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I wake up surprised that I'd fallen asleep in the first place. The glass of whiskey I poured myself is still on the table, practically untouched. A glance at my datapad tells me I've slept for over an hour, sprawled out over the table in the commissary. My right arm feels numb from being used as a pillow in my sleep.
In fact, my entire body is stiff and sore. Darrow seems to think our training is only about me teaching him, but I'm learning a lot from him as well. He may not be a natural duelist like I am, but he's been through over a decade of war, and his combat skills are legendary for a good reason. He’s making me pay dearly for every time I put him down.
I stand up, ignoring the countless more pains and aches that awaken as I move across the room. A heap of dirty dishes in the sink tells me that Sevro’s been here while I slept, so I check my reflection in the mirror above the sink to make sure he didn’t paint obscenities on my face or put chewing gum in my hair or anything like that. Oddly enough, he did not.
Yawning, I finish my drink and then go to wash my glass and the dishes Sevro left behind. “Gorydamn Goblin,” I mutter the curse that’s been a constant in my life ever since we picked him up on Venus. Then my anger melts away as I think of his face when he realized that instead of finally returning home to his wife and children, another long trip was waiting for him. The news nearly broke him. It’s difficult for me to reconcile the wild creature I’ve known with the image of a loving family man, but apparently both are true.
As I finish rinsing the dishes, my thoughts turn to Darrow, as they often do. I think of how he took in the same news that devastated Sevro. It’s clear as day that it pains him as much as it does his best friend, but somehow the weight of it doesn’t seem to crush him. It’s like another load has been added to his already overburdened shoulders but instead of buckling under it, Darrow just took a moment to adjust and then carried on.
Always a man on a mission, Darrow. It used to baffle me at the Institute, that insane drive of his that outshone even the most ambitious of us. Of course I didn’t know back then that he was fighting for much more than just becoming Primus of House Mars and winning the Institute.
I know what’s at stake for him now, but it baffles me still — how dedicated to his cause Darrow continues to be, despite all that it’s cost him. He even offered to travel to the Rim to meet up with the Daughters of Athena in Sevro’s place, back when we still thought our journey was almost at an end. Maybe that’s what helped him bear Virginia sending him away — he was never planning on staying long anyway. I wonder what that’s like for her, then make myself drop the thought before I get lost in pointless what ifs and maybes.
I put the dishes on the rack to dry and head to the bathroom to clean up before I turn in for the night. The Archimedes is quiet save for the comforting hum of the engines, everyone asleep except Aurae who is on pilot duty tonight. I walk through the familiar corridors of the ship that’s become my home, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Until I walk past the training room.
It's occupied. At first I think Sevro might have crawled out of his den at night when everyone is fast asleep, but as I listen through the closed door, I recognize the footfall patterns of the Willow Way.
I open the door and storm in, anger inexplicably welling up inside me. “What the hell are you doing?”
Darrow doesn’t even break stride, carrying on through the movements of Stooping Grass Stalk with elegant ease that almost defies the training I've already put us through today. He worked as hard as I did, and I’m in a much healthier state than he is. “I’d say it’s rather obvious.”
I let out a huff. Why must he always be so frustrating? “Yes, I can see you’re training. But why are you training?”
He doesn’t even dignify that with an answer.
“Do you know what time it is? Darrow, stop.”
Naturally, the contrary bastard does not.
The urge to throttle him is strong, the idea of it immensely satisfying. I take a deep breath and do my best to be the grown-up in the room. “Overtaxing yourself won’t do you any good. Two training sessions a day are perfectly enough.”
He scoffs and messes up the final pose of Mountain Lion. “Enough? Nothing about me has been enough for… I don’t even know how long.” Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he shakes out his arms before starting the Mountain Lion again from the beginning, more careful and deliberate in his movements now. He’s gotten far better at finding his calm, I have to give him that.
Me, on the other hand? Quite the opposite. Maybe I should try Aurae's meditation book; it seems one needs something to calm the mind when spending too much time in Darrow's presence.
“Look, I know you’re still miffed about the fight with the Minotaur, but—”
“Miffed? I’m not miffed, I’m thankful for the wake up call he gave me. Clearly I needed the lesson to realize I’ve become obsolete.”
