Part 12: What goes with the color bruise?

This was the part that Catherine absolutely hated: the part where she got to sit around while her team of experts did all the work. Times like this the Watcher Honoria desperately wished someone would hand her a sword and point her at something dangerous just so she could feel useful.

Charlie had sequestered himself with Giles to explain their situation. It was decided that it was best to talk to the senior Watcher Honoria—no, just Watcher here, Catherine reminded herself, and the Council Educationary claims him too, so stop being territorial—first so they could feel out what they could and couldn't tell the others. Catherine couldn't help but be amused by the Slayers that just happened to drift by Giles's closed door as they tried to look like they weren't at all on sentry duty.

J'Nal was trying to get a handle on the real level of technology their guests had access to or had knowledge of. Willow was targeted to serve as J'Nal's tutor in all things technology, although Catherine was surprised that Kennedy sat in on the session. As far as she knew, Kennedy wasn't a technology expert, that's assuming she remembered her history correctly. Probably another very poorly disguised attempt at guard duty, Catherine mused.

Ruda was invited to do something called "hang" with the masses of other Slayers in the central room. Catherine wasn't entirely sure what "hang" entailed, so she urged Ruda to keep her eye out for trouble and her mouth firmly shut about the future while getting to know the other girls. If they were hanging clothing and pictures, fine, pitch in. But if "hang" was this era's version of Slayers competing to see who was the toughest on the planet, she was to stay very much out of it.

Such an admonition earned her a pout from Ruda, who almost always managed to land in the top five of any I'm-Tougher-Than-You-Girlie contest. As usual, pouting quickly gave way to bouncing when something shiny distracted her. The shiny thing, in this case, was Faith showing up and offering to train with Catherine.

Her team scattered to the four corners of the house, Catherine did her best to hide her nervousness while her mind squeed at her, You're right next to her. She's right there. And she's going to train with you. YES! No one is gonna believe this when I tell them. No one. Mom and dad are gonna…

Well, ask for a very, very detailed report, no doubt. First the verbal report, which would be encoded on crystal and enshrined on the family estate, followed by a written report that would be filed in triplicate in every single archive between here and Colony Prime.

Her hand was already aching thinking about it. Didn't help that quaint Watcher Honoria and Watcher Educationary custom demanded that handwritten reports were to be filed along with any report generated by a MemePad. Plus, her handwriting was bad, as in really bad, as in bad squared.

Throw in that just about everyone who is anyone in the realm of Slayerdom was going to be watching her and her team very closely when they got back, and she just knew she was in for a nerve-wracking time. No doubt her family was unintentionally going to cause the most stress. This wasn't just about the family business; this was about the family pride.

And walking right next to her was one completely oblivious Slayer who simply had no clue that a simple invitation to spar was causing so much tumult. At least Catherine hoped it was the case. She liked to think she was presenting a very calm, cool, and collected face to the world. Provided she didn't talk. If she opened her mouth, she was pretty damn sure she was going to say something stupid.

Faith stopped short of the closed basement door, held a finger up to her lips, and listened intently. A slow smile spread across her face as she lowly remarked, "The boys are beating on each other."

"The boys?" Catherine was especially proud of the fact that she managed to keep her tone even. Not one trace of nervousness to be found. No, sir. Keep those sentences short and sweet and you just might get out of this without making yourself look like a complete astra.

"Xander and Robin."

"I take it they don't get along?" Catherine almost managed to squelch the satisfaction she felt at asking this question. Of course Alexander and that awful Robin Wood were, I mean are, mortal enemies, she reasoned. What I don't understand is that Faith, Faith, of all people seems to be with that…

"What gives you that idea?" Faith asked, cutting off Catherine's train of thought.

"You said they were beating on each other," Catherine pointed out.

Faith studied her, as if trying to see the truth behind the noncommittal statement. "They don't see eye-to-eye on some things, if that's what you mean. They haven't done any male-bonding bullshit, if that's what you're wondering."

