Sanctuary (Dunham)

Matthew seemed genuinely --though pleasantly-- surprised to find that his mentor was a Career; though Brody's years of eligibility had passed, it still stung a bit remembering how close he came to becoming the male Tribute for District 2, but either getting looked over for his age or being beaten late in the Pregames. There were still videos of some of his matches somewhere, but Brody didn't much feel like revisiting them even though his parents were proud of how far he'd gotten. He was too old to fight in the Games, and in any case his skills had improved since he'd been a teenager.

"Did you ever fight in the pregames? With this?" Matthew asks, looking at his weapons.

"Yeah."

He didn't really want to dwell on the fact. Brody resheathed his sword, mounting it back on the wall.

"True... Verus... isn't that what it means? Pretty light. I think your Dad's would suit me better." Matthew comments, giving back the shield as well. "Now it all makes sense...the shield as a weapon."

It never failed to baffle both Nolan and Brody how underrated a shield was; especially to Academy students, who would be equipped with ballistic tower shields to handle riots. It was a far cry from his own tiny buckler, but many of the concepts were the same. Matthew sat at Brody's desk chair, running his hands through his short, wet hair and looking around the room while Verus rejoined its brother on the wall. As much as he had been insistent earlier about not hitting the sack early, the weariness was showing on his face; throwing himself into the lake had probably taken a lot out of him. Brody went back to setting up the bedroll on the ground, only glancing up as Matthew spoke.

"You have a nice place here. It's a real home. Not like most of the ones I've seen. My place is pretty old... not this nice and tidy. It's only me and my dad there."

That explained a lot. Brody didn't know what the relationship was like between Matthew and his own father, but suddenly his discomfort for Nolan's affection towards Brody made more sense; nevermind the fact that though they had only known each other for a few weeks, he already seemed to consider Brody a role model, or at least a friend. No mother to speak of, though... McKenna wasn't around as much as she wanted to be, but she'd done the best she could. Brody couldn't imagine what his life would have been like without her.

"Take your pick, bed or bedroll." He said, breaking the tension. "I'd love to keep talking, but I definitely need a shower."

The water was comfortingly warm, though he didn't waste much time wallowing around in the shower; Brody could feel the last 4 months' stress creeping in, and the only thing on his mind was sleep. Strangely, though, having company made it feel much more like home. Perhaps it was that bred-in paranoia as a Peacekeeper that made him despise sleeping without a weapon or a guard, or just the simple fact that he didn't have to keep up the hardass drill-instructor facade at all hours of the day. He shook his head to stave off the tiredness, quickly washing his skin and hair and getting out. Normally, he wasn't the least bit shy of being naked in front of other people, but considering Matthew's very visible discomfort even discussing the idea, figured it best to just throw on the undershirt and boxers he'd worn earlier.

Brody left the light on in the bathroom, cracking the door so it would be visible from the hallway; Matthew had apparently chosen where to sleep, leaving Brody to flop exhaustedly onto the sheets.

Brody only managed to reply with a sleepy 'mhmm' before drifting off. Maybe it was stress, maybe it was the fact that it had been entirely too long since he'd had a full night's sleep, but he could scarcely remember dreaming as soon as his head hit the pillow.

But, exhausted as he was, it didn't stop Brody from snapping awake late at night hearing the door open and close again, the 'click' signaling the door being locked behind the one who had opened it. Matthew was thoroughly passed out with his study book open on his chest; Brody crept around him on bare feet, silently cracking the door and peeking out into the hallway as his fingers brushed Priscus's handle. A light was on downstairs; he knew exactly who it was. Brody glanced back at the clock --it was just past 2 am--, then back at Matthew; he was still asleep.

Closing the door behind him, Brody moved quietly down the stairs; not that he ever expected to be able to sneak around on these wooden floors, but it was a force of habit at this point. Nolan woke up at the drop of a hat, he didn't need to be up for this.

