Stronger

            He'd gained about 3 kilos, but knew he was still weak. So he started retraining. Sit-ups were easy enough; at least they didn't stress his leg. After half an hour, Sark switched to push-ups.

            He tried a light jog a couple of days later. It ended up being the slowest run he'd ever attempted. But he did it every day, knowing his speed and endurance would increase.

            "Julian," his mom called out one day, "do you need help with your medicine?" Sark had just come out of the shower.

            "Yes. One moment please," he said politely. He emerged without his shirt on, ready for the ointment for his cuts.

            His mom started to apply the ointment on his back. Sark stared ahead, out his window. Calvin was outdoors, trying his best at chin-ups on a low tree branch. Sark smirked at that.

            He heard her sigh. Sark glanced over his shoulder, catching her eye.

            "What?" he asked.

            His mom shook her head, and pushed on his shoulder so his back was facing her again. She continued with the ointment. It was a lengthy task. Sark timed it at ten minutes.

            She sighed again, and Sark couldn't take it anymore. He walked across his room, and picked out a shirt, seemingly ending the task.

            "Julian Sark, you get back here right now," she ordered. Sark froze, then turned back to face her.

            His mom looked as shocked as Sark felt. Julian Sark? Her face softened.

            "Let me finish," she said, motioning for him to return. He nodded.

            She continued painting on the ointment, and turned him around to do his arms and chest. Normally Sark did that himself, but he sensed his mom needed to stay for a moment.

            "Is that how everyone thinks of me?" he asked in hushed tones. His mom's eyes flickered up at him.

            "You're still Julian, our son," she said. "And you're still this mysterious spy named Sark." She paused, looking to see how her son was taking this. Sark didn't say anything, but stared at the floor. "Ilene told us about how you saved her. She saw what you do firsthand."

            He nodded. "It scared her."

            "Yes," she affirmed. "But she saw how brave you are. You face so much danger, and even when you tried to leave it behind, it's still a threat."

            She knows none of them will be safe with me around. Sark swallowed.

            "You all would be safer if I hadn't come back."

            "Yes." The answer pierced Sark's heart. His mask came up instantly, hiding emotions he didn't dare show. "But we'd rather have you back."

            He didn't really buy that. "Why all the sighs then?"

            She sighed yet again. "I've never seen so much pain purposely inflicted on anyone. And here it is, all on my son."

            "It happens," he said a little too nonchalantly.

            "Not to my son," his mom shot back with that tone that used to make him cower. Sark looked and saw tears in her eyes. "I just wish I could have prevented all this."

            The floor looked inviting again, and Sark stared at it, only to see the shame he'd created.

            "You did everything right, Mom," he said softly. "I walked into that life." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and went for his shirt again.

            He tried one of his fight routines. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, but it exhausted him. He continued the routines daily.

            Calvin watched him. One day, he interrupted Sark's concentration on the imaginary blows.

            "Hey, Julian," he said, that younger brother shyness in his voice, "Um, would it help if you had someone to . . . spar against?"

            'Spar' came out like a foreign word. Sark smiled, stopping his routine to catch his breath.

            "Are you volunteering?"

            Calvin shrugged awkwardly. "I'd like to learn." Sark smiled again. He waved his brother closer, and started to demonstrate basic punches and kicks.

            The brothers sparred daily, dancing around in the garage. Sark was amazed at how quickly his brother improved. Strength was an issue for Calvin, but speed was not. Sark found himself barely blocking Calvin's hits.

            They didn't land any punches, not on purpose. Once Sark overestimated the space between them, and hit Calvin squarely in the chest.

            Calvin heaved at that, clutching the impacted area.

            "Cal, are you all right?!" He helped his brother stay on his feet. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

            Calvin nodded. "I know, I know. I think you're getting better though."

            Sark couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'll believe it when I go against someone better."

            Calvin glared playfully at his brother. "That hurts, Julian."

            "Allow me to intervene then."

            Both brothers looked up to see Lyndon, the guard. He removed his gun, and other excess hindrances. Sark raised an eyebrow at him.

            "I don't know that I'm ready for that," he said politely. Lyndon shot him a look.

            "Only one way to find out." Lyndon pushed up his sleeves, and wrung out his arms as if to loosen them up. He was in fighting stance, and waited for Sark to engage.

            Sark nodded slowly, and waved the guard to advance. Lyndon didn't hesitate.

            He started with a cross punch, and then a combination kick. Sark dodged the first, but the kick caught him in the side. He grunted and stepped back out of range.

            Lyndon advanced again, and there were no phantom punches. Sark dodged what he could, and returned what he could to Lyndon's body. The guard twisted his body around, bringing a kick high in the air to arch down on Sark. Sark caught his leg and pushed back, uprooting Lyndon.

            The guard fell on his back, and Sark allowed him to get back to his feet before resuming. Sark advanced, and threw a jab. He missed on purpose, then ducked and landed a punch in the man's abdomen. Lyndon stumbled backwards, but quickly returned.

            He swung at Sark, catching him in the jaw. The impact made him bite his tongue, and Sark spat out some blood on the garage floor. He nodded for Lyndon to keep coming.

            Lyndon kicked low at Sark's feet. Sark jumped, then stepped forward with one foot. He twisted backwards, and kicked out a reverse. Lyndon caught his foot, predictably. Sark kicked off his supporting leg and twisted his body in the air. His other foot connected with Lyndon's head.

            Both men fell to the ground, but Lyndon recovered too quickly from what Sark thought was a great hit. The guard pinned him to the floor and punched him in the stomach.

            Sark winced as another hit came. He blocked the next one, holding Lyndon's fist in the air as if he held a knife. It was purely a battle of strength at that point, until Sark stretched his leg up and side-swiped Lyndon off of him. Sark quickly pushed himself up to his feet. He noticed his chest was heaving, and didn't like being so exhausted already.

            But Lyndon was heaving just as much. The two men stared at each other for a brief moment, and then Lyndon charged at Sark.

            It dawned on him that he should have just stepped aside, but Sark took the full-body charge instead. Lyndon rammed him in the chest, picking Sark up like a lineman would.

            Sark was slammed into the garage wall, and heard his back realign. His breath left him immediately as Lyndon dropped him. Sark slumped to the floor, but saw a roundhouse kick.

            Sark ducked, falling to his side on the floor. As Lyndon's leg continued past him,
Sark raised his leg and dead-legged the guard. Lyndon fell to the floor on his back. Sark quickly rolled his body to the guard, and slammed his elbow in the man's chest.

            Lyndon coughed and held up a hand. Sark stopped, relieved because he was done as well.

            Sark heard something from the doorway to the kitchen. He looked up from his defeated opponent to see his family staring at the ordeal. His parents' jaws were open, and Ilene raised an eyebrow at him.

            "That is so cool," Calvin said, in awe. His mom slapped him on the chest, hushing him.

            Lyndon slowly got to his feet.

            "Mr. Sark, I think you're ready."

            Sark breathed in and out slowly, and nodded.