Defector

He's walking on eggshells around me. I study his movements as he prepares breakfast across from me. He's abnormally quiet possibly due to my nighttime confession.

He doesn't trust me. Why should he? I haven't given him one reason to trust me. Better he doesn't since I will most likely betray him in the end.

I have my reasons why I came back. As much as I want to push him away, it's almost like my subconscious is forcing me to go back to him, be with him. I find myself no longer studying him like my subject, but rather staring in admiration. His motions are fluid, but stiff as though he's uncomfortably aware I'm watching him intensely. He sneaks a glance every few seconds only to find me still staring.

He clears his throat as though he wants to speak, but in the space where his voice should be is replaced by his ringing phone. He takes the call quickly, hoping to avoid conversation with me. I twiddle my thumbs and pick at the skin underneath my nails until Logan informs me that we're heading to The Tunnel. I eyeball him then to the breakfast he was preparing which he shrugs, handing me a plate with a slice of toast and an egg. He distances himself from me skipping his morning meal to get ready for the day.

I scarf down the moderately warm breakfast which reminds me of Bobby's greasy breakfast food. Feelings of remorse hit me as I realize all I've left behind. I made a new life for myself in that quaint little town. I think of Ryan and how he appeared as I walked out on him, my only friend in my other life. I turned my back on him. I should've told him it was a habit of mine. There was Bobby who willingly accepted me as one of his own even though he knew I carried an excessive amount of baggage. And Big Sal who was terrifyingly tall, but had an even bigger heart to match. Too bad I startled him half to death when I grabbed my knife and took it out onto the floor.

My other life was fine the way it was, but sooner or later I was going to have to stop pretending I fit in. I had to go back to finish what I started. Face the devil, herself, head on and stop hiding from her. Everything she's done to me, to Logan, to all the others she's destroyed. No, I'm here for her and I won't give up until it's just one of us standing.

Unknowingly, I've bent my fork to an unusable angle. I hear Logan shuffling down the hall and I quickly fix it to appear as nothing happened. He hurries me out the door and to the car so we can get to The Tunnel. The ride is insufferably silent. I search my brain for something to say, but fall short of words. I reprimand myself for opening my mouth last night. Things would've been fine if I didn't let my guard down. I was perfectly fine being intolerable and rude to him, in fact, I liked it. I enjoyed being nasty to him and shutting him out, something he grew accustomed to before I left. He shut me out whenever things got difficult or he didn't want to discuss the blonde bitch who terrorizes me on a regular basis. I didn't give him a pass, nor did he give me one. Still the role reversal was satisfying to say the least.

He leaves my side, but keeps a secure eye on me once we're inside The Tunnel. I'm his subject now. I see his wheels turning trying to decipher the mystery of the girl he loved and lost. Hunter discusses something with him on the other side of the room while I casually walk around the training room figuring out my next move. No one trusts me, not after yesterday. What could I do to gain trust? Something so hard to gain, but easy to lose. I'm not a people person anymore. I'd rather fight than be friends, especially after what happened with Lia.

Xaron and other rebels file into the training room. Xaron shyly approaches me eyeing down my wrapped up hand before making contact with my eyes. He politely asks if I'd spar with him again today as it's an uneven number of recruits and he'd rather not fight Logan again. I shrug flashing my injured hand to him then tossing it aside accepting his offer.

We take to the mat and begin. His swings are wide and wild, like he's not even trying. With my dominant hand unusable, I mostly dodge. I get a few hits in, but my priority is watching him. Xaron was better than me, I wonder what happened. I debate about taunting him, but choose to keep my mouth shut and focused on the task at hand. Xaron still refuses to use his feet which slightly irritates me. Why would you not use your strength in a fight you're losing? I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

"What? Are you okay?" Xaron asks sweat dripping from his brow.

"Why aren't you using your feet?" I ask gripping my sore hand. He gives me a questionable face as though he's unaware of what I'm talking about. "Your strength is in your kicks, but you don't use them, why?"

"Oh!" He's taken aback by my question. "I, uhh, don't know. I find kicks awkward. I don't do them correctly. I've tried them on the bag," he points to the sand bag in the corner, "and Brestion said my technique was poor." I unintentionally groan, rolling my eyes.

"Did he at least show you what to do or help you fix it so it's not so awkward?" Xaron shakes his head. I grab his arm and take him to the bag in the corner. "Show me what you got."

Xaron looks at me then at the bag nervous about demonstrating his "poor technique". He kicks the bag once and then looks to me as though I have the solution after one shy, wimpy kick. I tell him to do it again, but actually put effort into it. Xaron has kicked me before while we were sparring and it was powerful and intense. Sure, it could've used some work, but out of all his hits that one was incredibly amazing.

