the gym; saturday morning

[flickofthewrist]

Flick hadn't been in the gym much since the last time. There'd been a lot going on that had mentally and physically stressed him so the gym had been a second or third thought. Plus, he had some issues from the last time he'd been in the gym.

But, things seemed to be settling now so he was back. He didn't know why he was here, really, but he figured an early morning round with the heavy bag couldn't hurt. For one of the first times since he'd been on the island, he pulled on a pair of gloves and started a quick pace of jabbing and swinging at the heavy bag. He worked without stopping, building up a good sweat before moving his blows into something a little more powerful, something sharper.

He was falling right back into what he knew despite what had happened last time. Hard to stop muscle memory.

[Open place/post]

Comments

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle was a little surprised to see Flick here. She was about equally surprised to see him actually wear gloves while he beat on the bag.

She hesitated at the door, then strode in like she didn't have a care in the world. "Well, look who's here."

[flickofthewrist]

"Yep," he replied, glancing over at her though he didn't stop what he was doing or even slow himself. "Haven't had a lot of time to get down here lately."

[seveninchmotto]

"I know," Isabelle replied, as she walked further into the gym. "It's good that you're back."

She remembered last time, too.

[flickofthewrist]

"Is it?" He stopped long enough to shrug and glance down at the gloves before shaking his head and resuming the punching. It didn't feel as good to him with gloves.

He couldn't feel it in his arms and shoulders and it was throwing him off.

[seveninchmotto]

"Yes," Isabelle said, even though she knew he didn't buy it. They could work on that. Slowly. "It is. How do your arms feel?"

[flickofthewrist]

"Stupid." That was his petulance talking. "I can't feel anything in my arms but the typical burn of muscles working."

[seveninchmotto]

"Why are you wearing gloves now?"

It was new, and she had a guess, but she had to ask.

[flickofthewrist]

"Because I said I'd try," he told her, stopping what he was doing and deciding he was gone with the gloves for now. He started to pull one and then the other off before flexing and clenching his fingers.

[seveninchmotto]

"It's not exactly what I meant, but it's a nice start, if you can get used to them," she told him, tilting her head. "Boxing was never a very big part of our training, so I never did."

[flickofthewrist]

"I learned when I was in military school," he told her, tossing them aside and taking a few experimental hits on the heavy bag with his bare hands. That felt more like what he was used to. More like what comforted him so he hit harder and harder.

[seveninchmotto]

"My military school was less interested in hitting things with our fists."

She watched him quietly for a while after making that remark.

[flickofthewrist]

"Not surprised," he told her, stepping back again and swinging his arms to loosen them. "Mine was a disciplinary measure. I learned other things but it was more to keep me in line than anything else."

[seveninchmotto]

"That's the impression I've gotten," she replied mildly. "Not military in the sense of preparing for any actual war."

[flickofthewrist]

"Nope." He shook his head and went back to punching at the bag, memories flitting through his mind unbidden. He remembered what'd happened while he'd been away.

What he'd missed. His body tensed and tightened and he punched harder, more savagely proving that that wound would never really heal.

[seveninchmotto]

"Hey," Isabelle said softly after a moment. After frowning a little, though she didn't realize she was doing it. "You're doing it again. You're going too hard."

[flickofthewrist]

Flick stopped his next punch and cursed silently. Not at her but at his memories, the dark thoughts in his head right now.

"How can you decide what's too hard?" he asked once he'd calmed down. "That's normal for me."

[seveninchmotto]

"Does it hurt?" she asked. "Is the only purpose for the force you're using to make it hurt because that makes you feel better?"

She'd had long enough to observe him by now to have figured some things out.

"If the answer to both is yes, you're doing it too hard."

[flickofthewrist]

"It helps."

He thought it did, at least. It gave him a way to channel his issues, his thoughts into something that wouldn't hurt anyone else.

"Why is that wrong?"

[seveninchmotto]

"You're not supposed to hurt yourself. Not on purpose."

That was how simple it was.

[flickofthewrist]

"It goes away," he pointed out, shrugging. "It's not permanent and it helps me."

He was a tough sell on changing, unfortunately.

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle had expected nothing less, which was why she wasn't getting exasperated just yet. "Still," she said. "It's not good. It's a bad kind of destructive."

[flickofthewrist]

Flick tilted his head. "Over a decade of doing it this way and I haven't destructed, Isabelle. I don't think it's going to kill me."

[seveninchmotto]

"The war didn't kill me, Jon," Isabelle pointed out evenly. "That doesn't mean it wasn't bad for me."

[flickofthewrist]

Flick's lips thinned. "Not fair. Not the same thing either. This doesn't make me want to change. The other way doesn't seem worth it."

[seveninchmotto]

"I thought you wanted a future with me."

She wasn't playing very fair. She knew.