pretty head of yours out of your arse anyway."

Brody snorted.

"You coming onto me, man?" He shot back, though his tone was humorless.

"When I said give yourself some time I didn't mean with training, I meant give yourself time to feel the way you did before." Matthew elaborates, and Brody can practically hear him rolling his eyes, "I think physically you're able to get back into shape. Correct me if I'm wrong. Now you need to slowly readjust your head and that's not going to happen by sitting on the couch or talking to shrinks. Throw yourself in that water and cope. Trust me- I can handle you."

He's not wrong, on many counts. Brody was so much thinner and out of practice now, Matthew probably could take him no matter what kind of abuse Brody threw at him. And the idea of powering through whatever this handicap of his was, sounded infinitely more appealing than the tired routine of telling the shrink about the nightmares he had or what had set off his latest episode of panic.

They stood there a few minutes longer until Brody finally dared to look over at his friend; his expression was concerned, but he was relieved to see that Matthew didn't look like he felt sorry for him. It made sense, Matthew of all people would understand what it was like to be in Brody's shoes, and probably how terrible it felt to be looked at with sympathy.

"You're not done." Matthew said with a gentle tap on his arm, backing up a few steps towards the yard in an obvious invitation for Brody to follow him.

Brody sighed, mentally steeling himself for whatever the hell Matthew had in mind, eventually dragging himself away from facing the shed and following his friend back out into the yard. He still felt a creeping sensation at the back of his neck, suddenly wary of being in such an open area and resisting the urge to look over his shoulder.

He was mostly successful.

"So now what?"

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

Somehow he pulls himself out of his daze and comes around to finally look at me. I can see the seperation in his eyes. I know how it feels, too, but I can't allow myself the compassion. My job is to be the guy who pushes him this time.

"So now what?" He looks almost defeated so I slide the pads back on my hands and raise them giving him a slight tap. "Hit it. Let it all out. Give me what you got- the bad and the good."
Clapping the pads together I raise my chin and start dancing around on the balls of my feet.

Each time he actually throws a hit I take it but a few times I evade his punches and duck away to give him a little more of a challenge.

the wind around us has picked up and is blowing a few drops of cold rain across the yard. The Clouds overhead are travelling fast in the sky mirroring the way Brody must feel.
To me this kind of weather makes me feel wild and free. I'm loving it and want to hit back but I won't. This is for him, not me.

[Artemis]

Brody watched wearily as Matthew put the pads back on over his hands, facing him again.

"Hit it." Matthew said encouragingly, tapping him lightly, "Let it all out. Give me what you got- the bad and the good."

Matthew clapped the pads together, shifting back onto the balls of his feet; Brody sighed heavily, putting his fists back up and lunging. His friend didn't simply stay put and let Brody whale on him, that would be too easy; but it didn't discourage him in the slightest from taking out three months' worth of pent-up aggression.

Aggression at Jins for attacking Kyanite. For shooting Brody and breaking his ribs. For making his mother and father worry, and the excruciating pain when he wasn't drugged to the gills. For the weeks and months of struggling with the most menial of tasks, for depriving him of his self-confidence and for making him feel

So.

Fucking.

Broken.

Brody punctuated each angry thought with a flurry of fists to the pads, his blows getting wilder and less controlled as he grew angrier at Jins until just raising his hands was exhausting, and he crouched with his hands on his knees gasping for breath. No more than about five minutes had gone by, but Brody had finally run out of steam to continue chasing Matthew around.

But he did feel better. After months of bottling up his frustrations, not wanting to worry his parents further by letting them see the mental toll the shooting had taken on him, it felt worlds better to have vented it all out. By now the rain had picked up to a steady beat, turning the once-damp dirt around them into a soupy mud.

"I think... we should go inside now..." He panted, not standing up but looking up to face Matthew.

_{5 mins of non-stop fighting is fucking hard D:}

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

The game is a totally different one now. He finally lets go of his inhibitions or whatever this is. There is not much strength to his blows but anger and a few times I actually have to watch that he doesn't get me. His fist fly with not enough controll, sometimes hitting the pad, sometimes not, one time he gets me in the shoulder but I turn and let it roll off me. That might actually become a bruise. Nevertheless he keeps going for about five minutes until his face is red and sweat joins the rain drops on his forehead. I feel the same. I'm hot despite the cold weather and satisfied that he seems to be crawling out of that shell he's in.

