Chapter 5

"I. Want. To. Fight."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Oh? And why is that? You've beaten me in Insect Eating, Doctoring, and Disguise. I've beaten you in Decoding and Stealth. It's only fair that I match your score," Irina countered.

"How do you know that you would beat me? Hmm? Irina, I've been trained by the best in my branch-"

"Which is?"

"-And I highly doubt that you, a mere amateur, could beat me. No offense," Monet went on as if Irina had never interrupted him.

"I am a natural born athlete, Monet. If I can beat you at anything, it is fighting."

"Pole vaulting is very differing from fighting, Irina; there's a reason they're two separate sports-"

"Please, Monet," Irina cut him off. "Let me at least try!"

Monet sighed. He couldn't say no to Irina's wide brown eyes in that puppy face that was much too will-bending for her own good. "Oh, alright."

"Yes! Thank you!" Irina exclaimed, flinging her arms around Monet. "I will not let you down!"

"I'm sure you won't," Monet muttered, making sure not to hug Irina too close to him. Her worn out clothes were already thin enough.

The two let go of each other and stepped back, wearing very different expressions. Irina's was one of excitement and anticipation; to put it plainly, Monet just wanted it all to be over.

"Okay," he began, "first, we have to stretch."

"Stretch?" Irina raised an eyebrow. "We will not have time to stretch before actual battles, Monet! Why do we stretch now?"

"Because this isn't an actual battle, Irina, in case you haven't noticed," Monet snapped. "We're just practicing, and in practice, you should always stretch first. And afterwards, too, actually. It helps loosen up your muscles, so you can fight well on short notice. And trust me," Monet added grimly, "fighting at short notice is what we Cahills do."

Irina sighed as if frustrated, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Does that mean that, once we escape, I should practice fighting every day?"

"Of course!" Monet exclaimed. "Why would you ask a silly question like that? The more you practice, the better you get. 'Practice makes perfect', as us Americans say."

"That is not true," Irina disagreed, shaking her head. "You Americans are silly. Practice does not make perfect."

"Oh?" Monet raised an eyebrow. "And why do you say that?"

"It is simple," Irina began. "There is no such thing as perfect, true?"

"True," Monet nodded.

"So if there is no such thing as perfect, how can practice make perfect?" Irina reasoned. "It makes no sense!"

Monet sighed, rubbing his fingers in circles on his temples. "Never again," he started, "will
I underestimate a Lucian's sense of logic."

Irina smirked. "That was my goal. Now, we fight?"

"Nice try. Now we stretch."

XxxxxxX

Approximately seven minutes later, both Monet and Irina were all stretched out, more than ready to start fighting. A reluctant Monet cracked his neck one last time (it was totally painless, despite Irina's concerned protests) and faced the young Lucian agent. His usually merry blue eyes were hard and cold; Irina couldn't help feeling like she would never, under any circumstances, want to meet him in an actual battle. For good reason, of course. If he took practice this seriously…

"Okay," Monet started. "What do you want me to teach you first?"

Irina shrugged. "I do not know! You are the one teaching me; shouldn't you know what to teach?"

"Hey, I'm only teaching you this because you begged me to-"

"I did not beg; I am not a dog."

"-if you actually want me to teach you at all, you'd best not criticize me," Monet went on, acting as though Irina had never interrupted. "So, what do you want me to teach you?"

"Moves," Irina decided. "Teach me moves."

"Offensive moves or defensive moves?" Monet asked. "Personally, I recommend defensive. If you work the moves right, then you can survive a whole fight by just using defense."

"Defensive moves, then," Irina stated. "Teach me those."

Despite his serious, slightly crabby demeanor, Monet chuckled. "You're not at all demanding, are you?"

"No, I am not, and I do not appreciate your- what is it called?- ah, yes. Sarcasm." Irina scowled at her cellmate. "Teach me now."

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"Of course I am sure!" Irina exclaimed. "Have I not made that clear already?"

"Yes, you have, I just wanted to make sure," Monet mumbled. "Now, we'll start with what I call the Kangaroo."

"The Kangaroo? Why is it called the Kangaroo?"

"Have you ever seen footage of a Kangaroo jumping?" Monet inquired. Irina nodded. "Well, the way they jump, they slam their feet into the ground. In this move, you do something similar- instead of slamming your feet into the ground, however, you slam your feet into your opponent."

Irina's eyes were sparkling with eagerness, but she fought to keep her composure and hold it in. "It sounds wonderful," she said. "You teach it to me now?"

"Yes," Monet replied. "Let's pretend that someone's running at you. You jump up, positioning yourself so that you're horizontal in the air, and kick out your legs. When you kick out your legs, make sure that your feet are flat, and that they're in line with the chest of your opponent."

"Why the chest?"

"You can get the most solid blow there. Plus, you can 'knock the wind out of him' that way; then, he'll take longer to get back up, and you'll have more time to either deliver another blow or get away," Monet explained. "Make sense?"

"Yes."

"Good. Shall I go on now?"

"Please do."

"Okay. Well, that's basically how you do the move; it's simple enough, once you get the hang of it. The difficult part is the landing," Monet spoke. "You have to make sure you don't land on your back, otherwise you could seriously injure yourself, as well as give your opponent an easy opportunity to kill you."

"I do not want that."

"I doubt anyone would," Monet chortled. "To prevent that, you have to land a specific way that requires a good amount of arm and leg strength, in addition to good coordination in the air. Whilst you kick your opponent, you should be turning in midair so that your stomach ends up facing the ground. Then, your landing should be a bit catlike. Make sure that your arms and legs are outstretched towards the ground, and when you land, catch yourself. Using your arms, push yourself back up as fast as you can so you can make it back to your opponent quickly. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Irina nodded. Monet fought back a smirk.

