It's Hard to Dance With a Devil on Your Back

"Look we're swamped as it is and we don't need another deadbeat taking up room in the gym…" I began, waving him off

"I don't mean to waste anyones time, miss." he muttered sarcastically, "I'm just here to fight."

"I know, I've seen you. The mysterious MMA fighter who choked on the final fight." I hissed back

"Right, whatever." he brushed the insult off, annoyed, "I'm a paying customer so…"

"And I'm the boss and I say get bent." I went back to the paperwork in front of me

"And who the hell are you?" he spat

"My dad owns this place."

That shut him up for a moment and he just glared silently, his arms over his chest, as I glanced up. I glared right back at him, ready to kick him out. I'd spent my entire life in this gym, surrounded by people that were ten times my size. I learned not to show my fear so well that sometimes, I didn't think I knew how to be scared anymore.

It also helped that nearly every man here was ready to put his fighting skills on the line in order to protect me.

"Hmm…who's this?" the voice I'd been dreading managed to mutter

I turned, immediately conflicted. My dad, old and wrinkled as a dried prune, walked out from the back office, his cane clicking against the cement floors. But the man in front of me wasn't really my dad. He was hunched over, fragile, his eyes barely focused.

The dementia had taken hold of him nearly two years ago and life had never been the same. These days, he only sometimes knew who I was. Generally, he thought I was just the front desk girl that he'd hired so long ago he couldn't remember when.

"Hmm? What's going on?" he continued to question

"It's Camilla, I…you know, I work at the front desk."

His eyes slowly raised to meet mine. No recognition. Why was I surprised every time? I pretended I wasn't and he pretended he knew who I was, hobbling past me. I rubbed my head roughly at the back, glancing back for less than half a second at the intruder. He was standing there watching the old man silently, without any real expression.

"Look, I'll take care of this guy and…" I began quickly, touching his shoulder

"He's big."

His eyebrows raised as he stared up at the man in front of us, eyes scouring over him. Indeed, he was big if by "big" he meant brutish and muscley and probably dumb. I sighed, knowing full well where this conversation was headed.

"You fight, son?"

"Yes, sir." the man replied quietly

"What's he doing up here?" he glanced over at me and then back at him, "Why aren't you in the back?"

"Just setting up my membership." the man replied with a small, almost hidden smile as I glared back in response

"The gym's full as it…"

"Nonsense. We got room for one more." my dad replied, clapping the stranger on the arm before he shuffled back into his office

I frowned, unable to turn around for a full twenty seconds as the office door swung shut behind him. When I did, all I wanted to do was swipe that smug expression from this strangers face. Or punch it off.

"Here." I shoved the membership application and agreement at him furiously, "And here's your locker key."

I tossed that to him as well, watching it thud from his chest to the ground. I stormed away after that, stamping into the office and slamming the door shut behind me. I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning back against the door with a sigh.

"Da…Bob?"

The man at the desk, a stranger now, glanced up from the newspaper in front of him. I slowly walked closer, noting that the nurses had finally helped shave his cheeks. He looked like he did years ago, fresh, clean, with a polo shirt tucked into his sweat pants. I couldn't contain the expression that crossed my face, a mixture of defeatedness and pain.

"I got him a membership." I whispered, frowning

"Who?"

He slowly met my gaze, a dumbfounded and completely confused expression littering his eyes. I took a shaky breath, biting my lip as he continued to stare blankly. He'd already forgotten.

"Nevermind. I…I just came back to see if you wanted some lunch." I lied, shrugging

"Lunch…hmm…" he traveled off, as he usually did when he had to make a decision

I looked away, crumbling slightly. It had been nearly two years since we'd had any sort of semblance of a normal life. My paycheck didn't allow him to stay with me (not to mention my tiny townhouse and the round the clock care he sometimes needed at night) so he stayed at a nursing home when he wasn't at the gym. Every morning I went and picked him up, bringing him to work, babysitting him almost.

"I'll just order a pizza."

He nodded as though he'd come up with the idea on his own and glanced down at the newspapers in front of him. They were all more than a week old, some older than a month. I didn't correct him (it just made him agitated) and walked out to the front desk to call in for a pizza.

The idiot I'd been fighting with earlier was, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. I dialed the local pizza joint around the corner and asked for a large, cheese pizza. Dad would complain (he liked extra meat with everything) but it was better for his heart this way.

And then, as the clock hit noon, it was time for the daily rounds.

I walked between the rings, making small chat with some of the guys I'd grown to know over my lifetime at this place. Rico had been here for years, training for little bar fights around the city. He was pretty good too, forced to fight when he was a kid because of a terrible lisp he was still growing out of.

Jeremy was an ex-cop, "let go" from the force for battering (ahem, I mean beating the living shit out of) an abusive boyfriend's head in. The girl lied to the judge and Jeremy lost his badge. He came around to stay in shape but I knew better. He was into a more vigillante justice system now.

Luke, who had started at the gym recently, eyed me up and down as I walked by, cat-calling. He was a younger guy, probably around my age, with an obnoxious ego that took up the entirity of whatever room he happened to be in.

"Close your mouth, Luke, you're drooling on my floor." I muttered, flipping him off

He grinned, winking and I rolled my eyes, continuing to the back. For every good guy out there, there were ten douchebags. And Luke was a douchebag.

The back of the gym was reserved for punching bags and past that, the locker rooms. That's where the new guy resided, punching hard and fast. I watched the bag for a moment as it swayed back and forth with each hit. It wasn't surprising that the muscley man held some strength underneath his hoodie. From behind, without that cynical look plastered across his face, he almost looked…well…

"You order a pizza, boss?" I shook my girlish thoughts away and glanced back at Rico who was holding up the box

"Yeah." I muttered, meeting him, "And it's not for sharing."

He held a hand over his heart, feigning injury and stumbled back against one of the rings. I laughed, nudging him, and went back to the office to watch over a man who didn't know my name.



