Back to the roots (Artemis)

One would think, that now that the Reaping was over, turnout at the Career Training Centers would slow down while the families whose children escaped were celebrating, and the unfortunate chosen ones would be spending their next couple weeks glued to the screen.

You'd think that, but it turned out not to be the case, at least not for District 2.

Which was how he found himself across the district; perhaps it was parents and kids who were training with the intent of getting accepted next year, to place higher in the Pre-Games or simply to be prepared if the worst came to pass and no volunteers stepped up. Either way, Nolan was finding himself suddenly very busy. Everyone and their brother wanted to learn hand-to-hand combat, how to grapple, how to fight with a sword.

The lattermost had earned him a free ticket across the district.

Brody had been excited for him, joking that if anyone managed to beat Nolan he'd have to come kick that kid's ass. Duty called, unfortunately, and so far his son hadn't been able to visit him at the training center; he'd promised to make some time for his dad before he left to go back home.

In the meantime, Nolan had his hands full.

"Again."

Nolan was attempting to teach three kids --two boys and a girl-- at the same time in swordsmanship; the oldest was a boy of no more than 16, the middle was his sister of about 13, and a little 10-year-old boy had wandered over to watch the matches when Nolan had offered to put a sword in his hand.

The youngest was a natural. The oldest, not so much.

"It doesn't work!" The boy grouched, holding his hard-rubber training sword in a white-knuckled grip.

"It does," Nolan replied patiently, "But your opponent in the arena isn't going to stand in one place and wait for you to hit them. You have to learn to adapt."

The boy scowled, not pleased that Nolan wasn't going to let him off the hook or take it easy on him.

"C'mon, one more go." He coaxed, "If you can land a hit on me, I'll show you something cool."

That got his interest; they'd been working on the wrap shot for hours now, and the oldest boy was growing more and more frustrated and impatient with his lack of progress. He wanted to be able to best an instructor in combat, but apparently no one had bothered to instill the concept of patience and practice into him.

The boy charged with a yell, swinging entirely too wide at Nolan; he easily parried, tapping him in the ribs as he passed.

"Remember, controlled movements; the sword is an extension of your arm, not a bat."

His student turned on his heel, angered but determined with the prospect of moving onto something more interesting. He charged again, this time keeping the sword closer to his body as he swung; Nolan dodged and blocked, and when the kid stepped forward off his dominant foot, he fought back and knocked the sword from his hands.

"Told you it doesn't work." The boy growled.

"It will with practice." He reminded Nolan so much of Brody, when he'd been much younger. "Take a break, get some water. We'll try again in a little bit."

Nolan had only just stepped out of the ring when some kid learning hand-to-hand combat let out a scream as he hit the mat like a ton of bricks; he cringed slightly watching the impact, though the instructors here seemed a great deal more patient as the one who had been training the kid let him walk off the mat to clean himself up.

It didn't take but a second to recognize the face that same kid glowered at.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Matthew turned around from shooting a glare back at the kid in question, eyes landing on Nolan and straightening up very much like a cadet having been snuck up on by his superior. (Nolan had caught a glimpse of such behavior at Brody's graduation; it was a knee-jerk reaction, and honestly sort of impressive how these kids seemed to gain a sixth sense for when an officer or senior Peacekeeper was around.)

"Sir." He replied, straightening up as if he might have been addressing Brody. (Not that he really knew what their professional relationship was like, but it wasn't hard to imagine.)

"Are you teaching sword fighting here?" He asked, seeming genuinely surprised to see him again.

"I am indeed," He replied, reaching out to shake Matt's hand in greeting. "Apparently even the Reaping isn't enough to stop people from wanting to know how to swing a sword. How've you been?"

Brody hadn't spoken much about his new friend lately; he idly wondered if the two of them had fought or had some kind of falling-out. Though he kept his professional and personal lives separate, he normally tried to keep his parents updated on how his friends were doing.

"I might come back here every now and then, too."

Nolan grinned.

"I do believe I promised you a spar, back when the Olympics were going on." He replied gamely, "If you think you're up to it."