Finally he's had enough. His breathing is just a bad as mine. Wheezing and hunched over Brody just sits there. At least he doesn't look defeated now so when he asks to go inside I nod and offer him my hand to stand up before I clap him on the back (hopefully not low enough to hurt him) and we go inside.
"The warm water works. We can have a shower. I even have some food in the fridge."

Inside it's not very warm so I quickly light the fire that's already setup in the fire place.

In the kitchen I grab a glas of water and hand Brody one as well before I wipe the water from my face and hair with the kitchen towel, which is the only thing available.
"Better?" He might feel physically exhausted but mentally he has risen, I can tell.
So I smile and him and nod. "Yeah...you are!"

[Artemis]

Brody didn't have the energy or the wherewithal to flinch when Matthew clapped him on the back, tired but sated having blown off three months' worth of pent-up frustration and restlessness.

"The warm water works. We can have a shower. I even have some food in the fridge."

With the cold rain now beating down on them at a steady pace, nothing sounded more inviting than a hot shower, dry clothes and hot food in his belly. Brody followed Matthew back into the house (kicking off his muddy shoes at the door), watching as he stoked the fire in the hearth as the rain outside increased into a heavy downpour. The patter it made on the roof was oddly comforting, though as Brody surveyed the living room again, it was apparent there was still work to be done as a few drops of water plopped onto the floor.

"Better?" Matthew asked, as he handed Brody a glass of water, "Yeah... you are!"

Brody nodded mutely, feeling considerably more content than he had in a long time.

"Pretty sure Dad would be willing to help you patch the roof, if you need an extra pair of hands," He remarked offhandedly, using his foot to nudge one of the buckets laying around under a leak in the ceiling, "I know he's been meaning to catch up, see how you and Kyanite are doing."

And it would give Nolan something to think about besides wondering how Brody was faring. Nothing made Brody feel worse about the whole shooting affair --not the physical pain, or the drugs, or even the nightmares-- than seeing how badly it had shaken his parents. He was desperate to see them relax and feel like they were allowed to smile again, like they had before they remembered their son was mortal.

The heat from the fireplace was slowly permeating the rest of the house, but it didn't stop Brody from shivering. His clothes were damp with sweat and rain and mud.

"I'm gonna have to take you up on the shower," He said, fighting against the chattering of his teeth to get the words out.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

Both of us have spent enough of our power now to be satisfied. I feel drained because I've already spent time at the training center this morning so it would be a lie to say I'm unhappy to go inside.
The cold rain has soaked my clothes through and through and while my body is still radiating heat the wind chills it from the outside.

Quickly I kick off my muddy shoes since the hard wood floors inside are relatively clean but what I see inside makes me scowl. There's rain coming through the ceiling in the living room.
"Fuck!" I curse. "I've just spent two days replacing all the shingles on the west side." I thought that would be enough but I guess I have to go up there again and do the rest of the roof.
"This place is a bottomless pit. I replaced most of the piping, did the back room..." That's when a small smile forms on my lips.
"It's going to be for Mira."

"Pretty sure Dad would be willing to help you patch the roof, if you need an extra pair of hands.I know he's been meaning to catch up, see how you and Kyanite are doing."
I watch him push a bucket into the right spot while he's visibly shaking. Maybe it has taken too much out of him.
"Sure, I could use some help. Do you want to get rid of him? Is he babying you too much?"
I can only imagine what that would be like but my father has never been the type. Even when I got stabbed it was mostly Kyanite who was fuzzing over me. He'd just walk around with a deep scowl for weeks telling me he was hoping I'd be okay again. My father has always had a hard time showing his feelings.

Brody's teeth a clattering when he asks for the shower.
I nod and point him the right way. "The bathroom is back where we came in. You have to be quick though. There's only so much warm water because it gets heated by the oven in the kitchen. It's a really old house. And I also need a warm shower."
I follow him to the bathroom and hand him a clean towel.
"Unless you want to share the water..." I can't help but tease. He probably knows there's no way I'd do that- not unless it was a communal shower at the training center or the academy.