McKenna O'Rourke was standing in the kitchen, her briefcase set on the counter and her sidearm sitting on top of it. Brody's mother was a petite 5'5" and the one he'd inherited his slim build from, but her presence and personality were ten feet high; twenty years out of the military hadn't dulled her Peacekeeper officer bearing or confidence in the least. She exuded a confidence that Brody had worked many years to emulate; exceedingly competent, self-assured and no-nonsense. When McKenna O'Rourke told you she wanted something, she damn well got it; she rarely raised her voice, but then she very rarely had to. Even without any flashy displays of physical or political power, she always gave the impression of someone you absolutely did not want to anger.

The fact that she was still a crack shot with that pistol probably helped.

"You're up late."

Also, she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head. Brody wandered sleepily into the kitchen; his mother put down the file in her hand and looked up at him warmly. Even at 2-something in the morning, her makeup was immaculate, her work clothes were pressed and clean like a uniform, and there wasn't a hair out of place on her head. Not that any of that stopped her from wrapping her son in a long-overdue hug. McKenna smelled like the same perfume she'd been wearing for as long as Brody could remember, and there were few things he found more comforting.

"Hey Mama." He mumbled sleepily into her shoulder. Even in high heels, Brody towered over his mother.

McKenna stroked her son's hair for a moment; she wasn't much for talking, but they had figured out a long time ago that there wasn't much for them to say. She was more of an action-over-words kind of person.

"I missed you."

"Sorry... work's been keeping me busy." Brody pulled back from the hug to face her, though he let his mother hold his head to kiss his forehead. "Which reminds me... I brought a friend with me."

"Marcus?"

"No, not Roman; the recruit I'm training, Matthew Dunham." McKenna raised an eyebrow, which meant 'Explain'. "It's a bit of a story, I'll explain at a better hour of the morning."

She simply nodded, patting his arm as Brody shuffled back towards the stairs to go back to bed.

"Do you want me to wait for you in the morning?"

"Please do. G'night mom."

---

The sun was just coming up when Brody woke up again; Matthew was awake, sort of. He rolled over, intending to go back to sleep when the sun filtering in through the curtains hit him in the face; Brody sighed. Guess it was time to get up. Besides, Mom would be waiting downstairs for him. Without saying anything to Matthew, Brody slid off the bed, still not fully awake but running in autopilot. Ever since he had started training at the Career Center, he had been up at nearly the same time every day for one of the only forms of training his mother had provided him, but it was arguably one of the most valuable.

True to form, his mother was already downstairs, looking immaculate as usual; McKenna O'Rourke didn't do the vulnerable, unmade look in front of guests. But it was still infinitely more casual than her work clothes; soft, loose trousers and a t-shirt, blonde hair pulled up in a sock bun and minimal makeup. Brody didn't bother changing out of his undershirt and flannel pants; the training gear could wait until the swords came out. Without a word, he followed his mother out into the backyard. The sun was rising on the other side of the gorge, making the already brilliantly red rock appear as if it were on fire in the early-morning, orange glow. The grass was damp with dew, and the mosquitoes from the night before had given way to birds chirping.

When McKenna had suffered the injury that had separated her from the Peacekeeper Corps, she had been prescribed physical therapy; according to the doctor, something called tai chi. Though she had never truly regained her full strength and motor function, McKenna still got up every morning to walk through the exercises with slow movements and deep breath. It wasn't until Brody had been involved with the Career Training Center for a few years that McKenna got her son to join her. He'd resisted loudly at first, but with his mercurial temper, McKenna had ordered him to do it and that was that; Brody had thought it was stupid for the first few months. His only concern was combat training. But as the months wore on, it started to work away the burning need for competition and cooled his temper; McKenna never officially told him he could stop, but by the time Brody reached 18 years old he knew every move by heart and had begun practicing on his own.

When he came home, their routine was as if they had never left. Brody's eyes were closed, but they had been training for so many years together that he knew they were in sync; he could hear the wind on the surface of the lake and rustling the reeds that grew all along the bottom of the gorge, the sounds of his own breath moving deeply in and back out, the smell of the lavender that grew around the house. He imagined it every day when he was on his own, but Brody had sorely missed the real thing.

They were only about halfway through the motions when Matthew found them in the backyard; McKenna probably heard him coming before Brody did, though he made his presence unmistakable when he greeted them. His mother didn't open her eyes, or even stop going through the motions; she was far better at tuning out distractions than Brody ever was. But, he was technically the host; Brody paused, turning to face his student.