Catherine could feel a jitter coming on underneath Faith's close scrutiny, so she covered with a question that technically was a white lie. "What's male bonding?" she asked as she fought very hard to get images of Alexander and that Wood creature actually socializing out of her head.

Faith shook her head. "Forget it. Their time's almost up anyway." A sly grin crossed her face as she added, "Let's sneak in and make it real quiet. I'm up for some sweaty man-on-man action and I don't want to break the mood."

Catherine nodded, not sure how she felt about the salacious innuendo inherent in Faith's statement. Faith, for her part, had inched the door open and was already creeping down the five steps necessary to get a clear view of the action on the mats without needing to duck below the basement ceiling. Catherine took a deep breath and followed, stopping on the fourth step. Unlike Faith, she needed to crouch her taller frame to get a good view.

What she saw caused her eyes to open in shock.

Alexander was in mid-air, very obviously because his opponent had tossed him.

Catherine immediately relaxed when she saw him manage to land with a grunt and then roll smoothly to his feet.

"Very good," Robin nodded. "At long last you've figured out how to recover from a fall."

Alexander turned to face him with a grin. "I'll have you know I've been doing good on the fall-and-roll thing. By this time next week I'll be able to avoid beating on headstones with my forehead by pretending I'm dead." He stretched with a wince, the smile disappearing from his face. "Which might not so much be pretending and more like me being actually dead. Throw me a little harder next time, will ya?"

Robin immediately crossed his arms. "This is nothing and you know it. Our opponents are bigger and stronger than you are and they don't care if you get an ouchie when they try to kill you."

Alexander shook his head and sighed. "Hello, fighting seven years on a Hellmouth, remember? I got the memo back when I was fifteen."

"Then act it," Robin ordered.

"Hence the nonstop training," was the muttered response.

"You really should reconsider going out on patrol," Robin said as if Alexander hadn't spoken. "The real fighters are the Slayers…"

"…and you," Alexander shot back with irritation. Catherine could see the dark-haired man reign himself in as he added in a much calmer tone. "The fact is, you're also going out on patrols, so what applies to me has got to apply to you, I figure."

"I'm a much, much better fighter than you are. I've been doing this…"

"Since you could barely walk, yeah, I got the memo on that one too, Big Man," Alexander snapped. Catherine could see a slight wince cross his features. "Look, I'm not going to argue about this because, hey, you're right, you are the better fighter…"

Robin looked as surprised as Catherine felt by this admission. Robin Wood a better fighter? Considering his philosophies, I find it pretty futching hard to believe that bistardo ever got his futching hands dirty, she thought furiously.

"…hence the fact that I'm training with you, with Buffy, and with Rona," Alexander continued, with a hint of anger. "Plus I'm training with every distance weapon I can get my grubby mitts on—and I'm doing really very well all things considering, thankyousoverymuchforasking—so I won't have to get into hand-to-hand unless I have to. I know you don't want to believe it, but I've actually put some thought into what I need for training and even double-checked with Giles to see what he thinks."

"Have you? You don't strike me as the thinking or planning type."

There was an edge to Robin's statement, an indefinable tone that caused Catherine to bristle. Something told her that this was either a very old argument or a new twist on a currently running one. The fact that Alexander's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned seemed to be confirmation of the fact that there was something a little more to the give-and-take than the words. Unable to resist, Catherine stole a sideways glance Faith and noticed that the Slayer seemed troubled by the exchange.

The tense moment dissipated as quickly as it sprung up. Alexander closed his eyes with a sigh and shook his head. "Look, I really don't want to get into a pissing match, okay? All in this together, remember?"

"Just so long as you remember that, and lately you don't seem to be remembering that."

"I haven't forgotten, but it seems to me that I'm not the one gunning for top dog in the kennel around here," Alexander commented as he stalked over to a towel.

"Really? All for putting Generalissimo Buffy back in charge?" Robin said as he slowly turned and began moving to join Alexander at the edge of the mats.