Nolan shrugged at Matthew’s assessment; that would figure, that those who wanted to be Reaped and were overlooked or feared that they might not be fortunate to be volunteered over, would want to be prepared for the next year. Nevertheless it was just an annual reminder, at least as far as Nolan was concerned, that the O’Rourke family had thus far been fortunate enough to avoid the Games. He couldn’t imagine having to stand by and watch if Brody’s name had ever been called; nothing took the life out of a parent quite like being helpless to protect their child.

Matthew, however, wasn’t out of the woods yet.

He didn’t know what things were like between Matthew and his old man (he had the lingering suspicion that they’d drifted apart, the way the kid had talked about him), but he didn’t envy the man in the least having to wait one more year to see if his boy would be in the clear.

“Thanks but not at the moment. I’m still recovering. I guess your son didn’t tell you what happened.”

Nolan frowned. Brody hadn’t mentioned that anything had happened to Matthew.

“I’m no longer at the academy. My friend’s father claimed I was trespassing on his property. He actually pressed charges… the whole thing was pretty messy. He got unruly, punched me, her and another peace keeper. I guess his retaliation was to have something on me as well. So I got expelled.”

His brows rose almost to his hairline, both in surprise that Matthew had apparently gotten into that much trouble and the fact that Brody had neglected to mention it.

Well… maybe ‘neglect’ was the wrong word. Nolan was well aware that as imposing and tough as he was, Brody was just as fiercely protective of his parents as they were of him, and kept his personal and professional lives as separate as possible. Between him, his son and his wife, Nolan had the least power as a civilian; at times, was left in the dark probably for his own protection. ‘Plausible deniability’ were the words Brody had used, when he’d first mentioned being assigned to crime scene investigation.

Matthew lowered his gaze to the floor, his tone giving away the shame that his eyes probably showed. It was one thing to drop out of the Academy, not everyone was cut out to be a Peacekeeper; but being expelled on top of being accused (convicted?) of a crime put a metaphorical scarlet letter on his chest.

”No, Brody didn’t mention any of that.” He admitted, looking around the training center. ”Maybe we should talk somewhere a little more private?”

Nolan wasn't terribly concerned with the sensitivity of what Matthew was telling him, so much as he was pretty sure the kid didn't want to go broadcasting this blemish on his record. It was already apparent that some people had caught on by the way they looked at him.

Even if Matthew was larger than Nolan was, for the moment he seemed oddly small and vulnerable.

A couple of Careers in training got up to leave as he and Matthew sat down; now Nolan was genuinely curious what Matthew had done to earn such a reaction. Truth be told, Nolan didn't honestly know Matthew very well, but the brief glimpse he'd had of the kid when Brody had brought him home over a long weekend was enough to convince him that Matthew Dunham was a decent guy.

Besides, he trusted his son's judgement in who he considered his friends.

"Your son tried to keep the interrogation civil..." Matthew started, refusing to look Nolan in the face.

Nolan frowned.

"There was an interrogation?" He asked, already confused as to where Matthew was going with this, "Why would Brody be involved in an interrogation?"

Granted, they didn't talk as often as they would have liked, but Brody never mentioned anything about interrogations. Hell, the last Nolan had heard anything about Brody's work in the Peacekeepers was that he was a crime scene investigator.

"It didn't work. Not his fault though."

He sat up from his place with his elbows on his knees, looking at Matthew with a scrutinizing look. It wasn't that he doubted the kid's honesty, but it almost sounded like he was saying...

"I didn't think I was really trespassing. My friend invited me. I know her dad didn't want me there but... you know."

"Hold on." Nolan stopped him, tone firm but heavy with uncertainty, "What do you mean Brody 'tried to keep the interrogation civil'? He's a crime scene investigator."

He gave pause.

"Right?"

Brody had never had reason to lie to him, the idea that he'd start now was utterly foreign to him. But, then, his son had always made a point of keeping his work as far away from home as possible.

"And what does that mean 'it didn't work'? Is he in trouble? Are you still in trouble?"

Matthew looked like a deer in headlights as Nolan stopped him mid-speech; so it was true, Brody hadn't been entirely honest about the work he did in the Peacekeepers. It was obvious by Matthew’s expression that he was realizing that it had, in fact, been a secret, and he’d just inadvertently blown it wide open.

He pressed Matthew for an answer, and the kid avoiding his eyes only added fuel to the fire. What in the hell was going on?

“No, it’s all done and over with.”

