Evenfall (8 page)

His voice trailed off as they disappeared around the corner.

Even after they were gone, Boyd stared at the corner with a cold, closed off expression. The interaction had soured the day for him and made him wish not for the first time that he could go back to being removed from others.

He couldn't help feeling frustrated and insulted. He thought they had the right to be upset but why was it his fault? Why did it have to become a personal affront to him when he hadn't said anything insulting to them?

He was only doing what he was told. His connection with his mother was not an enviable one and barely even existed, even with their shared blood. She had never been a particularly good mother. For most of his life, she had been gone more than she'd been around. When she'd been there, she'd often ignored or occasionally hurt him.

Although he felt compelled to make her approve of him, it was because she never really had. It was because he had no one else in the world and the thought of being left completely alone was alarming when he thought about spending the rest of his life with ghosts. It hadn't mattered before she had contacted him because he'd nullified his emotions but now if he had to go back he would have to build up to that all over again.

Apparently she was disliked at the Agency which seemed as though it was going to be reflected upon him but that only served to frustrate him further. Cecilia and Dover had seemed friendly before they'd found out who he was. Was everyone going to take out their frustration with his mother's decisions on him or were Cecilia and Dover special cases?

When he looked in the room, he saw that David was in there stretching and getting ready. Boyd walked in, frustration making it into the set of his eyes and the slight tightening of his jaw.

David quirked an eyebrow, looking him up and down as Boyd dropped his bag to the side. He walked straight over to the weapons rack and picked up a pair of expandable tonfa. When he strode back over to David, he still hadn't said a word and David's dark-eyed stare had sharpened on him.

"Well. I was going to point out you're late but now I'm wondering why." He shook his arms at his sides to loosen them. "I didn't even know it was possible for you to look pissed."

Boyd didn't answer, staring him straight in the face with cool brown eyes. He flipped the tonfa up to protect his arms and then got into a fighting stance.

David straightened, looking unimpressed. "I've got news for you, kid. You don't get to ignore your trainer just because you don't feel like talking." His eyes flicked to the tonfa. "And put those down. We're doing hand-to-hand today."

Boyd's lips tightened into a frown. He would have preferred to work with something more complicated so he could get his mind off the twin shifting of expressions from confused and helpful to disgusted and angry. Even so, he complied. He flipped the tonfa up, caught them by the ends and transferred them to one hand. He was just leaning over to set them on the mat when David suddenly came at him from the side.

Off-balanced with the tonfa taking up his hand, Boyd tried to drop to the mat and brace himself against the floor but David was too fast. Boyd was thrown down to the mat on his back, his breath whooshing out of him. David moved to pin him but Boyd recovered quickly, twisting out of the way and throwing himself back up to a stand.

Boyd danced away, his gaze flicking down to the tonfa as he considered reaching for them, but David hooked them on his foot and kicked them clear across the room. They rolled and clattered but Boyd didn't have the chance to see where they ended up because David came at him again.

They continued to spar, with David striking hard and fast and painfully throwing Boyd down to the mat more than once. For his part, Boyd was growing faster and he was good at slipping away. His thin form was harder to hold onto and he knew how to manipulate his attacker's joints so they were forced to let go.

As they fought, David continued to talk.

"What made you angry?" David struck at Boyd's side.

"I'm not angry." Boyd blocked and whirled out of the way before David got a grip on him.

David snorted. "Could've fooled me." Silence except the sound of their feet across the mats and their harsh breaths, and then: "Did it have something to do with those trainees out there?"

Boyd punched David harder than usual, although David blocked it and redirected the momentum.

"No," Boyd said firmly, twisting and jerking his arm back as David tried to capture him.

David smirked and didn't respond for a minute as they traded blows and dodges. The fact that David had seen Cecilia and Dover and was pressing the topic was serving to irritate Boyd. Especially since he wanted to use the sparring as a way to forget his frustration in the first place.

"Let me give you a piece of advice."

David was suddenly in Boyd's personal space and dropped down, swiping Boyd's legs out from beneath him before he had the chance to react. Boyd slammed back onto the mat and David dropped onto him immediately, pinning him down with his face near Boyd's.

David's eyes were alight with adrenaline and a reflection of what often seemed like his obsession with training. The man could often be found in the training room, working out religiously and honing his skills. He was almost fanatical about it yet most of the time that intensity didn't make it to his expression. Inches from Boyd's eyes, it did then.

"Probie mistake number one: letting emotions control you in a fight. It makes you easier to compromise." David shoved Boyd harder against the mat, his heavy body not letting up even when Boyd tried to get away. His eyes felt like they were burning twin holes through Boyd.

"You think your enemy doesn't notice when you're distracted?" David demanded. "You think just because you pretend to be an expressionless doll it makes you one? When you're at the job as long as I've been you get to know people. And you would've gotten yourself killed just now, worrying about whatever petty issue you're having. Because when it comes to life and death, that's all those issues ever are: petty and not worth dying over."

Boyd's eyes narrowed and he tried to shove David off him but David accounted for the movement, easily holding Boyd down.

"What's the matter?" David asked keenly. "You don't like this? You want me to let you up?"

Boyd's heart was starting to thunder the longer he was held down; the longer he couldn't get away. "Get off me," he said lowly, struggling harder.

David raised an eyebrow and didn't relent on his hold. If anything, his hands only tightened. His body seemed to grow heavier and more oppressive. Boyd's breath quickened, his chest heaving from more than the spar, and he grit his teeth. He tried to use the strength of the floor beneath him to escape but David held him as easily as a cat would a mouse.