He performs another kick only this time it's better and more realistic. I see that the problem is in his weight shift. It throws off his balance making him feel "awkward" and ineffective. I show him what his kick looked like and ask him what seemed wrong. Once he figures it out, I explain how he can better his balance and shift his weight in a more effective way. After a few attempts, his kicks are improving. Xaron thanks me and walks away.

I push the sand bag back into the corner and turn around where I'm startled by Logan standing directly in front of me. He stares down at me intimidatingly with his arms folded. I stare up with a smirk on face challenging him. He keeps an intense stare before cracking a small smile and giving me a teasing shove.

He used to do that to me when he was training me. He'd instruct heavily, correct excessively, and would drill over and over until my body ached. Then he'd tower over me making me feel an inch tall before giving me an approving smile and a slight shove as a "reward" for my good work.

He's trying. He wants things to seem normal with me here even if they're not. He wants me to feel accepted and wanted even if I'm not. He's the only one trying and for that I give him credit. Unlike the bruise faced cretin who storms in the training room.

"You brought her back here?" Drax asks Logan.

"I couldn't necessarily keep her locked up in my house now could I?" Logan smirks as Hunter nudges him in agreement.

"Nobody wants her here." Drax continues to speak as though I'm not in the room.

"I do." Quela announces from behind him.

"So do I." Logan answers quickly after.

"And me." Hunter wags his finger so he's counted in the nonexistent tally. "It was my idea to get her back here and I'm not sorry about it." Hunter shoves Drax before turning to the rest of the room. "If any of you have a problem with her, you take it up with me." He walks toward them. "Because like it or not, she is one of us and always will be one of us. If you don't like it, you can get the fuck out now." The room falls silent and motionless. After an agonizingly long pause, Hunter folds his arms across his chest. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page." He points to the door. "Now get out!"

The quiet group quickly scurries out of the room leaving just the five of us alone. Drax stalks toward me, but is grabbed suddenly by Hunter.

"That goes for you, too." He scowls. "If you don't like that she's here, feel free to leave. And don't you ever come back." Hunter stalks out of the room. Quela looks at us with apologetic eyes before following after him.

Logan motions me to follow him out of the room which I happily accept since I'd rather not be left alone with Drax. He steps in front of me though, blocking the exit.

"You may have everyone else fooled, but I know what you've done. I don't think even Fierce would forgive you for allowing one of Casandra's eyes to fuck you. What was his name again?" Drax taunts me with a grin that extends ear to ear. I grab onto his shirt and throw him into the wall behind him. "Careful, Cherry, you're on thin ice." I disregard my sore hand and punch him directly on the previous bruise this fist has left on his cheek bone.

"Who told you, you son of a bitch?" He smirks keeping his lips pursed together. I feel rage pumping through my body as tears well up in my eyes. I punch him a few more times feeling the pain in my hand finally letting the tears escape down my cheeks.

I feel two large hands on my biceps pulling me off of Drax and out of the room. I'm escorted down the hall and out the backdoor. I step outside staring at the stairs allowing the tears to continue to fall. The hands turn me around and pull me into the person who owns them. Logan wraps his arms around me allowing me to cry it out into his chest.

This isn't like me. I've been bottling up my emotions for years now. Filing them away and locking them up. I've trained myself to be stone cold. What is happening to me? Why do I feel so vulnerable? It was him. It had to be.

It matters to me what he thinks. I couldn't even begin to tell him everything that happened while I was gone. I couldn't even tell him why I was so upset. What makes matters worse is Drax knows about one of my nightmares. What else does he know? And how long will it be until he tells Logan?

"I'm sorry." I manage to weep out and utter clearly enough for him to understand.

"You don't have to apologize for everything, Phoe." He squeezes me tightly. "What'd he say to you?" I swallow hard. I can't lie. He'll know, but I can't tell him the truth either. I'm quiet for a moment deciding the best choice of words I can scramble together to make a vague answer.

"He was just being an asshole." Which was true. It was a downright asshole thing to do bringing him up knowing he'd get a rise out of me. Logan seems to take it as an acceptable answer and doesn't pry.

"You going to be okay to go back in there?" I keep my mouth shut to avoid the lie. Instead I nod my head in affirmation.

"I just need a minute to collect myself." He takes one step toward the door before turning back to me suspiciously. I can't help, but laugh. "I'm not going to run off." He stares at me for a few seconds before going back inside.

I stare at the deserted street contemplating running away. No, I'm tired of running away from my problems. I'm tired of being pushed around by people. I'm done being haunted by the ghosts of my past mistakes. I chose to come back here for one reason and one reason alone, Casandra. I'm not going to let any of this distract me from my task.

I take a deep breath and turn to face the door.

Focus.