Madelyn, Haroun - last Friday afternoon

[x-madelyn.livejournal.com]

Before Hank's diagnosis and the problem with Haroun's implant comes to light, Madelyn indulges in some light sparring with Haroun as physical therapy on his back. Things don't go well, and certain issues begin to come to light.



"Okay, this will be a fairly light session, " Madelyn said, finishing her warm ups and shaking out her arms and hands. "Just something to warm your back muscles up, give you a bit more movement without putting on too much strain. Understood?" She was in her usual work-out attire - sweat pants and a tank top, hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Ready?"

Haroun nodded. "I'm not sure about this." he said sceptically. "But if you think it's safe..." he said with a challenging grin as he dropped into an easy fighting stance. He wore a wifebeater and camo pants, his more-or-less usual workout attire. In deference to Maddy, he wore sparring gloves on his hands - he wouldn't want to wreck her pretty features by going after her barehanded. He waited for her to attack, to set the pace and the tone for the workout.

"Trust me - I'm a doctor, remember?" she teased with a brief smile, before bringing her hands up in a basic guard position. "Take it easy on the kicks, at least the roundhouses - those'll put too much strain on your back," she told him, coming forward and throwing a couple of light, loose punches at his face. No power, just giving him something to block.

Haroun blocked them easily, and followed them back with a ripped-off backfist aimed right at her nose. He backed off on the power at the point of impact, but not on the speed of the technique. Just getting back into the ring felt _good_ to Haroun. It felt _right_. He followed up his backfist with a series of ridgehands, to give her something to block and anticipate.

Madelyn pulled back from the backfist - Haroun did love those - and blocked the ridgehands, following the last up with punch aimed at his solar plexus, and another to his throat. "How's it feel?" she asked. "Back okay?"

Haroun sidestepped the solar-plexus punch, blocked the throat-shot, and then stepped in to aim a knee-strike at her solar plexus. "Feels fine so far." he said, by ease of long habit ignoring the first twinges of back pain. "But I'm coasting here."

"Coasting is fine - if I wanted you to go full-contact, I'd have gotten Alison to arrange a Danger Room session or even asked Nathan if he was up for a sparring session with you." Madelyn stepped forward on a forty-five degree angle, avoiding the knee and aimed a ridgehand at his side, stopping just short of contacting his kidneys. "Like it or not, my friend, it's another week or so of coasting until you're back up to full strength. But considering the amount of damage you took, you're doing pretty well to have come this far."

Haroun aimed a quick stomp at Madelyn's leading foot, then waded in with a flurry of elbow strikes. The ridgehand aimed at his kidneys snuck through, as he was unable to twist his body enough to put any English on the block.

Eep, elbow strikes. Madelyn backpedalled, knowing she didn't have the strength to block something like that, even with Haroun's back stopping him from putting any real power into them. One got through, although she managed to deflect it away from her face and into her shoulder instead. Ignoring the impact and the flash of heat signalling there'd be a bruise there later, she returned the barrage with a series of punches, mostly aimed at his head and throat, but a couple dropping lower to solar plexus and groin. Not that hitting him there would do the least bit of good and possibly break her hand, but old sparring habits died hard.

Haroun stepped in closer, spoiling her aim for the punches. Instead, he grabbed a double-handful of her tank top, twisted, and _pulled_, looking to take her off her feet and down to the ground. He got a spike of pain as his back twisted, but he resolutely ignored it.

There was a sound of ripping seams as Haroun's grip and twist split the side of Madelyn's top almost all the way up, but that was lost in her yelp as she was yanked off her feet and dumped unceremoniously on the mat, flat on her back. "Damnit, Haroun, coasting, remember?" she reminded him, annoyed and concerned more for the state of his back than the state of her clothing for the moment.

Haroun dropped for the pin, straddling her hips and putting a little bit of English on the wrist lock he was hoping to cinch in. "I am coasting." he said with just the faintest amount of growl. He then looked at her chest, and grinned. "I think you had a wardrobe malfunction." he said, making absolutely no move to break his hold and allow her to retake her feet and clothe herself decently. Sports bras were so very _dull_, he decided right then and there. Hard on the heels of _that_ thought was the wondering of what she'd look like without one on at all, or perhaps one of those American deals that lifted and emphasized.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting throws as part of this little session," she replied, wincing a bit at the wrist lock. "Hey, easy on the joints there, Haroun. I have reports to type up later, and I sort of need functioning wrists." The fact she could feel it was telling - Madelyn's hands and wrists were pretty strong, from the shooting practice she put in.

Haroun backed off on the lock, but he didn't release it. "You said you wanted me to coast. Grappling's some of the easiest stuff on the back that I know, considering you do most of it flat on your back." he commented. He had both hands on the wrist lock, so he couldn't take advantage of her dishevelment other than with his eyeballs. "Besides, didn't they teach you this stuff in secret police school?" he asked with something of a sneer.