Catherine thought Robin was moving very oddly. The taller man was almost gliding as he moved to Alexander's left, as if he was doing his best to stay in the younger man's peripheral vision.

"Hell, no. Especially right now. Buffy's got a lot to work out and even she agrees that taking on any leadership responsibility is a bad idea right now," Alexander replied as he began casually folding the towel. "As for me, just accept that I'm on Team Slay until I figure out something resembling a plan for my future."

Robin stopped three steps away from his sparring partner, fury stamping his features. "How nice that this is so convenient for you," he commented in a hard tone.

Alexander jumped and spun around as if he didn't notice that Robin was standing so close. Surprise gave way to shock as Robin's fist flashed out and hit the younger man square on the temple, sending him sprawling onto the mat. For his part, Alexander managed to maneuver so he could avoid some of the blow's force, although he still landed on his back.

Catherine opened her mouth to say something about the sucker punch, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced over and saw that Faith looked positively livid as she studied the scene below through narrowed eyes.

Alexander continued to blink owlishly up at the ceiling while Robin towered over him. "This is not a game," Robin hissed. "This is deadly serious, more serious now than ever before. And you treating it like it's a hobby spits on the grave of every Slayer that's walked the earth. This is not just some fun extra curricular activity for you to do until you land a real job. This is a vocation, a calling. You either commit to the mission, or you commit to getting gone."

On that pronouncement, Robin spun on his heel, not bothering to check on his felled opponent, and began taking the steps two at a time.

Faith loudly cleared her throat, which brought the departing man to a halt. He glanced up, and on seeing two furious glares, he shortly said, "Here endeth the lesson."

"And what lesson would that be?" Faith replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"About the need to commit," Robin said as he brushed by Faith and Catherine on the stairs and retreated into the house above.

Faith looked over the banister. "Yo! Cyclops! You okay down there?"

"Don't call me that." Alexander's voice was steady, although the response lacked heat.

Faith seemed torn a moment before her expression settled into a furious decision. "Look, you go down and check on him. Me 'n Robin need to have a fucking chat." On that, she shot up the stairs into the house, leaving Catherine alone in the basement.

The Watcher Honoria hesitated for what felt like years before creeping down the stairs and walking over to the fallen man. "How are you feeling, really?" she asked.

Alexander didn't move, although he did respond when Catherine leaned over him. "Just peachy, thanks. The bruises will go nicely with that new shirt Willow made me buy. I kept telling her, 'Wills, you're not exactly a fashion plate yourself, so why in hell should I listen to you when you tell me to buy a deep purple button-down shirt?' But she wouldn't listen and next thing you know, I've got a deep purple button-down shirt hanging in my closet. She kept going on and on about how I'm a winter and should go with some nice solid colors. Right. Like Wills even knows what a winter is. Aren't lesbians supposed to have sucky taste in clothes? Don't answer that. I know, I know. It sounds all stereotype-y and wrong. But I guess I should thank her because, really, it's the only thing that'll go with all the multicolored boo-boos all over my body."

"Ahhhhh…" Catherine began.

"You're right. Next time, I make Buffy come with us clothes shopping. At least she knows fashion and how to coordinate outfits with bodily wounds. Because Buffy? Slayer and Jedi Shopper all rolled into one tiny blonde package."

"How about taking Faith?" Catherine squeaked out.

The suggestion was enough to get Alexander to lift his head off the floor and fix Catherine with a disbelieving look. She noticed that his left eye seemed to be furiously tearing, which mystified her. He didn't look like he was crying or even about to cry, but the tears were gathering on his lashes just the same.

His head thunked back onto the mat, as if holding it up was too much effort. "Oh, riiiiiiight. Let's see where Faith would take me. Let me think. Not the mall. No. Too tame. Oh, wait! I get it! Bubba's Biker Emporium for all your tight leather clothing needs. Take advantage of our special: pants that leave nothing to the imagination, buy one, get the second one half off. Because at Bubba's, if you got it, we know you wanna flaunt it. No thanks. I still have nightmares about wearing Speedos in public. The absolute last thing I want to do is wear something where everyone will be pointing and laughing at the package between my legs."

