A sharp knock on my door jerks me awake.

"Rose? You need to get up now. You'll be late for training."

Lifting my head, which seems to weigh about a hundred pounds, I silently question the soundness of my judgement last night.

Training? What was I thinking? Did I lose my mind?

Squinting, I peer around the room. My gaze settles incredulously upon a stream of sunlight coming through a chink in the curtain.

"The sun hasn't even set yet! I'm going back to sleep."

In the brief silence that ensues, I foolishly think I'm victorious. But no.

"I will stand here and knock every ten seconds until you're ready to train."

As if to prove his point, his knuckles hammer on the wood again. It's like he knows exactly how to make his knocking as loud and as irritating as possible, and I point this out when I stumble out the room five minutes later.

"Did they teach you that in school or something?" I ask, my sarcasm lost in the act of stifling a yawn.

My hair is a mess that I didn't want to deal with, so I just pulled it into a bun, and I'm not entirely sure that I did a thorough enough job with my toothbrush. I look like I just rolled out of bed, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and the yoga pants I bought because they make my ass look good.

"No," he smirks, expecting me to follow as he walks away. "I just have sisters."

I get the full opportunity to ogle him as I stumble along in his wake. Maybe he really is a Disney princess. Dressed in a sweatshirt and loose running pants, beneath that ever present, infernal duster, he looks like he had the most refreshing sleep ever, and woke up with sunlight and birdsong. Talk about bright eyed and bushy tailed. I just have the 'bushy' part.

Looking at him now, I suppose my crush is not entirely my fault. He's just too damn attractive. I can't help myself.

"You have sisters?" I ask, to distract myself from that train of thought.

"Yes. Three."

Somehow, it had never occurred to me that he could have a family. How could it be that this stoic, Russian badass was once a child? I mean obviously he didn't just spring into existence, leather coat and all. The prospect intrigues me, far too much for my own good, if truth be told. But then, I've never been very good at holding my tongue.

"Last night, you said they're in Russia?"

He frowns thoughtfully, making me aware that he's uncomfortable talking about himself in this manner. But whereas previously my impertinence would be rewarded with more silence, or a noncommittal answer, now I receive a response.

"Yes. My youngest sister, Viktoria, is only a year younger than you are."

Beneath his discomfort, there's a softness to his expression that I've never seen before, and I probably wouldn't notice if I wasn't watching so closely. It's clear to me that he's proud of his sister, and that he loves his family deeply. Somehow, without me realising, the events of last night have initiated a change in our relationship, and he's letting me peek through the cracks.

I no longer see him as my good-looking assigned guardian, here to babysit me. He's obviously still extremely attractive, but now that I know a little more about his personality, I realise that he strikes me as someone who may be worthy of my respect. And from the way that he seems to be opening up a little more, maybe he no longer just sees me as his charge.

With a flicker of unease, I recall the way he looked at me last night, and the feeling said look evoked in me. There are definitely shifting paradigms over here, and I can only hope that they don't cause a landslide that will crush me beneath its weight.

Once we reach the gym however, it's back to business. That guardian mask slides seamlessly over Dimitri's face once more, and I experience a pang of sadness to see that side of him packed away, out of my reach again. But I stand before him, and do my best to pull on my serious face while I await instructions. From the look he gives me, I'm not very successful.

I stand there, at a loss, not knowing what to expect. In my discomfort, I begin idly swinging my arms back and forth by my sides.

"What are those?" Dimitri asks sharply.

It takes me a second to follow the direction of his gaze, down to my hands, which I stop swinging abruptly. He's talking about the small pink marks on my palms, each one perfectly aligned to its corresponding finger. Burn marks, almost healed.

"Nothing."

Honestly, what else could I say? That the pain distracts me? He already thinks I'm self-destructive, and he already knows what they are.

"Well, next time you feel like doing 'nothing,' tell me, and we can come and train instead."