"It was the throwing me down here I was more worried about," Madelyn said with a roll of her eyes. "I've got a spare shirt in my locker - give me a minute to get changed and I'll show you exactly what they taught us in secret police school, okay?"

"Make me." he said with that same sneer. "I like you just where you are."

"Haroun..." Madelyn tried to pull her wrist free of his hands, but he had too strong a grip, and the lock was just an inch shy of painful any way. "I'm serious. I'm not sparring with you half-naked. Stop being an ass and let me up."

Haroun shook his head, and then rolled off her and let the lock go. "Go. Get changed." he told her brusquely, then sank into seiza with his back to her and closed his eyes - to better focus on his breathing, and to calm his suddenly raging blood. He didn't even really desire her any more than any man desires a beautiful woman, and it puzzled him as to why he was reacting so strongly. Possibly because she was so sexless most of the time - scrubs were hardly flattering.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, sitting up, one hand moving to hold her shirt closed. When he didn't answer, she reached out to touch his shoulder, forgetting for the moment that might not be the wisest idea. "Haroun?"

Haroun reached around and used her hand on his shoulder to throw her over his shoulder and back onto the ground. He never opened his eyes for the entire time. "Don't do that." he said roughly. "Go get changed - I need the time to calm down."

The breath woofed out of Madelyn with the second throw - she hadn't been expecting it, and she landed off. For a moment she just concentrated on breathing. That and not looking in any way a threat or anything else for that matter. When she could breathe properly again, she rolled over onto her knees, away from him. "Do you want to finish the session now?" she asked, getting to her feet. "I think maybe this was not such a good idea after all."

"Yes, I want to finish the session. I don't quit." he said, still with his eyes closed. "I don't quit, I don't give up, and I don't molest my friends." he said gravely. "So go change out."

Madelyn nodded, and without another word, left the gym for the change rooms.

Haroun waited until she was out of earshot to open his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in serenity, calm, lethal focus. Breathe out passion, fear, lust. He didn't want her - he wanted Alison. And it was unfair to Madelyn to take his frustrations out on her. He had to put the sight of her bra out of his mind, the smoothness of her skin, the shifts as she drew breath. He wanted Alison - and he'd seen her in a lot less than just a sports bra.

When she returned, Haroun was still in seiza, eyes closed. Hopefully the meditation had helped. The replacement shirt was a touch tighter than she would have liked for this situation, but most of her training shirts were - less chance of things getting caught that way. "I'm ready," she said quietly, watching him carefully. "You okay?"

Haroun stood up, and then turned around. "Yeah." he said with a nod. "I think I'll be fine. Look, I'm sorry about that. I'm an asshole sometimes." he said by way of an apology. "Try not to take it personally."

"It's all right," she replied steadily. "I know you didn't mean it." She made no move to engage him again, though. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Just bring it. I'll be fine." he said, dropping into a fighting stance. He then extended one hand and waggled his fingers at her - a clear invitation, and something of an insult.

"Fine." Madelyn came forward, eyes never leaving his face. The earlier banter was gone, as was the playful mood - this time she was taking things far more seriously, although watching him for signs of loss of control meant that her technique opened her up a little too much.

Haroun skipped forward, using his forward hand to reach for her arm, maybe to pull her into an arm bar or some other grapple. As a distraction, he aimed a low scything kick at her calves - if it connected, it would knock her off her feet. Hopefully.

Jumping back, Madelyn avoided the sweep, but he managed to lock onto her forearm. Not good, her brain told her obligingly. Moving forward, letting him keep the hold for now, she ducked under the arm that was holding her, turning and using her momentum to twist her arm out of his grip, adding a kick at the back of his knee to drop him with minimum of damage to his back.

Haroun moved through the hold as well, nullifying her momentum and adding some of his own to the hold he had on her. The kick to his knee he ignored - she couldn't possibly damage the 'ware, and it would take more force than she could dish out to force the knee joint to bend if he didn't want it to bend. "What, they teach you dance in spook school?" he taunted. "Going to waltz with me next?"

"You do know about Pete and the ballet, right?' she replied shortly, cursing the 'ware. A whole range of takedowns that didn't require bodily lifting thrown completely out the window. Still, if he had her arm, it meant one less hand for him as well as her. Twisting the hand of her trapped arm around to grip his forearm, she slammed the heel of her other hand into the back of his suddenly-straightened elbow, right at the pressure point there.

His legs may be carbon-fiber and titanium, but his arms were still flesh-and-blood. Her strike scored, causing Haroun to involuntarily let go of his grip on her. He grinned at Madelyn in a disturbingly feral way, and then pulled her in closer to him - a mockingly cruel parody of a dance. He grinned at her just before he used his head to deliver a stinging strike to her forehead.

"God _dammit_!" she swore, pulling back as much as she could with him still holding onto her. Blinking to clear her vision of stars, her eyes narrowed at the grin, and her free hand flashed out, grabbing him by the throat while she hooked her leg around his. Madelyn had a strong grip, and she wasn't intending to hold on forever - she pushed forward, bending him backwards over her leg, knowing he couldn't resist pressure on his throat, not without cutting off his air supply.