"You wanna join?" He asked, "Might do you some good."

Brody touched the spot on his own chest where Matthew's scars would be, knowing his mother wouldn't have her eyes open to notice and ask questions. Tai chi was about softness and breath, and as ridiculous as it had sounded to him when McKenna had taught him the steps, even Brody had managed to use it as a means of meditation. Or at least, as close to it as a mind as busy as his was.

He didn't give Matthew the option to say 'no', waving him to come out further in the grass and resuming the first form; the entire process took only about fifteen minutes, and Brody was the type that hated to be interrupted in the middle of something.

"Tai chi is about softness and breath," He explained, remembering his mother's lesson to him some years ago. "The movements are intended to be slow and deliberate." Brody moved slowly into the second posture. "Do as I do."

It was slow going, since Matthew had probably never even heard of tai chi before, let alone done it; but Brody was already in a relaxed mood, walking his student through each of the stances and directing him when to 'breathe in, and back out', 'move your foot further back', and 'soft, not strong'. Even giving the instructions, it wasn't overly hard to get back into the mindset; he didn't notice when his mother finished, walking back inside to start the coffee.

"...and back to the first posture."

Whether or not it had done anything for Matthew, Brody wasn't terribly concerned; he was centered, both from the exercise itself and getting back to his roots doing it in tandem with his mother. By now, the smell of breakfast was wafting out of the kitchen; Nolan was up. The trancelike state was gone almost immediately; Brody was itching for a sword fight. Inside, Nolan was already dressed in an old t-shirt and training shorts, the training equipment and padded gloves piled onto the sofa in the adjacent living room. On the counter, Nolan apparently intended to feed a fire team of men; eggs, sausage, fruit, potatoes and a hot pot of coffee altogether smelled divine.

"Mornin'." He said, pointing to a stack of plates with the spatula in his hand, "Dig in, you're gonna need your strength."

Brody didn't need to be told twice; he knew Nolan was just as eager for a spar as he was. McKenna was apparently already finished and was sipping politely at her coffee.

"Mom-- I almost forgot, I said I'd explain my guest. This is Matthew, he's a recruit at the Peacekeeper Academy." She raised her eyebrows at him, "I've been assigned as his trainer."

His mother considered Matthew for a moment; Brody knew she was sizing him up, trying to decide whether or not he looked like a promising candidate. She had been as an officer, and her eye for detail was uncanny even to Brody's standards.

"Nice to meet you, Matthew." She said after a second. "How far along are you with the Academy?"

She had probably already guessed that he was close to graduation; Brody probably wouldn't have brought him home otherwise. While his mother and Matthew made small talk, Brody nearly inhaled his breakfast so he could run upstairs to put on his own training gear. McKenna frowned at his manners, but didn't say anything figuring he wasn't normally this uncivilized around company.

"So, Matthew." Nolan asked, leaning forward on his elbows, "You gonna be picking up a sword today?"

Nolan laughed heartily when Matthew asked what they'd 'need their strength for'.

"Forgotten already?" He teased gently, "We're picking up the swords today."

Whether Matthew planned on making good on his apparent enthusiasm to learn some swordplay wasn't any of Brody's concern; it had been entirely too long since he'd had a good old-fashioned sword fight, since by this point most of his colleagues at the precinct knew better than to take Brody up on a challenge. Granted, Roman still indulged him from time to time, but it wasn't the same.

Eager as he was, though, when McKenna raised her eyebrows at him Brody reluctantly slowed down over his breakfast; now was one of those times that he wondered if she ever turned the military bearing off, it was a little uncanny at times. He just shrugged, washing down his breakfast with some of the orange juice on the table; Nolan often traded fish for oranges with their neighbor at the end of the road, no doubt he'd juiced them himself.

"Two weeks to go. So almost done. Your son is helping me complete the training because I've had a setback... got injured halfway through." Matthew explains, while McKenna watched him contemplatively, "I guess he figured I needed a babysitter this weekend."

Brody rolled his eyes good-naturedly, knowing his mother would get the joke.