"I thought there was no such thing as perfect?"

"Do not use my own words against me!" Irina snapped. "I will not stand for it!"

"Calm down, Irina, I'm just joking around," Monet assured his companion. "Back to the lesson, I guess. Would you like me to demonstrate the move to you?"

"Yes, please," Irina answered rather stiffly. She was still sour over her words being used against her.

"Very well. So as not to injure you, I will pretend that the wall is my opponent for the time being," Monet said. "Once you have practiced the move a few times, and have mastered it, then we will practice on each other."

Not wasting another second after speaking those words, Monet demonstrated the Kangaroo. Irina could only stare in awe at the grace and power he exhibited. His blow to the wall pushed himself back, and yet, he still managed to land without causing himself an injury. When he rose, he looked at Irina, and seemed to grow smug thanks to the look that she instantly wiped off her face.

"You try now," Monet ordered. "Practice against the wall, like I did. Ready… go!"

Irina sucked in her breath, glared at the wall determinedly, and jumped high into the air. Her legs shot out as her body turned horizontal in the air, and she kicked the wall with all the force she could muster. She flipped over in midair and extended her limbs, just barely catching herself before she hit the ground. The Lucian took a few deep breaths and then stood up, facing Monet, her head held up high in triumph.

She didn't even have to ask if she had done well.

"Wow," Monet blinked rapidly. "That was… wow. Without a doubt, the best Kangaroo move I have seen carried out on the first try. There are a few points you could work on: flip in the air earlier, and when you land, get up immediately afterwards. In a real fight, you can't afford to spend a second hesitating about anything. Try the move on the wall two more times; then you can practice on me."

Irina nodded, and carried out the Kangaroo move as well as Monet could have hoped for. The next time, she did it just as well, if not better. Though Monet knew that her success was probably more due to her natural athletic ability than it was to his teaching, he still couldn't help beaming with pride.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Now, you'll practice on me. I'm going to run at you as fast as I can; do to me exactly what you did to the wall. Okay?"

"Okay," Irina nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Alright. One… two… three!"

Monet began running towards Irina, only taking a few seconds to cross from his side of the cell to hers. He was right within just the right kicking distance when Irina made a terrible mistake.

She closed her eyes.

The truth was, she honestly didn't want to hurt Monet. Sure, this was just practice, but she considered him a friend of sorts, however different he was from her. She knew that she had to kick him, though; but she didn't want to see it.

So when she jumped into the air and her legs shot out, they missed Monet completely, and she was so disoriented from this that she forgot to turn in the air, and she landed on her flat on her back.

"Irina!" Monet rushed right to the woman's side, his blue eyes wide in horror. He knelt beside her head and put two fingers to her neck. Thankfully, he felt a pulse- a strong one at that- and Irina groaned, though her brown eyes stayed closed.

"I'm going to help you sit up, Irina," Monet told the Lucian after breathing a sigh of heavy relief. He gently slid his hand under the middle of Irina's back; she winced as he did so. Making sure that his touches were light, Monet slowly pushed Irina up to a sitting position, his other hand on her shoulder to keep her balanced.

He was in the middle of doing this, ever so carefully, when Irina's eyes blinked open. A good, old fashioned Russian curse was about to leave her lips, when suddenly… she stopped.

It was a silly thing for her to focus on at a time like this, but Monet was very, very close to her. She could make out each of the tiny scars on his face, could see the different shades of blue in his bright eyes, could reach out and touch his unshaven chin if she really wanted to. Her breath hitched in her throat as a flood of new, unfamiliar feelings swelled up inside of her.

Little did she know, the exact same thing was happening to Monet at that moment.

She's twenty-one years younger than you, he reminded himself. You're old enough to be her father.

He let this thought wash through him as he stared into Irina's deep, dark eyes. Finally, he cleared his throat, finished helping Irina sit up, and moved away so that he sat beside her, keeping his hand on the small of her back to help her stay seated.

"A-Are you okay?" Fiske asked, inwardly cursing the stutter that came up whenever he got nervous.

"Yes," Irina replied, her voice awfully small, her cheeks red. "I expect that I will have a bruise in the morning, though."

"I-I don't doubt it," Monet remarked. "That w-was quite a fall you took."

"It will get better soon," Irina shrugged nonchalantly. "Will you help me stand up please?"

"Of course," Monet said, gingerly lifting the woman to her feet. She held onto his arm as she slowly made her way over to her stiff, tiny bed, hating how weak she was at the moment. Monet laid her down on the bed and asked quietly, "I take it you want to rest now?"

"I would like to sleep," Irina responded. "Sleep sounds very, very good right now." She rolled onto her side. "As long as it is not on my back."

Monet smiled at her and told her, "Just tell me if you need anything. I'll be on my side of the cell, okay?"

"Okay," Irina nodded, a small smile on her lips. Monet smiled back and turned around, walking to his own bed, when Irina called out, "Wait!"

"What is it?" he asked quickly, turning around, concerned.

Irina gulped. "Thank you," she said. Monet's smile grew.

"I thought you said that you wouldn't thank me ever again, no matter what I did?" His eyebrow arched amusedly.

"Yes, well, I am a Lucian," Irina pointed out. "Lying is in my blood. Besides… you deserved it."

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Oh, stop looking so smug."

Monet just grinned.

I am soooooooooo sorry that it took me so long to update! I came down with a terrible disease: WRITER'S BLOCK. (Dun dun duuuuuuuun!) But now, I've gotten over it! For the time being, at least. I'm really busy right now, though, so I'm not sure when my next update will be.

Thanks for reading, and please review! I'd like to have at least 3 before I update again!

-Joelle8