I nod, and we don't say another word on the subject.

By comparison to what the dhampirs do in training, I suppose Dimitri goes easy on me. I feel as though he's testing me, learning my limits so that he can push me just a little beyond them. He starts me off doing weights, but the problem is that even with him being lenient, I'm pretty much hopeless.

"Okay, let's start out with something easy."

I try to lift my arms, but they may as well be tied down.

"Come on, just lift them."

Honestly, I'm starting to sweat with the strain. "I can't."

"It's 10 pounds. You can't lift 10 pounds?"

I roll my eyes. "Apparently my arms are decorative."

"Hmm. Apparently. Okay, try these."

It turns out that I can't lift 5 pounds either, which forces Dimitri to remove the weights altogether, and I just work with the bar. As ridiculous as it is, he's remarkably patient, demonstrating what he wants me to do and how many times to do it, while I try to avoid staring at his muscles.

And I have to admit, even though initially I feel really stupid, after a few minutes I find a rhythm. He leaves me to my own devices, retreating to a nearby corner and folding himself up on one of the exercise mats. He produces some battered novel from the depths of his duster, and I'm forced to stifle a grin at the Mary Poppins flashbacks this evokes.

I turn my attention away from him with immense effort, trying to focus instead on the feeling of my limbs and muscles as I work to complete the given task. It starts becoming oddly satisfying, in a weird way, and I barely seem to exist outside of the movement and effort of the exercise. And then it becomes tiring. And then painful.

By the time Dimitri allows me to stop, it has long passed that point. My legs and shoulders burn like they've been exposed to sunlight, and it's all I can do not to collapse onto the mat. My arms hang limply by my sides, as though disconnected entirely from the rest of me. I'm puffing like a steam train.

"Well," I say breathily, between two huge gasps of air. "That was educational."

He frowns down at me, from his lofty height. "Was?"

My heart plummets into my stomach.

"You can't mean…are you telling me we're not done yet?"

There's a glint of laughter in his eyes, and he lets loose one tiny smile that takes away what little breath I'd managed to catch.

"That was just the warm up."

By the end of the hour, I'm fervently wishing that I'd never gotten out of bed. I wish I'd never mentioned any of this to Dimitri. But somehow, I can't bring myself to wish I'd never met him.

"This is worse than detention," I groan. "I hurt all over."

Suppressing a smile, he replies, "You'll feel worse tomorrow."

"How is that helpful?"

"You'd rather I lie to you?"

"No. But I'd also rather have remained ignorant of the fact that there are muscles in my elbows."

He rolls his eyes. "I did tell you yesterday that this wouldn't be easy."

"I know," I grumble. "I was just unaware of how not easy."

We're walking to the cafeteria. Or rather, he's walking and I'm limping along, somewhat resembling a zombie.

"On the plus side, at least you won't be climbing any more walls in the near future."

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes, but the effect is marred by an involuntary wince as I'm forced to climb the single step at the cafeteria entrance.

"It's going to get worse before it gets better," he informs me, but I'm distracted by the hand he places on my back to steady me.

Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and then he tears both his gaze and touch away. Without another word, he heads off to stand with the other guardians.

Despite the aches that I know I'm only beginning to feel, as I make my way to my usual table, I feel as light as air.

Even though we spent an hour in the gym this morning, the early start ensured that I'm still in the cafeteria before I normally would be. It's relatively empty, in fact, and even Lissa isn't here yet. So, even though I went yesterday, I decide to take advantage of this time and pay another visit to the feeders. Something tells me that I could use some extra strength right now.

I tell my name to the clipboard lady, who sends me straight inside. The perks of being early, I guess. I can sense Dimitri's eyes on me as I walk into the feeding room, but I try not to think about it too much, because it brings back memories that I really shouldn't be dwelling on.