"Unsupervised in a nearly-empty Academy over a long weekend? The list of things you could get into is endless."

He'd seen brand-new Cadets do amazing things straight out of the Academy... it was hilarious and baffling at the same time. With Matthew's record of trouble finding him, though, Brody nearly expected to come back from the long weekend to find out he'd somehow gotten himself killed. He saw McKenna sigh and nod understandingly; she had been there, and especially having been an officer probably had to deal with ten times the amount of crap he did.

"So you've been a Peacekeeper, too?"

She didn't actually do it, but Brody could sense the sigh. McKenna had been asked this question many times by people who were absolutely baffled how she'd gotten out of the Peacekeeper Corps early, as if it was something she had done on purpose.

"I was." She said simply. "I was an officer and a medic for 7 years; I was let go early on medical separation. I wanted to finish medical school, so the Peacekeepers agreed to fund the rest of my education if I worked for the government."

Incidentally, the story of how McKenna had been separated was the same story as how his parents had met. His parents had told him the story from their own perspectives many times. The quarry was unfortunately known for cave-ins, and on one such occasion the Peacekeepers had deployed a medical unit to respond to a particularly bad one. At the time, McKenna O'Rourke had been Captain McKenna Shea and had been leading a team of medics into the mountain to the site of a smaller cave-in where a number of injured quarrymen were waiting for them. One of them had been Nolan O'Rourke, then in his mid-twenties. His mother had been directing medics moving the injured out of the tunnel while tending to him when a second cave-in had struck; she had thrown herself over her patient, and the two of them had been buried under the rubble.

The story usually went two very different paths at this point; Nolan had regained consciousness first, slowly unearthing the two of them to the best of his ability and --while still injured-- had dragged himself and the wounded Peacekeeper out of the cave. McKenna didn't regain consciousness for several days, finding when she woke up that her quarryman patient had been sitting vigil at the bedside of the medic who had saved his life, but also that falling debris had broken her back.

His mother didn't much like talking about the ensuing, excruciating physical therapy and countless surgeries she'd have to endure to regain function of her legs; but Nolan had been there for, quite literally, every step of the process, both grateful to and enamored of the woman who saved his life. McKenna never fully recovered her strength or full function of her limbs; she was no longer fit to be a Peacekeeper. But with only 1 year remaining in her schooling, she struck the Peacekeepers an offer they couldn't refuse; they would fund the final year, and she would work for the police divisions as a coroner. With how high the demand and few the supply of coroners was, they couldn't say no. Though she was already separated, when McKenna had graduated she had been awarded a final, honorary promotion to Major.

She and Nolan were married the same day McKenna graduated medical school, and Brody had been born only a few weeks later.

"When are we getting started?"

Brody and Nolan exchanged looks. He hadn't told his father any of the details about Matthew's injury; it wasn't his place to say. But he trusted his father to know when was too far, and though McKenna's 'patients' nowadays generally weren't alive, she was more qualified to treat Matthew if worst came to worst than any doctor he'd probably ever seen up to this point in his life.

"As soon as I get my gear on."

Brody bounded up the stairs, quickly throwing off his undershirt and pajama pants; he was nearly giddy with the prospect of a good sword fight. A baton and riot shield wasn't nearly the same; a one-on-one sword fight had a level of personal connection that working in a team sorely lacked, especially when his opponent was one he knew well and had respect for. Granted, he was pretty sure his father was going to kick his ass; he had been using the sword for longer than Brody had been alive. But that didn't matter, and it gave him something to look forward to. One day he'd defeat Nolan.

Today... was probably not that day.

He was back downstairs in a flash. Their training weapons and shields were made of hard rubber and would flex with hard enough hits, but were still rigid enough to deal damage if anyone was unfortunate enough to take a shot to the face. The padding was much the same as it had been at the Career Training Center; hard leather greaves, bracers and helmets. Brody held his helmet in his hands, raising an eyebrow at his father.

"Are we going to be sportsmen, or is this going to be anything-goes?"

Nolan considered for about half a second.

"No holds barred."

