La Dispute - A Word of Welcome and of Warning

I made it to the closest gym five minutes after leaving James, but my heartbeat was still hammering in my chest. I hated that he made my body react in such a way, that I couldn't catch my breath when he was near me. That I couldn't focus on anything but his smell, his heat, how close he was to me and how my skin burned where we touched. I hated not feeling in control of myself.

One moment I could feel a pull on my heart, sadness for whatever demons he was facing, and then the next want to hit him, but not know why. I felt nervous around him and that only frustrated me more, like he wasn't just a man, but someone I had to be ultra-aware of, some kind of damned celebrity. Just speaking to him was enough to make me feel like a panic attack was closing in. It was pathetic and I knew it, which only frustrated me more. I hated that I worried for him, felt protective of him, even after all he had done. He had changed so much, changed for the worse, and even if I refused to admit it, it hurt seeing him how he was; a Half, no longer a man. I had fought the title, fought the expectations of what being a Half meant, while he seemed to have resigned himself to it.

I meant what I had said when I told him I didn't want to see him like he was, but I meant it in more ways than the context told. I didn't want to see him wasting away physically like he was, but I also didn't want to see how empty he was, how devoid of life, of fire and emotion, of anything. It hurt to look at him and know what he had become, how far he had fallen. I had never considered how he was surviving without his Clan, without his family, the family he had had for much longer than me, how he was handling everything, and I didn't want to think of it now. In my mind I suppose I had pictured him being fine, not caring that his family was gone, that he was abandoned, a monster, but that had been beyond foolish. Seeing him proved it had torn him apart far worse than it had me.

I didn't want to pity him, but every spare moment my mind had circled back to him, to his thin frame and the empty look in his eyes. To the flash of torment I had seen when I ran into him outside my door. To his skin that used to glow but now looked gray, the shadows under his lashes that told me his nightmares weren't rarities. I could still hear his voice, his hoarse yell when he woke. I didn't want to think about what he dreamt of to make him call out like that, but I couldn't help but wonder.

His actions in the city only deepened my indescribable feelings. He had killed without mercy, without control. He had gone the opposite way as myself, though we both had chosen our targets for similar reasons. I had killed quickly, cleanly, at least I had tried to, while he had tortured and enjoyed each deed more than his last. I had thought the killer was evil at first, but now I understood. James wasn't worried about his nature, worried that his blood would overtake him, he already thought he was a monster, and all he could do was use his strengths to end others. It wasn't really so different from what I had done, we had ended up coming to the same decisions as each other, just with different means.

I hated that I didn't fault him for his actions, that I agreed with them now that I knew it had been him, not a crazed Fallen. My own hypocrisy amazed me.

Our connection was inescapable and I was sure that's where my emotions came from, where the worry, the sadness, the hurt of seeing what he was wasting into came from. In a way his failures, his trials and actions and pain were mine as well. And every time he neglected himself, each time he denied one of his needs, it was a blow to me just the same. In his search for strength he had lost himself, and that meant I had lost my Pair. The weight of that realization hit me like an uppercut. I had lost him, really lost him. And this thing now, this husk of a man, was someone new. I was still angry with James, but he was gone, only Gabriel remained now and I pitied him.

Coupling my disappointment with the pain of feeling my Pair was gone, dead, I had too many emotions in me to keep a single one stable for more than a few thoughts. I wanted the shell of James gone, I wanted the real one back, and then I wanted to be able to yell and scream and tell him how much I hated him. Deep down I knew I wanted to forgive my Pair, but I couldn't until he returned, and I didn't think he ever would. This empty animal was all that was left. He had been alone for just as long as I had, but where I had searched for a place, a purpose, and fought to keep my humanity, he had discarded his. And now I feared it was too late to ever get it back, to ever dig it out of whatever deep, dark part of himself he had buried it in. Could someone's humanity die? In a Half, I was sure it could.

Suddenly I felt a consuming, burning hatred for the world that had destroyed such a beautiful man. I couldn't stand it, the unfairness of it all. This life had taken a strong, selfless, arrogant, stubborn, infuriating man and turned him into a ghost and I hated everything because of it. His life had battered him from his very first breaths, and never relented its torment of him, never lessened its assault. I hated that I couldn't decide if I wanted to hurt him or help him, that I couldn't get the revenge I deserved. I hated how much I still cared.

He needs you.

Abby's voice kept echoing in my thoughts, enough that I wanted to scream at the phantom voice to leave me alone. I was torn, confused, overwhelmed, and sick of it all. It was too much, all of it was too much to deal with. I wished I was stronger, smarter. Smart enough to see the right decision, and maybe I was, but I wasn't strong enough to choose it. I wasn't ready to forgive, to let go of all the pain and anger I held onto. I hated the world for what it had done to my Pair, but I still hated him for what he had done to me, and I wasn't ready to let that go, I couldn't, whether it was the James I knew or not.

I unlocked my Shift then, no longer wanting to worry, to feel. A moment later, I heard the door open behind me. I knew I should have pulled my Shift back, shut it away in its cage, but I didn't want to. It wasn't that I couldn't, I simply wanted it with me, needed it with me right then.