Boyd started to feel the distant claw of panic, growing closer and stronger and making his heart beat so hard he could feel it resounding in his chest.

"You've become adept at dodging and escaping," David was saying in the background. "But I think it's for a reason. I think it scares you to be like this."

Boyd jerked against David's hold and had to clench his jaw to keep himself from making a sound. His entire body was taut with tension and suppressed fear. His eyes squeezed shut and he tilted his head back, trying to will himself to calm down. To settle down and think about this rationally; to simply relax and breathe.

But the words meant nothing against his shaking limbs. It wasn't working. It was never going to work. David was too heavy on him. He couldn't move-- he wouldn't be able to get away--

"Why is that?" David's voice asked distantly.

Behind Boyd's eyelids there was a flash of cement and a puddle of water. Confusing clips of voices; laughter both cruel and happy, and the twisted sound of a scream sounding far away and at the same time too close. Buildings reaching to the sky and a street growing too small.

Red curling into the puddle, inch by inch changing it forever from clear water. And through it all being pressed down, harder and harder, lungs stilling with the feeling of suffocation--

Warm breath and a voice curling in his ear:
I want you to remember this forever.

Boyd didn't hear the strained noise he made or realize when he abruptly switched to mindless, panicked struggling. He threw himself into getting away, into ripping the heaviness off him and getting free. He didn't know exactly what happened; the next thing he knew he was standing back from David, his body arched defensively. His mouth was open as he panted harshly and he stared wildly at David as he expected some sort of attack.

David stood there calmly, watching Boyd without surprise. "Probie mistake number two; letting those same emotions show. Creating a weakness."

Boyd didn't answer, still trying to calm himself down from the heart-fluttering panic. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, making him feel shaky from adrenaline and the aftermath. David studied him with narrowed, serious eyes and lips that turned down into a frown. He crossed his arms and then jerked his head to the side.

"Take five. After that we're going to weapons. You have an appointment at 1400. Since we'll have to stop early today, I expect you to work harder than usual."

If Boyd had been capable of thinking clearly he would have questioned the appointment since he knew nothing of it. But he didn't want to talk at the moment and the short break sounded better than quenching any curiosity. David disappeared into a back room.

Boyd walked over to the wall, the shakiness refusing to leave his limbs, and he dropped down. He pulled his legs in close and rested his elbows on his knees. His fingers dug into his hair as he leaned his head forward. He closed his eyes but that only caused a flash of blue eyes widening and turning red.

"Damn it," he hissed quietly to himself, his voice harsh and a little strained.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the rise and fall of his breath, and on calming his heart. He felt unbalanced and distracted and he knew neither feeling was going to aid him in sparring. He pointedly ignored every unwanted image that flashed behind his eyelids, and harshly shut down every emotion that rose in response.

He wondered if the interaction with Cecilia and Dover had tainted him; if the anger from that had compromised him. He thought it had. Which meant he'd failed by feeling anything after their conversation. He shouldn't have listened to them. He shouldn't have cared.

What did it matter what they called him? What did it matter whether anyone hated him for something that wasn't his own doing? What did it matter if anyone on compound wanted him to die because his circumstances were abhorrent to them? He should have ignored them all. He should have let it wash over him. He should have known better than to react. It had been weak of him. It had been unacceptable.

He didn't like how often he'd had sudden hints of memories and flashbacks ever since he'd come to the Agency. He thought it was because he was around too many people at once for long of periods of time. He'd been able to silence and deaden everything in his home.

Here, he was already taxing a lot of energy dealing with all the eyes on him, the unfamiliar environment, and the new stimuli. It was tiring at times and he thought it could have been contributing to the disconcerting slips in his control.

It took him a little while but he was finally able to return to the comforting darkness that allowed everything to pass him by unheeded.

When he opened his eyes again and looked up he saw David across the room, seemingly ignoring him as he picked out some weapons. Even so, his head tilted just so in Boyd's direction. He strode across the room and swiped the tonfa off the floor along the way.

David stopped at Boyd's side and held the tonfa to the side, holding out his other hand. Boyd stared at him a moment and then reached out, gripping David's outstretched hand. David's strong, blunt fingers wrapped around Boyd's hand and yanked him up to a stand. When they were facing each other, David silently held out the tonfa. He didn't break eye contact even when Boyd accepted them.

There was a long moment in which they stared at each other. David's gaze broke away first, taking in Boyd's neutral expression and stance before he nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright," he said as he strode toward the center of the room. He stopped and turned to face Boyd, picking up a staff called a bo and holding it in front of him. "I'm going to attack. Disarm me."

They spent the next few hours sparring. David made it increasingly difficult, attacking Boyd more quickly and less predictably. Boyd ended up getting hit more than once, but he also disarmed David multiple times.

In one move, Boyd stopped David's attack by alternating blocking with each tonfa and got close enough to kick David hard in the solar plexus. David flew back, the staff falling out of his hands to clatter in front of Boyd, who kicked it back out of the way and dropped into a defensive pose. David was grinning when he stood from the floor and told Boyd it was well-played. It was one of the times he seemed truly pleased with Boyd's progress.

They were in the middle of a particularly heated spar when Boyd noticed movement at the door. It distracted him and David took advantage of it, twisting the tonfa out of Boyd's hand and flipping him over to throw him down onto the floor. He dropped onto Boyd, using his own tonfa against his neck. Boyd panted heavily, staring up at David who didn't linger. After he'd proven his point about Boyd's fear of being held down he hadn't bothered to push it again.