Nolan eased up slightly, reassured Brody wasn't in danger, though he wasn't any less intent on finding out what else Matthew knew that his son had been keeping from him.

“We’re good. Both of us.”

That wasn't it, though. He knew there was more than Matthew was telling him.

”Matthew.” He pressed, quiet but insistent, “There’s something you’re not telling me."

“I shouldn't have said anything. Your son is very protective. He’s done everything he could at the academy for me and I think he’s doing the same for you.“

He wanted to grab Matthew by the shoulders and shake the cryptic, beat-around-the-bush tone out of him. Nolan supposed his wife had rubbed off on him; he hated it when someone didn't get to the point, especially when the answer to a question concerned his son.

Matthew moved as if to stand up and leave; Nolan's hand rested heavily on his shoulder, pulling him back down.

"Matthew, what exactly does Brody do for the Peacekeepers?"

Nolan wanted to beat his head against a wall as Matthew stood up, refusing to tell him what was going on. At this point it was less about the information, and more about the principle of the thing; there were few things Nolan hated more than liars, and knowing that Brody knew that, it was terribly confusing why his son would keep anything from him to start with.

But he didn't press further; he hadn't missed the flinch from Matthew as he'd laid a hand on his shoulder, though whether it was from the physical contact or some leftover psychological trauma left by... whatever they had done to him, Nolan didn't know. He watched as Matthew started backing away to leave.

"I'd better get going now. I can't train anyway-was just going to check who's here. Sorry for the interruption."

Nolan narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing. Matthew was sorry, but not for taking up Nolan's time; that had been realization on his face as the older man had pressed him for answers. Apparently, Brody had neglected to cover all his bases... or at least hadn't thought Matthew would meet Nolan without him around to tell him what not to say.

This was going to be an interesting discussion with Brody, later.

... Once he persuaded his son not to kill Matthew for inadvertently giving him away.

"Hey, are we training?"

Nolan turned back towards the training mat; his three pupils had gathered, the oldest boy looking thoroughly refreshed and ready for a redo with the sword resting cockily over his shoulders. He softened ever so slightly seeing the concern written deep into their instructor's features.

"... you okay, sir?" The middle boy asked tentatively.

"I'm fine..."

He stood up, standing in front of his students, who didn't look terribly convinced.

"I'm fine." Nolan said again, and though he didn't quite believe himself, the kids bought it. "Now, where did we leave off?"

WORD COUNT: 607

Brody didn't honestly give half a shit about the many heads that turned towards them as he stormed through the warehouse towards a rightfully apprehensive Matthew as he stood up from whatever he was working on.

"Hello to you, too, Brody."

He looked about as happy to see Brody as Brody was to see him. So either he'd figured out at some point why Brody was about to ram his boot up his ass, or the complete absence of Brody's usual tact had clued him into exactly how much trouble he was in.

"You seem a little worked up."

Oh, you son of a bitch.

But he wasn't about to beat Matthew's ass in front of his coworkers; not necessarily for fear of his reputation, that had probably gotten around well enough now since Matthew, apparently, talked about him.

He wondered who the hell else knew Brody was an interrogator.

Brody didn't miss a beat as he crossed the floor to Matthew, grabbing a large handful of the front of his shirt and manhandling him out the nearest door where he could bite his head off with a little more privacy. Anyone who didn't already know what he really did for a living, had no business finding out.

He very nearly threw Matthew out the door, slamming the door behind him and shoving Matthew against the side of the building, eyes blazing and spitting venom.

"You told my father I'm an interrogator!?" He snarled, nearly yelling but not wanting to be overheard, "What the hell is wrong with you?? Don't you remember me telling you my job has made me enemies??"

It was one thing if someone tried to come after Brody for the work he did; it was part of the job, and he'd accepted that much when he'd been trained for this line of work. But Brody didn't put it past anyone with the brass and the lack of self-preservation to declare him their enemy to stoop low enough to go after his loved ones in an effort to get to him. Both of Brody's parents were warriors in their own right; his mother was still a dead shot with a gun and a bow and arrow after all these years, and Nolan was deadly whether there was a sword in his hands or not.

But anyone who wanted to get to Brody was his problem, not theirs. If anything ever happened to them of his account, Brody wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Plausible deniability was a flimsy defense, but it was still something.

Now they didn't even have that.