I turned to see Ailech standing in the doorway, his green eyes sparkling. They widened slightly when they saw my Shift, something he hadn't witnessed since I turned it on him when he was healing me my first day at the Vault. But then his usual bored look replaced the surprise and he walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

"Look at you, showing off your pretty claws. It's a good look for you, very I-belong-in-Hell. I hear that's all the rage this season."

He paused to circle me, as if wanting to see this new view from every angle.

"So, are we training? I won't tell old Abby if you won't."

I was about to answer, about to tell him to leave so I could practice on my own. That it wouldn't even be enjoyable to spar with him in my Shift and I wasn't about to give it up. But my unspoken words were interrupted by a smooth voice at the door, a calm, low voice I'd know anywhere, even if it didn't sound quite right.

"I actually think I'm a better suited partner for her, though I appreciate you taking such good care of her in my absence."

The slight mocking in James' voice almost made me smile, though I didn't know why, but I kept my face smooth, not wanting him to see any clue to what I was feeling. He still looked dead, a deep nothingness across his features that made his words seem disconnected, like they had come from someone else entirely, though his frame was too slight for anyone to hide behind.

"If you think you're up for it. You aren't looking so good, Socio."

Ailech's reply was more taunting than James' had been and I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

"I'm sorry you're having a boy fight, but I actually came here to train on my own. It's my day off and I would like to spend it in my own way, so both of you can leave and continue your incredibly titillating conversation elsewhere."

My Shift lurched as James walked further into the room, ignoring my words and looked around, seeing the throwing knives at my feet that I had been planning on practicing with before the men's interruption.

"If you can hit me with one of those, then I'll leave, otherwise you train with me today. You should be practicing with someone better than yourself, you learn more that way."

His words were just as arrogant as they had always been, but his voice didn't match, along with his face. It sounded more like he was offering an explanation, not goading me into training with him. I felt my anger growing again. Anger that he wasn't who he was supposed to be, who I wanted him to be. Maybe it was my Shift, maybe it was something else entirely, but I suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw the knives at him, to make him bleed, to make him suffer like I had suffered. I gave a tight lipped smile as I picked up one of the four knives that were on the ground.

When I straightened James was Shifted too, and the power I felt move through the space between us made my own shiver in me, as if recognizing its equal, or maybe superior. I understood how I hadn't been able to recognize his power on the bar's rooftop back in the city. It was different now, deeper and darker and more frightening. I stared at his black eyes as I decided on my throw, not wanting to look away, not wanting to miss seeing the new creature before me.

A creature. It was striking in a terrible way, and I didn't want to tear my eyes from his. His Shift seemed blacker now, just like his power, and I felt my heartbeat quicken as I pulled my arm back, picturing where my first knife would land. Maybe it was his hair, inky black and disheveled, maybe it was his gaunt cheeks, or the rings under his eyes, but he looked like a monster, the villain from a book come to life, a myth of death and destruction in the loose form of a man, beautiful yet horrible. It made my heart stutter.

My arm was already moving when James smiled, when he let a sliver of his sharpened teeth show from behind his lips. My hand released the knife early and I knew it as soon as I made the mistake. My knife stuck to its hilt in the door behind James, just to the right of his head. He hadn't even moved, not an inch, not a flinch, not a blink. My anger doubled as I readied the next knife.

"Nasty trick, worried you can't win without it?"

My taunting words slid from behind my own pointed teeth, hoping to pull something from him, anything. Even with how different his Shift was, it was the most alive I had seen him, as if I could see glimpses of the old James in the damned thing before me that were lacking when he was in his fully-Human form.

James continued to smile, his teeth flashing in the low light of the gym. His smirk looked confident, arrogant, like it always used to, though now it had the added edge of his Shift.

"I'm just so happy to see you, Jordan."

The mocking in his voice was clear now and I almost threw the knife without a plan, without even choosing where, just wanting to make him shut up, but I caught myself. That's what he wanted. He was trying to get me to waste my throws. I remembered how he never used to show his teeth, Shifted or not, back when he was my partner, back when we were a Clan. I also remembered how he had loved showing his teeth when he was younger, to scare people, to shock them. The one thing that could make those around him look past his beauty and see the being they were truly facing.

Maybe in some ways this new James was a version of what he used to be, not new at all, but very old, back when he was still learning to control himself, undoing the damage his father had done. Maybe now he was redoing that damage, no longer caring what it did to him as long as he was strong. I felt a pinch somewhere behind my ribs, but ignored it as I let the second knife fly.

James stepped to his right as soon as the knife left my hand, predicting where I had planned to throw it, and my second chance joined my first in the door, buried to the hilt in the thick, ornate wood.

"Lucky guess."

I muttered under my breath as I adjusted the third and fourth knives in my hands.

James was still smirking at me, though his teeth were hidden now. And if his eyes hadn't been shining black pools in his face I would have sworn I saw the same old amusement in their depths, just like I always had when he would challenge me to a game back with the Clan. It made a flutter of hope move through me.