"Back off, asshole."

I glanced back, annoyed, and then went back to work sweeping the edge of the gym. Luke continued coming towards me, a smirk crossing his too-pointy face. He hadn't had the common decency to shower and there was sweat locked in his greasy, black hair, dripping down to the floor.

"C'mon baby. You look fit as hell." he mumbled as he tried to grab at me

"I said back off. Don't make me repeat myself." I shrugged away from him and on towards the other end of the gym, "And the gym's closed. Get out."

I pushed some folding chairs up against the wall as he followed behind, an overexcited puppy. I picked up some leftover tape from one of the fighters, tossing it in the trash and hitting one set of lights as I walked by.

"Why you denying me this, baby?"

He grabbed my arm again, twisting me around painfully to look at him. Something snapped inside me, the instinct I'd gotten from living with fighters all my life. I raised my fist, punching him without thinking. He grunted, falling away for a moment, and then charged, livid.

"You bitch!"

He dropped his duffle bag and towel as he went, pinning me hard against the wall. His hand was around my throat before I had a chance to cry out (not that it mattered, the gym was closed and empty) and I shuffled back, my gym shoes catching on the molding around the floor.

I kicked, clawed, bit, every dirty trick in my repetoire, but it was no use. Despite my years of experience and lifetime of sitting on the sidelines in this place, he was still bigger, much bigger. I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his hand as I tried to pry it away from my neck.

And then, very suddenly, he let go.

I staggered, opening my eyes in time to see him slam into the ground. A hooded figure stood above him, towering with the sleeves of his jacket cut off at the shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed once and then he picked up Luke, drilling him back into the ground again with a grunt.

"Holy shit." I breathed, unable to look away

Luke managed to scramble to his feet, hands up, fists clenched. He hit the hooded figure once, popping him in the jaw, twice, above the eye, and then…it was over. He shoved Luke hard and boom!, one punch to the jaw. Luke was old cold and crumpled on the concrete before I could blink.

I wheezed in a breath, clutching at the wall to keep my balance as I watched the man, eyebrows furrowing. He continued to stand over Luke, maybe he thought he'd get back up again. I could hear him panting, breathing.

"Jesus." I mumbled, still unable to breathe, "You really are an animal."

He glanced back and I recognized him from a few days earlier. The annoying guy who wanted a membership to the gym. T.J. or Tony or something. He frowned, his jacket open down the front to expose his chest.

"You're welcome." he huffed

I grinned, because it was funny and because I'd almost just been beaten and raped and honestly, how do you react after that? I sighed, relieved, and leaned back against the wall with that grin still plastered on my face.

"Ah, so you do know how to smile?" he asked, a slip of an accent showing through

"C'mon." I rolled my eyes, nodding for him to follow

He raised his eyebrows but followed me into the office nonetheless. I silently went through the desk drawers as he poked around, looking at whatever graced the shelves and walls.

"He's owned the place long?" he nodded to a picture of my dad opening the gym

"Fifty years." I muttered, opening the next drawer and shuffling some papers around

"He's sick, isn't he?"

I paused, my hands hovering inside the drawer. He seemed to notice I had paused because he turned around, frowning. I sighed, grabbing the butterfly bandages I'd been looking for and closing the drawer with my hip.

"Yeah." I muttered, "He's sick."

I crossed the room in three steps, nodding towards the lounge chair in the corner. Everything here smelt of nostalgia and it made me sick to my stomach, almost. How many times had I fallen asleep in that chair while my dad stayed up late, working?

The man sat down without a fight. He didn't even complain when I pushed his hood down, exposing his face and head and neck. Instead, he leaned back slightly, cautiously, and watched me unwrap the bandages.

"My pop's sick too." he murmured, flinching when I brushed blood away from a cut at the top of his cheek with my thumb

I didn't answer, just pulled a butterfly bandage over the cut to hold it together. I wasn't sure what to say anyway. Why was he telling me at all? And anyway, I still wasn't sure if I even liked this guy. Despite saving me from god knows what, he was still an ass.

"Ya know, I never got your name." he stated, raising an eyebrow

"Camilla." I shrugged, pulling on a jacket

"Tommy."

"I know." I lied, sarcastic, and grabbed my backpack

"You know?" he followed after me, "Been stalking me?"

It was meant to be a joke, I knew that, but the night was still fresh in my mind and I didn't want to deal with another smartass who thought he could get into my pants. I frowned, turning around with my arms over my chest. He knew he'd said something wrong immediately, his dark eyes scanning over my face.

"You signed a membership agreement didn't you? That has your name on it." I snapped, "And would you do something with that guy? I can't lock this place up with him in it."

Tommy rolled his eyes, dropping his duffle bag momentarily by the door and walking towards the back. He dragged the unconscious man out the front door, propping him up by his car, before going back for his bag.

We walked together through the parking lot for a few minutes, all the way to the back where my car was parked. He even waited with me while I pulled out my keys, unlocking the door. And then he nodded, walking off towards the sidewalk.

"You don't have a ride?" I turned away from my car for a moment

"Nope."

"It's nearly 1 in the morning."

"I only live a few blocks away." he shrugged

I groaned inwardly, sinking into the car and pulling up beside him. He continued walking for a few steps and then paused, glancing back. He raised an eyebrow, leaning down against the door and sticking his head inside.

"Get in." I muttered, exasperated

"Only if you say please."

His eyes were smiling, even in the dark, though his face wasn't. I gave a hard sigh, frowning, and he began walking down the sidewalk again, ignoring me. I swerved the car right beside him, rolling down my own window.

"Please." I hissed through gritted teeth and he smiled, jogging over to the passengers side and sinking into the seat

"Take a right up there." he instructed, nodding towards the stop sign

I followed his directions, surprised that it was more like a five mile walk than a few blocks like he'd said. I suddenly felt better about offering him a ride.

