Log [Alison, Haroun] In the gym...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Set after these emails. This time, it's Haroun turns to be the calm and sensible one, as Alison works out some unresolved anger - to a certain extent. Some things don't go away so easily, no matter how well adjusted you are.



The hand guards had been strapped on just right, a touch on the side of too tight at first, but they had quickly set into place - Alison had already warmed up by the time Haroun had arrived, not having waited for the reply to her email after suggested they head downstairs, confident that he'd show up. Instead she'd simply stepped right into the exercises, sticking to her usual complement of forearm and elbow strikes. For the most part. Though she rarely used direct punches, more then the usual share had slipped through this time, and by now she was to a fair share in all of them, the tenseness in her body translating to more strength to the blows than mere practicing required and more emotion showing in her face than she might have normally let through. Sweat pearled at her brow and rage showed through, every now and then, before being sublimated in the task of demolishing the punching bag.

Haroun was painfully aware of Alison's distress, so he opted to keep things simple. His beloved US Army camo pants, boots, and a simple T-shirt. "Hey." he told her, well out of range of a crazy swing if she chose to offer one. "Want me to hold that thing for you?" he said, gesturing to the oft-abused heavy bag.

A short, sharp nod, Alison pausing only long enough so that he could get a secure hold on the punching bag before stepping right into the swing of things again. There were no kicks, even though she usually practiced those as well - it seemed to be more about standing against a tide she knew would sweep her away, body bent into each strike, powered from the ground up without any half-measures being involved.

Haroun simply held the bag and let her work through things in her own way, at her own speed. "You're better than he is." he said simply. "You care. He doesn't, despite how much he wants people to believe that he does."

A low, angry sound escaped her with the next hit, in a sharp exhalation of breath. "It was a fluke." The words were clipped, tightly compressed between one strike and the next.  "Shouldn't have been able to stop him." There was hatred in the last word. She slipped on the next one, elbow hitting the punching bag hard and in the pause that followed, the whisper was easy to hear. "Could have killed Miles with what I did." Some of the despair of that day shone through her eyes briefly, but she shook her head and pushed back, taking another calculated swing at the punching bag.

"And with a stray thought he could have killed everyone in a hundred-mile radius. Take your wins where you can get them." he said sagely. "You did better than I or most anyone not named Dane or Dayspring would have done."

"Shouldn't have." Alison knew, with every fiber of her being, that what had happened never should have. She should be dead. The light scar on her arm, the obvious one on her leg were reminders of that. The nightmares, fading but still present now and then, were as well. "Should have died. Over and over. Should have." Her teeth were clenched as she spoke, her breathing growing more ragged as she kept hitting the punching bag. She hadn't talked about this with anyone, though the professor had let her know in his own way that he was there to listen, when she'd stepped out of the medlab. "Magneto. Mystique, Toad, Sabertooth." Each name bit out, renewed energy coming from them judging from the strength she put behind the punches.

How wonderful. A litany. He had a few of his own, mostly faded now but always lurking within him. "That's right. Magneto, Toad, Mystique, and Sabretooth. Three men and a whatever. Together, unstoppable. Separately? Perhaps not."

Pulling back one last time, Alison paused in mid swing and instead seemed to deflate suddenly, leaning forward to rest her forehead on the punching bag. "I just still don't understand how it turned out this way. And I'm not sure why he's given up on trying again. What I did - it won't happen again. There's not much from stopping him from..." She shrugged a bit, a small shudder running through her though she looked calmer than before.

"Conquering the world? No, I suppose there isn't. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was the nice men and women in black leather that stand between him and world domination." he said intensely. "Don't lose sight of that. We're it, sweetheart. The thin red line, the ones who hold back the tide, whatever you want to call it."

Breathing in and out a bit more deeply, warmth still flowing through her from the exercise though there would be stiffness later, Alison concentrated on now - the smell of the worn leather of the punching bag, sweat and the hint of just cleaned clothing from Haroun's t-shirt. Something trickled down the side of her face and she shivered just a bit, the coolness of the room catching up with her now that she wasn't moving anymore. "You're right." He was, doubts, fears and everything else cast aside.

"Of course I am right." he said with a satisfied smirk. "I'm always right, except for when I'm not. Trust the Moor, the Moor is wise. You still want to beat the crap out of the bag here, or can we adjourn for showers and ice cream and ... whatever else?" he said with a laugh.

She turned her head to the side, still leaning on the punching bag, and after a moment gave him the ghost of a smile. "I think I could be talked into that." What specifically she could be talked into, she didn't specify, although she did stretch out one arm towards him, noting that it was only trembling a bit from the strain she'd just put herself through. "Help?" She wasn't sure she could manage disentangling the straps to the hand guards herself, just yet. And the notion of a hot shower to just drown in was starting to sound more than appealing. Especially with ice cream and whatever else scheduled after that.

Haroun grinned and undid the wraps of her handguard. "I still have to talk you into things? I must be losing my edge." he said with a woeful pout.

Alison snickered at that, shifting to fully lean on the punching bag before offering him the other arm. "There hasn't even been any touching yet. And I'm letting you take my hand guards off." Ice cream and messiness - Alison decided that exploring that would be very worthy. Cold could be fun. She grinned a touch more freely at that, a comfortable tiredness starting to settle in her limbs.

"And whose fault is that?" he said with a grimace. "We've been interrupted by flying dragons. At this point, I expect some great calamity to befall us every time we even start thinking about pleasuring the other." He then very pointedly stared at the ceiling, as if expecting it to collapse about him. When it failed to indulge him, he grinned at her. "Or perhaps not."

"I meant now silly." She wrinkled her nose as the other hand guard was loosened and slid off her arm, conceding the point though while unable to resist peeking up at the ceiling herself. "Hrm. I'd say last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg, but I may attempt drowning by way of hot shower."

Haroun grinned at Alison. "Do you want to be touched?" he asked her, turning up the heat in his voice way, way past eleven. "Here? Or in the shower?"

She laughed at that, unable to resist leaning forward, pressing one hand to the center of his chest - and only too aware of how sweat sodden and in desperate need of soap she was. "I swear you're an exhibitionist. And begging for trouble. Someone will walk in here or in the showers and scream bloody murder at us, you know."

Haroun yawned. "Been there, done that, have the wounded dragon to show for it." he said with a grin. "That's a risk I'm willing to take - if you are." he said with a waggling of his eyebrows.

He always cheated that way. Alison tugged on the fabric of the shirt she'd somehow ended up holding on to, shifting to rest her back against the punching bag even as she drew Haroun near for a kiss. "Don't know if I want to share the sight of you with others, mmm? M'greedy and-" the rest was lost, muffled by her lips against his.

Haroun decided to get mischievous. And if he got it wrong, he'd blame it on a cyberware malfunction. He dipped her low and kept the kiss going for a couple of eternally long moments, then let her back up with a laugh.

There was a faint squeak in the kiss at that, something crackling a bit too cheerfully in Alison's spine at the motion, but she was laughing as well once he pulled her up again, out of breath and with somewhat flushed cheeks. "Shower. Ice cream. And then all bets are off." Surely the ice cream would be enough to ward off the fatigue settling in - how could it not?

Haroun grinned. "It's a date, gorgeous." he said with a laugh.