I threw the last two knives together, pushing one faster than the other with my Sign, hoping the difference of speeds would throw off his focus. Instead he dodged the first, but just barely, with a quick flick of his shoulders, and then the second hit. Unfortunately, it didn't hit as I'd hoped. Instead he caught it smoothly between the palms of his hands, just like he had done the first time I threw one of my knives at him, in the woods of the manor, when I thought he was something else entirely. The memory burned as I squeezed my eyes shut against it.

When I opened them he still stood in the same spot, unmoving like a statue. I couldn't even see his chest move as he breathed. The knife's blade was still lightly held between his hands in front of his chest, his palms pressed together as if he was praying. His head was slightly cocked to one side, and if his eyes hadn't still been dark, I was sure he would be looking at me like he so often used to, head turned as if he was watching something he found curious.

Finally, he broke the silence and dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the floor dramatically.

"I didn't know we were using our Signs."

He smirked again as he spoke and a shiver ran up my spine. His voice sounded exactly like it had when he used to Shift, no emptiness, no monotony, but like the real him...only Shifted. A moment later small trails of blue and white flickered up his arms from his hands, wisps of thin flames dancing along his skin. His smile grew into something animalistic and my heart shuddered again.

"Ready?"

The question hung in the air only a moment, unanswered, before he threw his arm out, a bolt of fire coming from his outstretched hand, shooting straight for me. I dove to one side, pulling my own knives from their holders at my hips and landing in a crouch with both drawn, an almost giddy feeling bubbling up inside of me. I was fighting, really fighting. I didn't have to hold back or pull my punches. I could use my Shift, my Sign, all the power I housed and not worry or think about anything but winning. And better yet, it was James I was against. I could hurt him, really hurt him just like I had fantasized about in my head for months. I found myself smiling as I spun one knife back to lie across the outside of my wrist, my Shift singing in me as James appeared in my line of vision.

I threw the first punch, with the back-handed knife, but he stepped back easily. I'd expected that. The second knife I threw just as his back foot touched the ground, making it impossible for him to change directions or dodge it. He leaned further back instead, turning his shoulder but still catching the edge of the knife as it passed, leaving a red line across half his chest.

I'd expected the slightest of pauses, just enough for James to acknowledge first blood, take a split second inventory of the injury, but he didn't. Apparently he had already calculated where and how the blade would slice before it had and his recovery was sooner than I'd anticipated. He moved towards me, using the switched momentum of his last dodge and pulled his fist up from his side, barely catching the side of my head as I stepped back. His second blow was to the center of my chest, pushing me away and cracking against my breastbone. I saw stars from his initial hit but recovered just as quickly as he had, returning my own punch for his which he blocked with the outside of his forearm.

After the first series of blows, everything became a whirlwind. Both of us landed some hits, none of which were full strength, always having the bulk of their power deflected, dodged or countered. Most of our attacks were blocked completely, either by him or I, each move seen before it was started, each of us focusing three or four blows ahead of the one we were on. It was a dance in my mind, perfectly timed, perfectly executed, with each participant knowing the steps by heart. Each dancer completely in tune to the other. It was the freest I had felt in months, nothing but movement and power and anticipation and blood.

It was beautiful and deadly, each strike had the potential to be ending for a lesser foe, but neither of us ever got in a fully unchallenged hit. It was ecstasy to not hold back, and even sweeter knowing it was James on the receiving end of my knives. Half practice, half vengeance. Half sport, half hate.

I felt a rib snap under one of my kicks that landed in James' gut, and had a couple more shallow swipes with my knife make some form of contact, but nothing that slowed him down for even a second. He didn't have a weapon, but still managed to draw blood from some of his own blows, still managed to knock me down more than once. We both dabbled with our Signs too, but mostly for creative purposes, since he could dodge any air I threw at him, predicting it with perfect timing as if he could see it coming. And I could snuff out his fire without too much practice. I enjoyed the physical contact against him more than my Sign anyways, and he seemed to feel the same.

Our Shifts gave us more energy, more stamina and soon I lost track of time, lost track of everything but the next blow or block, roll or kick. He wore a smile on his face that mirrored my own and I couldn't help but feel a small happiness that he had come to the Vault, if for no other reason than the training, the practice, and the freedom I would be able to experience whenever we fought. All the emotions I felt, all the anger and hurt and confusion and sadness, all of it fell away when I could see nothing but the battle in front of me, focus on nothing but the next strike and how I would return my own. Even the jarring hits, the sharp pains that dulled into a constant throb from his punches were welcomed by me, it was all part of the dance with death, with our natures intertwined. It was beautiful like blood, beautiful like fire or the sharpened edge of a blade when it catches the light just right, shining like precious metal.

I didn't feel the tension I usually did, the desire of wanting more, wanting to kill, this was everything. I didn't feel my mind pulling itself down, didn't feel the pain of being a monster, of being alone, of having nothing, no one. My mind was at peace, from my Shift and the dance, everything seemed in order in that moment, and that was something I was more thankful for than I could have even imagined a short time earlier. I was happy, I was doing what I was made to do, what I was created to do, what my entirety had been yearning for for months.