"Thanks for the ride." he muttered, gathering his bag and clamouring out of the car

He made it all the way to his yard before I rolled down my window, my hands clammy.

"Hey!" he turnd around, surprised, "Thanks…for everything tonight."

He didn't say anything, which made me feel a little better about the awkwardness, but nodded with a small smile. Then he ducked into his house and I drove home alone.



"You're all brute strength." I teased, pushing him back lightly, "You need to learn to move."

Our friendship seemed to grow at an exponential rate after that night. I took a special interest in his training, helping him hone in on skills he didn't even know he had.

"I am moving." he panted, his feet moving up and down quickly

"But you're not really moving. You've got to sense where your opponent is going to strike."

I dropped down from the edge of the ring, poking him first in the side, then the shoulder, then the chest, then the other side. He fought to block me but I moved quickly, fluidly. He stopped moving, frowning and brushing the sweat from his face with the towel around his neck.

"Why would I waste my time with that when I can win with strength?" he muttered, grabbing my arms and pinning them behind me

"Because you never know when your opponent will outsmart you." I replied simply

And in the next moment I had my legs around his neck, spinning behind him and knocking him face first into the ground. He groaned, staying on the ground for a few moments.

"Camilla?" I glanced back in time to see my dad walk towards the ring, frowning. The past few weeks had been tough, tougher than ever.

"Who's that?" his eyes shifted to Tommy as he climbed to his feet

"Aw, you know me, Bob. It's Tommy."

Tommy had a way with my dad that I couldn't understand. He grinned, leaning hard against the ring and staring down at the shell of my dad standing below him. And my dad stared right back, a smile gracing his features. It was hard to make dad smile lately and somehow Tommy did it so effortlessly.

"Tommy. Oh…yeah." he glanced back at me

"What's wrong, Da…Bob?"

"I'm going for a walk…but I can't find my jacket." he looked around helplessly, "I need my jacket. I…I'm going for a walk so…"

There was something so desperate in the way he asked for help sometimes. Something almost child like. It made me feel like throwing up. My childhood hero, hell my hero for my entire life, was crumbling before my eyes. But before I could speak, Tommy was taking over.

"I'll help ya out, Bob. C'mon, it's probably in the back."

Tommy jumped down from the ring, grabbing the ends of the towel around his neck as he walked beside Dad. Their pace was slow, mostly because my dad forgot to bring his cane with him, and they chatted like old friends might. I took a deep breath, settling myself, and then ducked under the ropes around the ring.

I meant to go check on Dad, on Tommy, but the gym was nearly closing and there were people that required my attention. Twenty minutes later and Tommy was waiting alone at the front of the gym, waiting for me.

"Where'd he go?" I mumbled, dragging my fingers through my hair

"He wanted to leave. I got him a taxi back to the nursing home."

I didn't ask how he knew that he stayed at a nursing home. I didn't even ask how he figured out which nursing home he was in. I just frowned, staring down at the ground for a moment as I shifted from foot to foot.

"You didn't have to do that." I whispered, "Here…" I rummaged in my purse for a twenty.

"Don't." he touched my hand, "It's fine."

I sighed, dragging my purse back onto my shoulder. I ducked back into the office to grab a few things and then locked the door behind me, nodding towards the front door. Tommy led the way, pushing the door oepn.

"Where's your jacket?" I paused in the doorway, my eyebrows furrowing

"What's it matter?" he replied grumpily, turning away

"It's snowing, Tommy." I sighed

"I know." he glanced back with a smirk

I shook my head, shrugging and heading out into the snow. We both jogged, sliding and laughing, over to the car and collapsed against the side as I fumbled with the keys. I'd given him a ride home every night since that night he'd saved me. It was the least I could do.

We collapsed inside, cheeks rusty, grins infectious. He shivered and I turned on the heat as fast as I could, blasting it. We drove slow, despite Tommy's constant complaining and making fun of me. Halfway there I stopped, right in the middle of the road, and hit him, starting a cat fight that lasted a few minutes too long. He laughed, shielding himself as I went to smack him again.

"Stop.critizing.my.driving." I shouted, pushing against him

"Stop driving like an old lady then!"

I stuck out my tongue and he rolled his eyes, settling back against his seat as I started to drive again.

"Let's get coffee." he suddenly piped up, glancing over

"I've got coffee at home. Why would I waste my money on some store's cheap crap?" I snorted

He was silent for a moment and I vaguely wondered if I'd hurt his feelings. At the turn to take him home I sighed, continuing on straight and earning a confused expression from Tommy.

"You missed the turn." he muttered

"I know."

"Where're you going?"

"You said you wanted coffee." I replied, not glancing over (though a smile had made it's way back on my face all the same)

There was no parking right out front of my house so I had to park down the street. We both stumbled out of the car, trying to beat the other to the house at the end of the street. I pushed him lightly and he barreled into me in return, shoving us both into the snow.

Without a jacket, I couldn't imagine how cold he really was. I quickly yanked him to his feet, dragging us both over to the front porch and up the icy steps. He caught me once when I slipped on the top step, pulling me tight against him, and then we both rushed forward to the front door.

I unlocked it and we fell inside, clinging to each other. The wave of heat was enough to knock me back but Tommy couldn't get enough of it. I fell out of my jacket, throwing it on the coat rack, and leading him into the living room.

"You're freezing." I muttered as he followed along, his bare arm brushing agaisnt mine

He shrugged, like it didn't really matter, and collapsed on the couch with a thud. I grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around him as tightly as I could, and then went into the kitchen to make some much needed coffee.

Ten minutes later and I had two steaming mugs of coffee brewed and Tommy's lips were looking a little less blue. I sunk down on the couch next to him, handing off a mug. He was still cold, I could tell by the way he shivered every once and a while, and his cheeks were still ruddy, but he seemed happy nonetheless.