The kid gloves were coming off today; perfect. Brody donned his helmet, strapping on the greaves and bracers, and adding a pauldron to his shield arm. Nolan had the inherent defensive advantage with his much larger shield, but Brody was far faster on the offense; even if Nolan won the majority of their matches, Brody was closing the gap. They stepped outside where Matthew and McKenna were waiting; Nolan grinned, walking over to his wife, whispering something in her ear. She laughed, pulling her husband's head down and kissing him. Though he already knew the answer to the question in his mouth, Brody pretended to look the tiniest bit grossed out.

"Why do you always do that, Dad?"

Nolan smirked, putting down his sword and shield to pull off the threadbare shirt he'd been wearing that morning. He was still built like he was carved from the stone of the mountain in his mid-forties, and had a rather impressive and enviable array of knotwork tattoos on his chest and back.

"I always get a kiss for luck."

"Right, Dad, because you need it."

His father merely shrugged, picking his sword and heavy shield back up; Brody followed him onto the lawn in the back yard, which was nearly dry in the morning sun. With the size of the plots of land each house in this neighborhood was given, they had more than enough room to move around and have a proper match. Though they had sparred with each other for years, McKenna had her first aid kit sitting next to her on the bench in the shade of the porch. Usually it was cuts and bruise she tended to (none of this 'kiss it to make it better' crap, unless it was Nolan hamming it up to make his wife laugh), but she was nothing if not prepared for the worst.

"For our guest's viewing pleasure... rules." Nolan started, "Touching swords marks the start of a round. Head and body shots are one shot, one kill. Two limb shots equal a kill; if a limb is hit, you're not allowed to use it until the next match. Otherwise... anything goes."

Brody could already feel the adrenaline starting to surge in his veins; no-holds-barred matches were by far the most exciting, and left the most opportunities for improvisation. He extended his sword; Nolan did the same, tapping them together and stepping back into his fighting stance. Brody shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, standing to face his father with his sword arm forward in the offensive position. Everything around him faded out of his awareness; Brody could hear his pulse in his ears, watching for the first signs of movement from his opponent. He feinted a couple of shots, tapping Nolan's sword or shield to try and draw out an attack. His father smoothly parried, not taking the bait but watching him intently; Nolan was stronger, but he knew damn well how much faster Brody was.

Then-- there it was!

Nolan lunged forward, intending to ram into Brody with his shield and throw him back; Brody sidestepped, leaping forward to attack his exposed flank. His father turned with the shield, blocking the blow of his sword from his side and swinging his sword at Brody's back. He tucked and rolled forward, narrowly avoiding the hit and coming to crouch on the grass behind Nolan. The earth below his feet was loose, slowing his reaction time lunging to his feet to deliver a stab to the back; Nolan turned, letting Brody's sword glance off the side of his shield and bringing the sword down on top of his head. Brody raised his buckler, letting the sword hit it and throwing his arm to the side to throw Nolan off balance; he raised one foot, kicking into his father's shield the same way he had when teaching Matthew riot control at the beginning of their training. It didn't cause Nolan to budge nearly as much, but it was enough to push him back a few steps.

They were back to where they'd started, squaring off; the entire exchange had taken less than thirty seconds.

Brody breathed deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly through his mouth; it was something Nolan had hammered into him from day one of swordsmanship, controlled breathing. Getting too riled up would throw off his focus and make his movements wilder and less precise; his father had only had to witness his son's savage temper once to realize what happened when Brody fully snapped.

For another moment, neither man moved, feinting steps and strikes to throw his opponent into the defense; Brody could feel himself growing impatient looking for an opening, and he knew his father knew it. He feinted a shield strike, drawing Nolan out to attack his unprotected left side; he sidestepped again, but this time wasn't fast enough to dodge the simultaneous shield-bash that threw him off balance. Nolan didn't wait for Brody to regain his footing, shoving him to the ground with his body weight behind the shield and pointing his sword at his son's throat.

"Point one."

Brody growled at the sword point mere inches from his throat, irritated that he'd lost the very first match. But, he'd expected as much; his father had always been his most formidable opponent. Matthew hadn't even participated yet, but was already utterly engrossed from his place on the sidelines and cheering his mentor on.. Even his mother, who had seen them fight countless times, was watching them with excited, widened eyes.