Haroun folded like a wet rag at the pressure - the strain on his back, let alone the strain on his throat, was too much to bear. He fell to the floor with a wince as his back _screamed_ its pain at him. He embraced his pain, used it as a goad to force him into action.

Madelyn followed, using the momentary distraction of his back to pin him down, knees pressed firmly onto his biceps. There was a livid red mark on her forehead where he'd headbutted her, and she did not look amused. "I think we're done," she said, breathing a little hard - Haroun had triggered an instinctive response, and the adrenaline was pumping. "Don't you?"

Haroun struggled, trying to free his arms. He then tried to swing a leg up to hook around her -he was definitely flexible enough, but his back screamed at the very thought. "Maybe." he said, grinning up at her. "Nice view."

She guessed she'd be too far forward for him to hook a leg around, even if it did open her up to _that_ sort of comment. She leaned just a little harder on his arms, to push the point. "If I let you up, are you going to accept this as over?" she asked pointedly. Her head was starting to ache a little from the impact of his forehead, and there was a hot shower calling her name. After she stuck him in the chair for a half-hour.

Haroun actually started to shift her upwards - all the body-building was paying off - but he couldn't sustain the back-bridge necessary to lift her off of his arms. "I'll be good." he said with an impish grin. "After all, you're the one on top here."

Madelyn couldn't help the snicker. "Fine," she said, easing off and rocking back onto her heels before standing up and stepping back. She held out her hand to help him up. "Somehow I think we'll have to watch the sparring training for a while, there’s definitely something up with your hormone levels," she said a little ruefully, rubbing at her forehead. "You've got a head like a rock, by the way."

Haroun grinned. "Or maybe you're just soft and squishy?" he said, climbing slowly to his feet and using Madelyn's assistance heavily in the doing. "Just trying to mix stuff up a little. Predictable equals dead, after all. Or were you too busy in Dance class when the combat instructors in Spook School taught that lesson?"

"No, they taught that one to us, only they taught us to go for the nose - makes a better target. Still, I suppose I should be grateful you didn't do that," Madelyn told him begrudgingly. "And this was meant to be physical therapy, not combat training. How's your back?"

"Hurts like a sonofabitch." he said cheerfully. "And I couldn't possibly fuck up that cute little nose of yours. That would be a _crime_." he said with a laugh. "You'd have to arrest me and stuff."

Madelyn wrinkled said appendage at him. "I would. As it is, I think a bit of house arrest is in order here - you need the Chair, don't you?" The last wasn't a question.

Haroun growled at Madelyn, but then nodded. "I hate that fucking chair." he said sullenly. "But I'll be a good little broken wing and go get filtered. Again." he added, motioning for her to lead onwards. "The pain lets me know I'm still alive." he said cryptically.

"Pain?" Madelyn asked, concerned. The back she knew about, but she didn't think he meant that. "Which pain is this, Haroun? It might remind you you're alive, but I'd like to cut back on how much reminding you get."

Haroun snorted at that. "Never mind. You've never been on death's door, I don't think I could explain it to you."

"Fine," she said, with a small internal sigh. Apparently having a relatively normal life meant she had no imagination. Or empathy. "Pain or not, alive or not, I'd rather get you filtered sooner than later. Come on." And with that, she led the way out of the gym.

Haroun followed her, trying very hard not to stare at her ass as she walked. "Pain kept me alive, when the 'ware was being installed. A lesser man, a less stubborn, a less passionate man could have never survived the multiple surgeries to get it all in and working." he explained. "Pain is an old friend. She and I are very familiar."

"Perhaps. But because pain saved you once doesn't mean it's a good thing. And you're not at death's door now, so how about letting me relieve a bit of it?"

Haroun shrugged. "I've gone from fine to a code red crash in fifteen seconds before. Besides, it's just meat. I can handle it." he said confidently, with a little bit of swagger.

"You're not really making me feel any better about this," she told him smartly. "Fine, I'll stop trying to doctor you, since you're so convinced there's no point."

"Was I supposed to make you feel better about this?" he asked her curiously. "Look. The way I see it, I'm just a passenger in this body. I take it in to get fixed when it breaks."

"You're more than just a machine, Haroun. You're a human being, a friend. And as such, I worry about you. When I know you're in pain, I want to help." Madelyn paused in the hallway, turning on him. "You make it sound like you're nothing more than a car needing a lube job, and that worries me too, all right? So forgive me for caring."

Haroun grinned. "Hey, it's your job." he said with a smile. "And you're quite forgiven."

"It's more than just my job. If it was, you wouldn't drive me as insane as you do sometimes." Madelyn's expression was a mixture of concern and exasperation. "You're a doctor's nightmare, you know that?'

Haroun nodded. "I get that a lot." he said with a smirk.