"Thanks." he balanced the mug in one hand and used the other to drag the blanket closer to him

"Don't mention it." I replied, sinking back against the couch and closing my eyes

"I don't see how you're not cold." he murmured, setting his cup on the table beside the couch to use both hands to clutch at the blanket around him

"I wore a jacket." I teased, glancing over with a smirk

"Yeah, yeah." he replied, shivering hard again

I flipped on the TV, setting my mug aside as I scanned through the channels. Tommy sat quietly beside me, trying to bundle himself tighter, fold himself in to keep his body warmth constant.

Nothing was on but I left it on the cooking channel out of habit, naturally leaning against Tommy's shoulder with a yawn. It took him seconds to wrap me up in his arms, cocoon me in what should have been warmth but was still very cold.

"J-Jesus you're cold." I stuttered, complaining as I shifted to a more comfortable position in his lap

"Mhm." he groaned into my neck, burying his face and using me for my warmth

I flinched but tried to relax, leaning against his chest. He breathed tickled down my neck, making me squirm to get away, but his arms were steady, heavy. I had nowhere to go. I shifted closer automatically, feeling his heart beat against me in solid tune.

"Cam?" he breathed the nickname against my neck and my toes curled

"Tommy?" I whispered in response as he lifted his head to look at me

His face was flushed slightly, his nose a few centimeters from mine. Already he was beginning to heat up, his arms tightening around me slightly. When had he gotten so warm? So close?

He paused, long enough to meet my gaze and then let his eyes travel down to my lips and back up again. And then, without warning, he pulled me towards him and pressed his lips against mine.

I thought I would push him away, it was the natural thing to do. He was, after all, Tommy. Smug, cynical, closed off, Tommy. But instead, I kissed him back, harder.

His hands were at my back before I knew it, fingertips pressed into the dimples above my pants. He pushed me back against the couch, the blanket falling from his shoulders as he held himself up, the muscles in his arms flexing powerfully. It made something flutter inside me momentarily, the fact that this creature could snap me like a twig at any moment.

But then I yanked him down to me, brought his lips back to mine. He put one hand beside my head to hold himself up, the other grabbed at my hip, pulling me against him. It was tight, hot, static. His left arm collapsed and he crushed down on me with a grunt, pinning me to the couch.

In a fluid motion he dragged himself closer, kissing my neck and shoulder and collarbones before coming back and nipping at my bottom lip. His right hand ran down my thigh, clutching tight, hard.

"T-Tommy." I stammered, fingers biting against him

He paused, hot breath on my neck, and then dragged himself away from me. There was a moment of silence between us, the TV blaring something about flipping omelettes before they get burnt. And then he seemed to internally shake himself and he pulled away completely. He took a deep breath, his dark eyes a complete mystery to me.

"I…I should go home." he muttered and I frowned, watching him walk to the front door

"At least let me drive you home." I whispered, "It's snowing."

It looked like he was going to fight, to say he'd rather walk than be in a car with me. But he didn't. He sighed, hanging his head, and waited for me to right my clothes and grab my shoes. We rode the few blocks to his house in silence, never saying a word.



"Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Right."

The punching bag thudded loudly against his knuckles, rocking back and forth as he slammed against it.

"Uppercut!" I yelled and he punched it again, grunting hard

"Duck. Right. Left. Keep jogging, Tommy."

He glared over slightly but picked his feet up, sweat pouring from his face. I counted down thirty more seconds from the stop watch and then held up my hand to stop. He panted, heavy, and I handed him a water bottle from my perch beside the punching bag.

"You're getting faster." I mused, tucking the pocket watch back into my jacket

"I damn well better be getting something." he complained sarcastically, poking me before squirting more water into his mouth

It had been three weeks since the awkward kiss but it was still fresh in my mind, almost always present. We never brought it up, never talked about it. Instead, we resumed our friendship (albeit moody and frustrating freiendship) where we'd left off before: driving each other insane for fun.

"You think I'll win?" he pondered, nodding towards the poster against the wall

Recently he'd gotten it into his head that if he fought professionally one more time, with a grand prize of $400,000, he'd never have to fight (or work) again.

"With me as your coach? Of course." I grinned and he rolled his eyes in return, punching the bag a few more times

"You'll be there for the fight then?" he grunted, swinging hard

"Wouldn't miss it." I replied, leaning back slightly

And it was the truth. I wouldn't. I couldn't. Regardless of what we admitted to each other, I knew I cared for him more than I cared for just about anyone. He was my frustrating, obnoxious, overly confident friend. And I would have taken a bullet for him (and, admittedly, probably graze him with a bullet to get him to shut up).

"C'mon. Again." he mumbled, pushing the back of my head to get my attention and then facing the punching bag again

"You are so frustrating." I hissed, crossing my arms

"Yeah…sexually frustrating." he laughed and then paused

And just like that I thought about that stupid night. My cheeks almost burned, I could feel them. Why couldn't I just forget about it? We didn't say anything though and he started hitting the bag again. I resumed my position more comfortably and continued barking orders.

"Camilla?"

I glanced back in time to see my dad sticking his head out from the office, unsure whether he should walk outside again. I frowned, nodding to Tommy slightly, and then jogged over to the office door, slipping inside.

"How…how did I get like this?"

He glanced around the room and my insides shifted hard, my breath catching. He had turned over the chair and most of the things on the desk were strewn across the floor.

"I didn't always need this!" he insisted, throwing his cane down on the ground

"I know, Dad." I whispered

He glanced over, sad, distraught. He didn't know who I was. And there was no way for me to remind him. He glanced down at the wedding ring, the one memory of my mother that was left for both of us, but his eyes no longer held the same love he'd had for it.

"It's all right." I murmured, "C'mon, sit down."

"I don't want to sit down!" he roared, shoving books from one of the bookcases in the corner, "I…I…I was a strong man once. I worked hard every day. How did I…what happened to me?"