"Biker? Bubba? Speedos?" Catherine's head was spinning.

"Forget it," Alexander said shortly as he got to his feet. "Christ. I hate it when he's right."

"Right about what?"

Alexander looked at her, but something seemed to break down in him and his shoulders slumped slightly as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It's not so much that he's right, it's just that he's not wrong, either. He really hasn't been telling me anything I haven't been telling myself since Sunnydale started doing its impression of the Grand Canyon."

"You can't mean that," Catherine said with horror. "All those years you've been fighting and training and…and…consulting with…with…Giles and…"

"Any minute now you're going to hurt yourself. You're new to babbling, I take it?" Alexander asked with a grin. He sobered. "Look, Robin just gave me one hell of an object lesson. He walked right up to me on my blind side and I didn't even see him coming. Now imagine me fighting on patrol and the same thing happening. I'd be dead and maybe so would the people I was with."

Catherine shook her head. "Wait. Back up. Blind side?"

Alexander blinked at her, while his left hand drifted up and self-consciously touched his left cheek. "The eye is fake," he explained, his tone expressing that he wouldn't say anything more.

"It's what?" Catherine swooped in to take a closer look while Alexander took a reflexive step back. That explained the tearing. "I didn't…I mean…I don't remember reading…"

"I'm guessing that history missed the bit about me getting my real left eye poked out?" He seemed strangely amused by this.

"No. At least I don't remember…maybe there were some vague references I missed or something got mistranslated along the way." Catherine rubbed her jaw with a smile. "Fake eye, hunh? Well, once you get used to it, it'll be better than the one you lost."

Alexander blinked and shook his head. "Better? How can a fake eye be better?"

"Are you kidding?" Catherine exclaimed. "Okay, learning all the muscular movement to activate the eye functions can take awhile, but once you do? It's amazing. One of my colleagues had to replace his eye and he got top-of-the-line. Split screen, microscopic settings, direct wireless linkage to scanners and cameras, X-ray, and, of course, zoom. Saved his astra on more than once on a mission."

Alexander looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Umm, my eye doesn't do anything like that."

Catherine stopped cold and considered that statement. No matter what angle she looked at it, that didn't sound good. Her translator chip must be on the blink. She better check. "So no wireless linkage?"

"No."

"Split screen?"

"Nope."

"Microscopic…"

"Definitely not."

"X-ray?"

"I wish, but sadly, no."

"You've got to have zoom. You've got to at least have that. That's even in the most basic replacement eyes."

"To quote the great Dave Lister, if I want to zoom on anything, I move my head closer to the object."

Catherine didn't know who Dave Lister was, but she did understand 'no' when she heard it. "So your eye just gives you regular vision then. Hunh."

"No vision at all."

Catherine stood up straight. "What?" she demanded.

"The eye," here Alexander waved at his face, "doesn't see anything at all. It's all for looks and because I got sick of wearing an eye patch."

"You're blind on the left side?" Catherine was horrified. This was simply barbaric! Good god! If technology in this time period was that low, she shuddered to think what would happen if someone broke a bone. They probably were still using gamma-powered bonefusers to heal fractures.

"Completely," Alexander confirmed, "which is why Robin was able to get so close without me seeing him. Like I pointed out, object lesson for one Xander Rabbit."

Catherine could feel her face scrunch in anger. "Hasn't he been teaching you how to compensate?"

"Nope. We've been doing the Xander toss for the past six weeks."

Catherine gave a firm nod. "Right. We're going to fix that right now. You and me. Sparring."

Alexander looked like he was about to beg off, but one look at the Catherine's determined face seemed to drive the idea right out of his head. Instead, a slow, delighted smile spread across his face as he remarked, "I'm all yours, Yoda."

Yoda? As Catherine swept onto the mats, she decided she liked the sound of that title.

TBC…