"Get up, c'mon, you can do it!"

Knocking the sword away with his shield, Brody swung a kick at Nolan's legs to knock his feet out from under him. His father leaped back out of the way, giving him enough time to jump to his feet and rush for the offense; Brody swung unrelentingly at Nolan's shield, putting him on the defensive and driving him back. Nolan, figuring he knew what his son was up to, lunged forward and swung with his sword arm; Brody deflected it with his shield, taking the opening and trapping Nolan's arm against his body. Without missing a beat, he swept his father's feet out from under him, pinning his now very unwieldly shield arm to the ground with his foot and pointing his own sword at Nolan.

"Point."

Nolan smirked; he was a much better sport than his son was, but Brody knew he wouldn't be able to pull the same move twice; his father learned very quickly.

"Wanna give your friend a run through the gauntlet?"

"Getting tired already old man?" Brody teased, releasing his father's arms and pulling him to his feet.

"I'm not that old." He insisted, unbuckling his helmet and gesturing for Matthew to join them. "C'mere son. Hopefully you were paying attention to that fight, you'll pick something up."

It took a few minutes of unbuckling and re-buckling to put Nolan's gear onto Matthew; Nolan kept immaculate care of their training gear, not that Brody was very concerned about Matthew getting squeamish about a little sweat after Brody had traded helmets with him during riot control. He had been right about the shield though; Matthew seemed much more suited to Nolan's larger, heavier shield than Brody's small buckler.

Nolan briefly went over how to use the shield (Brody noted with a smirk that the lecture sounded very much like Brody's during riot control training), but went over the sword in more detail.

"Don't think of the sword as a weapon so much as an extension of your arm. Large, powerful swings are less effective and leave you more vulnerable to attack." He gently maneuvered Matthew's hand to roll at the wrist, showing him how the sword moved. "It's easier to go around your opponent's defense than through it; the wrap shot lets you do exactly that, 'wrap' around your opponent to attack their exposed areas."

He stepped back, letting Matthew get a feel for the weapons and the new concept.

"Don't beat him up too bad, Brody."

Brody watched patiently as Nolan helped Matthew put on his gear, rolling his shoulders and swinging his sword arm to stay loose and keep his pulse up. Though he would have liked to go a few more rounds against his father, he had said he'd show Matthew how to use a sword and shield; besides, getting to whale on him a little bit would be payback (not that he actually wanted revenge) for all the trouble he'd given Brody at the pool some weeks ago.

He couldn't help himself but smirk at Nolan's insistence he not beat on Matthew too badly.

"I only promise to try."

Matthew smirked back at him. "Right."

They tapped swords, and Matthew raised his shield (very reminiscent of crowd control training), tentatively pushing his shield against Brody's and taking a swing at his shield arm. Brody shoved him back, forcing Matthew's shield against his body and causing the sword to glance off the side, missing him entirely.

"Tell me what to do... teach me."

Brody nodded, taking a few paces back and watching Matthew for a moment. Even with the same weapons as Nolan, his fighting style was different; Matthew seemed much more suited towards offense, and though he was used to the large shield being used for defense... They could work with this.

"You're using a bigger shield; you'll be slower, but your defense is going to be stronger." He swung his sword a few times in the air. "Don't try to match me in speed; use your weight and strength to your advantage."

He put a hand on the rim of Matthew's shield, moving it around to demonstrate his points. "The aspis is mostly suited to defense, but you can use it to shield-check me, hook my shield to take down my defense, trap my weapon, or push me back."

Nolan was sitting with McKenna on the sidelines, watching as Brody instructed Matt and looking decidedly proud of watching his son take on the mantle of teacher. He hadn't spoken up, which could only mean Brody was getting his information right. Brody stepped back, raising his shield and tapping Matt's sword.

"Lay on. And don't forget what we already went over in crowd control training."

Brody circled Matthew slowly, batting at his sword and shield with his own sword, trying to draw him out to attack; Matthew had the added advantage of being a little bit taller than Brody and Nolan, and had a few more inches of reach. He was less experienced by far, but Brody was going to need to be light on his feet nonetheless.