He trailed off, sinking down to the ground with a sob and covering his face with his large, wrinkled hands. Tears were already falling down my cheeks as well as I knelt in front of him, rubbing his shoulder. He shook terribly, his shoulders shivering. An old, defeated man. My dad.

"It's going to be okay." I whispered, "I'm going to make sure it's okay."

He didn't look at me, just looked down at his hands like he was confused, like they didn't belong to him. I wondered what it was like to wake up every day, unsure as to who you are, whose body you were in, whose room, whose gym.

"I…I was a strong man once." he repeated sadly, hanging his head

Tommy's shadow crossed over us as we sat in the rubble of his tantrum, never saying a word. I pulled my dad to his feet and Tommy came to his other side, helping me take him outside to the car. The three of us drove in silence, other than the occasional incoherent mumble from my dad in the back as he stared out at the city he once called home.

I took him back to the nursing home, signing him back in, while Tommy waited outside in the snow. By the time I came back out I was weighted down, miserable. Tommy didn't say anything. He crossed over to where I'd made it (not very far from the door, my feet refusing to work).

I stood numb, unsure, and he wrapped his arms around me. I went against his chest without a struggle, the first sobs escaping past my lips. He held me there for what seemed like hours as I sobbed, my legs shaking. I sobbed and clung to the front of his jacket until I didn't have anything left. And then he drove me home, put me in bed, and walked back to his apartment alone.



I sat silently beside the empty hospital bed with my hands in my lap, my head hung. The bed was made up, corners pressed tightly against the edges, folded perfectly and precisely. Folded. Just like my world was folding in.

I turned slightly to stare out the window, at all the snow that was clinging to the edges ot the glass and sputtering down to the ground below, three stories down. It clung to it's domain, unafraid of the sun that was sure to eventually come back. It had to come back. Right?

Why was I so cold?

I glanced at the heart monitor, the empty, black screen. No life. Nothing. The only thing that gathered any of my attention was the cardboard box at the end of the bed. Decaying cardboard for decaying things.

An old photo album I'd never looked through, a missing boxing glove that didn't fit my father and a jacket that belonged to Tommy. A framed picture of my mother that Dad never looked at, a box of cufflinks he never wore. Unimportant things that meant everything now.

In his last moments, dad forgot everything. His name, where he was, who I was. It was selfish really, to place so much emphasis on that one little fact. After all, the man didn't even know what planet he was on. Why would he know his own daughter?

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to my feet before I lost the momentary courage, and grabbed the stupid cardboard box the nurses had filled for me. It pressed tightly against my stomach and made me feel something, finally. The corners were too sharp and they bit into my elbows, causing sore patches as I swayed in the elevator.

I made it to the front desk and then out into the snow without a comment or expression crossing my stony face. I got to the car, slipping hard on the ice and dropping down to one knee. The box teetered in my hands but never fell and I clutched it tight, gasping as I shoved it too hard into my abdomen.

I shoved it into the backseat hastily, choking, and collapsed into the drivers seat. The parking lot was empty except for two or three cars, all void of their owners. Here, finally alone, finally having let everything sink in, the first tears began to fall. I slammed my fist against the wheel, gasping hard when the horn beeped on contact.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fucking fair. Why did he have to die? Couldn't someone else have paid the price? Someone atrocious and deserving of death. Not him. Not dad. What did he do to deserve this? What had I done to deserve this?

I cried, my head pressed against the steering wheel, fists clenched hard in my lap, until my body gave up. I had no more tears left to cry, not yet. Not for now. I hiccuped, my insides tightening uncomfortably, and then viciously wiped away the tears with the sleeve of my too-thin jacket.

I started the car mechnically, twisting the key with too much ferocity. The engine roared to life and I flinched hard, sighing. The drive back home was long, harder than I thought it would be. It gave me too much time to think, too much time to glance back at the box in the backseat (which, admittedly, I should have put in the trunk).

By the time I reached my street I was tired of driving and tired of sitting and tired of everything. I took a left when I should have taken a right, backtracking a few miles to the darkest, smallest, most sketchy looking pub I could find.

I had two drinks, small ones really, and then picked a fight with a shifty-looking man with a pedo 'stache. A cut cheek and bruised knuckles later, I was kicked out into the snowy air. I clamoured back into the car, turning on the engine again and searched for another bar.

It made me feel good. Made me feel something. I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn't take advantage of people because I was having a bad day/week/month/year…

But I couldn't help it.

The next bar was less crowded and I sat down on a barstool, ordering a vodka tonic. A greasy man sat down beside me, eyeing me up and down with a smirk across his face. Unlucky victim number two.

"Hey baby you wan-…"

I stood up, downing the rest of my drink and then turned to face him with a cocked, forced smile. He grinned back, yellowing teeth showing through. My knuckles stung from the impact against his jaw, the bruises opening into cuts. He whirled backwards out of his chair, face first into the ground.

The bouncer came out of nowhere, twisting my arm behind my back and shoving me back over to the front door. He tossed me out roughly and I landed against the icy sidewalk with a yelp, hands and knees stinging painfully.

I slowly rose to my feet, feeling the imminent onslaught of tears pressing against my eyes, before shuffling over to the car again and sinking into the drivers seat. I stayed there for a few minutes, staring out the windshield at the snowflakes that slowly fell.

It was silent. Too silent. I could almost hear the hammering of my heart, could almost feel the trickle of blood as it went down my cheek to my jaw. I could feel everything. And it hurt. God damnit it hurt.

I started the car again, driving slowly back home. I parked outside my house, leaving the box behind in the backseat and shuffling up to the porch. Tommy was there, it shouldn't have surprised me, huddled against the porch post with his jacket wrapped around his shoulders. It made me hurt for a moment but then I felt my senses slipping.

"I heard what happened." he mumbled, standing, "I'm really sorry, Cam."