That makes me laugh out loud in incredulity. “Obsolete? Darrow, you’ve been beaten in one duel, and only because—”
“Spare me the speech, I’ve heard it enough times already,” he interrupts me and starts rattling off my usual arguments in a bored, detached voice, counting them off with his fingers. “I was physically messed up from the bloodbath on Mercury. My lung was slagged, as was my arm. I was rad heavy and malnutritioned and rusty from being stuck on an asteroid for months. Doesn’t excuse how sloppy I got.”
He’s not completely wrong, but he’s also light years away from being right. There’s no point in wasting my breath on changing his mind, though, because he’d just brush my words off as empty platitudes. He doesn’t want to hear that he’s been target number one for over a decade — while he’s been fighting a non-stop war all over the Core, trying to put out one fire after another, each and every one of his enemies has been watching his every step, studying his every move, analyzing his every decision. Learning of him, learning from him.
I don’t say any of that because I know he just won’t hear it, not in the state he's in now.
I was the same after he beat me at the gala. The difference is that Darrow beat me when I was in my prime, well-fed and perfectly healthy. So many years later, the humiliation of it still stings. But it did motivate me to keep improving.
It would be hypocritical of me to tell him to stop, I realize. I ran myself ragged training with Aja after the gala, my mission to become better overshadowing everything else.
"Look, it's late," I say, finding myself speaking to his back. While I got lost in the memories of days long gone, Darrow has sunk back into the flow of the Willow Way. "I'm going to sleep. You should do the same soon. Working too hard will only be counterproductive."
"I know my limits."
"Yes, and you keep pushing past them."
He turns mid-motion and strides toward me, only stopping when his face is inches from mine. "Haven't you noticed? I push everyone past their limits.” He stabs a finger in the center of my chest, hard. “My family, my friends. My army on Mercury, which I left to die horribly at Atlas's hands." His voice breaks, laden with shame. His expression darkens. "It's either go hard or lie down and give up, and I'm not doing that." He takes a calming breath and steps back. "Virginia's counting on me. Mars is counting on me. I can't let them down again. I have to be better than I was. So stop this… whatever it is you're trying to do here."
He turns away from me and goes back to his training.
What a strange feeling, being next to a man on a mission, especially when that man is Darrow. I imagine this is what it must be like to get caught up in a tornado that picks you up and carries you off to parts unknown. The pull of Darrow's gravity as he drags us all along is relentless, inescapable, and most dangerous of all — it can make us dizzy with the feeling that somehow, things are going to work out in the end just because he wills it so.
I know that's not always true, but standing face to face with his conviction, his purposefulness and resolve to find a way to do what needs to be done, I have to remind myself not to fall under his spell.
After all, tornados leave nothing but ruin in their wake.
No, that's not fair to him. He's doing his best to save lives, not to destroy.
"I understand why you're doing this," I say, feeling a little ashamed of the way I just thought of him. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't push yourself too hard." I watch him go through the demanding movements of Gnarled Tree Root, wincing in sympathy because I know those movements must be giving him hell after the training we already put in today. "If you keep going like this, your body's going to hate you for it when you are old."
"I don't think I'll have to worry about that."
I don't know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
Darrow looks at me, his expression calm again after the outburst earlier. "Goodnight, Cassius." A hint of the weariness he must feel finally finds its way into his voice.
"Goodnight. Don't stay up too long."
"I won't."
"Twenty more minutes at most, alright? Then it's bedtime for you, even if I have to drag you into bed myself." I wag my finger at him, hoping to lighten the mood.
He chuckles under his breath. "Will you tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?"
"Idiot," I say and turn to leave, then decide to stay leaning against the doorway to watch him for a little longer. He is rather satisfying to watch.
He's got his eyes closed now, dancing across the training room on light, quick feet in a variation of Butterflies in the Breeze. I notice some of his movements are slightly off and open my mouth to correct his form, but before I do, I realize the changes he's made, intentionally or not, are in fact for the better.
And he thinks he’s become obsolete. I shake my head as I finally leave the room, not quite sure how someone as intelligent can be so oblivious when it comes to his better qualities.
As I walk to my room, my mind starts to fill with the possibilities of further exploring any changes Darrow might have subconsciously made to the Willow Way. We could expand on those changes, work together to create something new, perhaps even something better.
This is what Darrow does best, I realize as I lie down to sleep without reaching for the flask under my pillow as I have done every night before this one. Despite the hardships that will undoubtedly come, somehow he makes me excited for tomorrow.
Or did I just let myself get carried away by the gorydamn tornado?