I shrugged, unable to speak, but took a few steps up the porch to meet him.

"Get in a fight?" he asked, brushing his thumb against her cheek

I nodded, still silent. And then I leaned forward and pressed my face against his chest with a shudder. He wrapped his arms around me naturally, pulling me towards the front door in the process.

"C'mon, you're freezing."

I couldn't feel it. He led me to the door and I pulled out the key, sticking it into the hole and twisting hard, rigid. The door swung open with a creak and he pulled me inside, closing the door behind us.

"I brought beer." he added uncertainly, "But we don't…"

"Perfect." I mumbled quietly, "I could use a drink."

He seemed torn for a moment, as though maybe he thought I shouldn't, but then cracked open the case and handed me a bottle. I sunk into the living room couch, dropping my coat on the ground as I went. Tommy hung it up, hanging his own jacket before sitting beside me.

"Wanna talk about it?" he mumbled, looking uncomfortable

"No."

I cracked the bottle cap off, throwing the bottle back and sucking down the liquid. It foamed unnaturally in my stomach, mixing with the liquor I'd already had. It hurt my insides and I liked it that way. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel something at least.

We both huddled close on the couch in silence, legs pressed together on one side. I leaned towards him and he carried my weight, carried the pain, carried my mind. I wanted to be free of it all and he took it, welcomed it.

"I really am sorry, Cam." he whispered, arm snaking around me to pull me closer, "If there's anything…seriously, whatever you need."

I had nothing to say. My dad was dead. What was there to say? Was there even anything to really say at a time like this? In some sick way, I wondered if it might be better this way. My dad, so sick and tired and sad, was finally free.

"He's all right." I breathed, "Wherever he is…if he is anywhere…he's all right."

And I believed it. Tommy nodded, squeezing me again, and we both set about finishing the twelve pack he'd brought over.

Four more beers in and I was beginning to relax. I sat on the floor with Tommy, crosslegged, watching him. His facial muscles got looser when he drank, he smiled more easily. It made me feel warm when he smiled, made me sort of feel…whole.

"You're my best friend."

"Oh don't start with the drunk confessions." he whined, leaning back on his left hand and using his other to down beer number seven

"Why not?" I huffed, drunk, "I'm allowed to."

He sighed, shrugging slightly and nodding too. It appeased me for the moment and I sighed, running my fingers through my hair to get rid of the knots.

"You shouldn't fight." he mumbled after a moment, leaning forward to drag his thumb across the cut on my cheek

"You fight all the time." I retorted, rolling my eyes

"It's not the same." he complained, frowning hard

"You worried about me?" I snorted slightly

"Yeah." he leaned back

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." he replied with a little more emphasis

"Why?" I cocked my head to the side

"Because I care about you." he paused, "Because you're my best friend too." and it was silent for a moment after that as we both stared each other down

"You never kissed me again." I murmured, frowning again

"I didn't think…"

"Well, you thought wrong." I replied, looking away

"I did?" he was smiling and it made my already flushed cheeks burn intensely

"Yeah, you did." I pouted slightly, finishing the beer in front of me and standing to carry the empty bottle into the kitchen

I tossed it into the recycling can, leaning hard against the counter and sighing, staring past the window panes as the snow floated down. I could hear Tommy walking closer, feel him behind me. He rested his hands on either side of me on the counter, dragging himself closer without grabbing me.

His chest pressed against my back slowly and he leaned down to brush his lips against my shoulder and then on up my neck. I closed my eyes, leaning back into him, letting him wrap his arms around me from behind.

And it felt right. Out of everything that had happened that night, something finally felt right. He held me close for a moment, completely silent. I twisted around in his arms, staring up as he rested his hands on my hips.

"Kiss me." I whispered, "Please."

He lowered his lips to mine without question, his hands raising to tangle in my hair and drag me closer. His tongue trailed across my bottom lip and then he was grabbing me, lifting me up by my thighs and slamming us both back onto the counter.

My legs wrapped around his naturally as I clawed at his shirt, ripping it over his head. I hit the back of the cabinets hard, unable to care about the bruises that would surely surface in the morning. I threw his shirt down, reconnecting our lips in seconds. Our chests pressed together as he pulled me closer, yanking me away from the counter and back down to the ground again.

"Upstairs." I breathed, pushing his hard

He picked me up again and I clung to him as he made it up the stairs, drilling us both into the bed. I managed to scramble back to the head of the bed before he pinned me back again, lips finding mine in the dark.

His hands were warm against my skin but goosebumps erupted anyway when he slipped them beneath my shirt, pulling it over my head. My toes curled as he unclasped my bra, starting on my pants in the same fluid motion.

I flipped over on top of him, stripping him on his own clothes as well and sucking hard on his neck, no doubt leaving a spot he'd have to explain to the boys at the gym tomorrow. He gasped slightly, fingers wandering over new patches of skin. He turned back over, pausing momentarily to stare down at me, the moonlight dancing over my pale skin.

And then he was back, grasping, twisting, moving, turning. My mouth opened automatically as he drove himself deep but no sound escaped, my insides trembling. His muscles flexed with each movement and I dug my fingers in, clinging to him, enjoying the fact that he seemed so invincible, so strong.

No words, just velvety sounds that escaped past our lips, explaining things we didn't know how to say. I didn't even know I was making noise half the time, my face pressed hot, tight against his shoulder or my lips trailing along his jaw to his juglar.

And then, when our bodies couldn't take anymore, he stopped, his body shuddering hard against my own. I held him there, fingertips naturally tracing along his spine, before he slipped over to the side and cocooned me, falling asleep.



I wanted the fairytale to end after that. I wanted things to get better and better, to be able to enjoy each others company more and more. I felt things for Tommy I'd never felt before, emotions I'd pushed away for most of my life. He made me a better person, kept me sane when I thought I was going to go crazy, taught me what it was to be a real person.

But some demons are impossible to quell and Tommy had more than a few of his own. I watched him from afar, battling the past (and often times losing). He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to admit anything was wrong.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the mirror in front of me with little emotion. I was done with emotions. My eyes were done crying.

I heard the front door open before I saw the hall light turn on, heard him stumble hard as he fought to throw his boots off. I didn't move, just stared straight ahead into the mirror, a little off to the side so I didn't have to look at my face.

He crashed through the bedroom door, wasted, eyes unfocused. And then they landed on me and his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned hard against the doorframe.

"Why're you still up?" he slurred, frowning

"Waiting on you." I replied simply, tersely

"You should've gone to bed." he replied and I glanced over sharply

"Had a fun night?" I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest as he collapsed back on the bed

"Look, I'm not in the mood for this. I don't need this." he replied, closing his eyes

"I don't care." I replied, "I'm tired, Tommy."

"Tired of what?" he slowly opened his eyes, "So I had a few drinks. Get over it."

"Why're you doing this?" I whispered, breath hitching slightly

His eyes narrowed on mine and the frown that had suddenly become so commonplace found it's way onto his face. I scooted closer despite his cold exterior, reaching for him. He sat up though, pulling away from me, glancing towards the door.

"Don't." I breathed, frowning

"I'm going for a walk." he replied, shrugging his way off the bed, "Go to sleep."

He went for the door and something clicked, the fuse was lit. I leapt from the bed, skidding into the hallway and barrelling into him, sending him against the wall.

"Fine! Leave!" I picked up one of his shoes, opening the door in the same motion and tossing it into the front yard, "Don't fucking come back! I don't need this shit!"

I tossed the other one out the door as he righted himself, glaring. I managed to grab his jacket from the coat rack, walking out to the front porch and throwing it into the street.

"You don't want to talk? Fine. Don't ever fucking talk to me again. Leave me alone. Don't come here, don't come to the shop, don't come near me!" I yelled, ignoring the late hour and the fact that the neighbours would wake up

He didn't respond, just walked past me, and that probably hurt worst of all. He didn't put up a fight, never tried to explain himself. He just gathered his things from the front yard and the street and walked down the sidewalk by himself.

I turned, huffing, and slamming the door behind me. It took me a moment to calm down, to realize that I was really alone and that he wasn't going to come back. No one was going to come to the front door knocking, no one was going to come check on me. I told him to go away and he was going to.

I sank down by the front door, knees pressed against my chest, and cried.



I purposely stared down at the paperwork in front of me, shuffling through the pages aimlessly as he walked by, pausing. "No, keep walking." I found myself thinking, keeping my head down with determined focus, "Don't talk to me."

"Cam?"

I didn't want to look up but the nickname stung more than it should have. I managed a quick glance, let him know I'd heard him, and then went back to the paperwork on the desk. He stayed in the doorway of the office, stepping from foot to foot.

"I uh…"

This wasn't the time for him to stumble over his words. Then again, what did I want to hear anyway? I'd been a fool to trust him, a fool to think that this could work out. He took a step closer and then, thinking better of it, took one back.

"I'm sorry." he muttered, "For everything."

I didn't look up, just continued on with the papers, pretending to read them, resorting them. He sighed and I managed to glance over as he ran his hand over his head and back down his neck. He'd gathered his things from his locker like I told him too, packed them in a cardboard box.

"I didn't mean for any of this…I just…I'm sorry." he repeated and then escaped from the office, letting the door close behind him

I waited a few minutes, waited until I was sure he was gone, and then ripped the papers in front of me apart. Tiny scattered pieces of paper fluttered to the ground as I clawed into them. I stopped only when a papercut sliced through my pointer finger, shocking me, and deep red blood ran down my hand.

The pain was enough to set me into a strange calmness and I stayed there in the office in silence for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts. My line of sight naturally drifted to that god damn poster I should have taken down ages ago. The stupid competition Tommy was going to try to win.

The stupid competition I already had a ticket for.



The crowd roared with life, screaming, punching in the air, dancing on chairs. I stayed standing on my seat, hands twisting and turning. I'd managed to turn the brochure into a crumpled mess already, my heart beating wildly.

Tommy's first fight went well enough, despite the fact he didn't have a coach. He didn't have anyone. It still ripped me apart to watch him though, every hit he took, every moment when I thought it might be the end.

He clawed his way through the first fight and then barely made it through the second. I twisted the bottom of my shirt, my hands raw, and stayed where I was standing on the chair as he walked back to the lockers rooms.

And then I was walking past the guards who watched over the lockerooms, ignoring their grunts of dissatisfaction. One tried to grab me but I slipped past him, continued walking (albeit jogging, perhaps) to the locker rooms. I passed other fighters, passed a few losers who stayed hidden in the corners of the room with their head pressed against their hands, and then I saw Tommy.

He was by himself, nursing his own wounds, completely quiet. His side of the locker room was done up by himself, I could tell. There were a couple of chairs, a first aid kit, his clothes in a stack and then, behind it all on the wall, a picture of me.

I froze, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. Tommy was concentrating hard on fixing a cut under his eye, staring into the mirror with determination. Why was I even here? What the fuck was I thinking?

"You're doing it wrong." I muttered, without thinking

He jumped, glancing back with wides eye. Yes, lovely opening line. Maybe I should've added "you're a dipshit" along with it, I thought, punching myself mentally. He remained silent, unsure, eyes scouring over me.

"Here." I tried to make up for the insult by taking away the supplies he was using, turning him around to face me

I sat down in a chair opposite him, brushing the blood away with a sponge. He flinched slightly but didn't move, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched me.

"What are you…"

"The next guy you fight, Rodrigez, he's got a horrible right hook." I muttered, brushing some anti-bleeding salve onto his face, "And if you let him hit you, you'll be on the ground, tapping out before you know it."

Tommy said nothing, just watched me like I wasn't real, like I wasn't actually there. I glanced over at the picture on the wall, a momentary weakness, and then turned back to him, cleaning up another cut on his shoulder.

"Side step him as much as possible and then get in close. He's no good if he can't get in wide swings so crowd up at him." I continued, finished

I silently stood up, dropping the extra supplies with his first aid kit before going back for the door. This had been a stupid decision. Why was I even here? I didn't need these feelings to flutter back to the surface. I didn't need any of this.

"Wait."

He turned me back around, hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place. I looked down at the ground until he brushed his thumb against my cheek, dragging his fingers under my jaw and pulling my face up to see him.

"What do I have to do?" he whispered

"What're you…"

"Damnit, Camilla." he sighed, "I…I need…"

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't want to hear that he needed me, wanted me, had to know what to do to get me back. I closed my eyes, trying to pull away, but he held me in place, fingers curling over my arms, desperate.

"Cam…"

They were calling his name. He was up. Final fight. I managed to open my eyes in time to see that he wasn't even phased. His attention was on me, solely. There was a man in the corner of the locker room yelling at him, telling him he had maybe a minute before they were going to physically drag him out. He didn't even glance over.

"Go." I breathed, trying to smile, "You have a fight to win."

"Come with me." he replied but I shook my head

"I can't." I whispered, "I can't do this."

"I don't have to…I can leave….we…"

"Don't you dare." I breathed, eyebrows furrowing. He wasn't going to give this up for me. I wouldn't let him.

He let me drag myself away and then let this other man, a microphone attached to his head, drag him towards the ring. I coughed, swallowing back tears, and then went back to my seat. Tommy stood on the edge of the ring, breathing deep, watching his other opponent.

And then the fight began.

I climbed down through the crowd and walked off to the edge of the giant stadium, pausing at the doorway. This was it, Tommy was going to fight and regardless of whether he won or lost, it would be the last connection I had with him. I wouldn't be his coach anymore, I wouldn't be anyone to him. This was, in all likelihood, the last time I'd ever see him.

And so I let myself glance back, let my eyes find him in the ring. He ducked under a punch and then looked back at the edge of the ring where a coach might be sitting. I frowned, crossing my arms.

"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered as the other guy swung, hitting him hard

Tommy was on the ground in moments and was pinned nearly seconds after that. His hand hovered over the ground and even from far away I could see the expression on his face. Suddenly, my feet were moving without my say so, ducking through the crowd in the front rows. He's going to tap, he's going to give up.

I shoved a man out of my way, making my way to the edge of the ring and clinging to the metal fencing.

"Don't you fucking dare, Tommy!" I yelled, shaking the fencing with ferocity, "Don't you dare!"

He managed to glance up, cringing, and then closed his hand into a fist and writhed back and forth. Eventually, he managed to shake Rodrigez off him, shoving him away and clamouring to the side. The horn sounded and I sprinted inside, shoving him into his seat and squirting water into his mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, brushing sweat away with a towel, "Focus. Focus!"

I grabbed his chin and made sure he was paying attention. His eyes were bright, staring into mine with an intensity I hadn't seen in a long time. He was nearly shaking, his fingertips reaching out to touch my face. He looked like he wanted to say something but there was nothing to say.

The horn blew again and I staggered away, holding onto the metal fencing around the ring as it started again. I shook my head, frowning, and then focused on the fight again.

"Crowd him!" I screamed, slamming my palm against the fence, "Push him against the fence and crowd him!"

And Tommy did what he was told. He barreled into the man, pushing him back and back and back until he was tight against the fence. His wide swings meant nothing here and Tommy pummeled into him, one punch right after the other.

Rodrigez wasn't going to go down without a fight, hell none of them were. He hit Tommy hard and he fell back, wheezing in a breath and cringing. My fingers bit into the metal fence again as Tommy got hit, again and again. The cut above his eyebrow reopened and blood trickled down his cheek. He grunted, shoving Rodrigez away in time for another break.

I was in the ring as the horn stopped blowing, trying to focus. My hands shook hard as I wiped away the blood, tried to stem the flow. Tommy looked tired, resigned. And I didn't really blame him. I grabbed his face in both my hands, making him look at me.

"You can do this." I whispered

"For you." he breathed as they dragged me away, closing the ring behind me

I stumbled back to my spot on the side, climbing up as high as they'd let me. Tommy bounced on the balls of his feet, back and forth, and then went in hard. Tme seemed to slow after that. Tommy took one step back and Rodrigez took the bait, coming forward. He pulled his right arm up and back and then slammed it forward. Rodrigez crumpled, out cold.

I was running, slipping into the ring before anyone else could get there. Tommy turned, expected me, and I ran straight into him. He staggered back slightly and then grabbed me, pulled me against him.

Despite the blood and sweat, I let him, encouraged him. He rested his forehead against mine, his hands in my hair, the gloves tugging. It was in that moment, when I stared up at him, that I realized he was crying. And then I realized I was crying too.

I clasped my hands around his face, holding him close to my own as tears rushed down my cheeks. He coughed, brushing against one side of his face with the back of his gloved hand. His eyes squinted slightly as tears squeezed out and he wrapped an arm around me, holding me closer.

"I love you."

He breathed it, centimeters from my face. I collapsed to my knees, sobbing, and he quickly followed, cocooning me. I let him kiss me, again and again and again, despite the flashing lights around us.

"I love you, Cam." he repeated, putting his hands on either side of my face, a small smile cracking across his generally tough exterior

"I love you." I whispered, grinning stupidly

The official lifted his hand up as he knelt there before be, his other arm wrapped around me, keeping me in place. The crowd, all but forgotten in the moment, roared to life around us. I managed to glance away from Tommy for a moment and then back, watched the expression on his face.

It was over. He'd made it. We'd made it. And that's all that mattered.