I get April again, and we pass a few preliminary minutes in friendly conversation. It turns out she really enjoyed the CD I gave her, and it makes me feel good to have made her happy. Maybe it's the time of the morning, and the fact that she's still relatively sober, but as I move towards her neck, April fixes me with a strangely maternal gaze.

"You be sure to take enough this time, okay? Else I'll tell that tall man of yours."

My face reddens, but I nod and get down to business.

When I go back through to the cafeteria, Lissa still hasn't surfaced, and barely anyone else has either. However, our usual table is not empty, and I'm a little uneasy as I take my normal seat, opposite none other than Christian Ozera.

I figure that since he's the one who sought me out, at my table, it's only fair that he should be the one to speak first. But apparently, waiting for him to speak first has issued some kind of challenge, and I find myself staring levelly at his face in slightly awkward silence. I've never actually noticed what cool eyes he has; this clear, piercing blue.

I speak without thinking, "You know, in seventy years, if you grow a beard, you could become Albus Dumbledore."

He blinks. "Wow. Your brain must be a weird place to exist."

I grin.

"So, you're probably wondering what I'm doing in this neck of the woods."

"Well yeah."

"It's kind of about yesterday."

"Oh, that," I reply, feeling a little awkward. "You don't have to thank me."

He breaks into a sarcastic smile, not bothering to hide his fangs. "I wasn't going to."

I roll my eyes. "Well now I know exactly why you're at my table."

"I'm not saying thank you, but I will acknowledge that you intervened before I did something really stupid."

I suppose it's the best I can hope for.

"As a trouble maker, I'm fairly qualified to recognise the signs," I say. "Were you going to set her on fire?"

His eyes narrow. "Maybe."

"Damn. I would have liked to see that."

He snickers. "Actually, it may be something I can show you sometime."

I'll be honest; I'm intruiged. He looks like he's going to say more, but Lissa chooses that exact moment to sit down next to me, and he bites his tongue. At first, she doesn't even notice him. Then comes a double take.

"Oh. Er, hi." Surprise lends her voice an additional octave.

Christian nods, and gives me a look that clearly communicates that we'll finish our conversation later. To Lissa, he presents a sarcastic smile, and then rises from the table without another word.

She turns to me, clearly bewildered. "What was that all about?"

"Beats me," I shrug. "He never really got to the point."

Lissa frowns as she considers this, then shakes her head, and moves on. "Why were you even in here this early, in any case?"

"Oh, uh, I had training with Dimitri."

"You had what?"

I roll my eyes. "Training. Like in a gym."

She remains speechless, and I begin to feel self-conscious.

"Could you please pass me my spoon?"

"Why? It's right there on your tray?"

"It's just that I don't think my arms work right now."

By making her laugh, the tension breaks. I think she could sense my discomfort, and we move on to other topics of conversation. I fill her in on the events of last night, conveniently forgetting to mention the moment between Dimitri and me. Then the bell goes, and it's time to go.

My legs feel weak and shaky, and I let out an involuntary groan as I stand up. How am I going to survive today? I shuffle over to the exit, walking like I'm eighty. I'm trying to summon the necessary effort to sling my backpack on when somebody removes it from my hand.

"Hey!"

"What?" Dimitri raises an eyebrow, swiftly pulling the strap over his own shoulder.

"You're my guardian, not my valet. You don't have to do that."

"I know. But you look like you could use some help."

The smile is back in his eyes, clearer than usual, and very distracting. Still, I don't like being reminded of how weak I am, and I choose to keep quiet. Not that it helps.

"Be patient," he says, as though reading my mind. "You'll get stronger. It's only day one."

"Only day one," I groan, trying not to think about how much I'll hurt tomorrow.

But when he grins in response, I'm forced to conclude that there are definitely some perks to this new regime. I would love to see his smile every day.

Author's Note

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, or didn't, please let me know by leaving a review! It's always fantastic to read your input, and I really love hearing from you. Apologies once again for my infrequent updating. If you'd like to keep up with posts, please feel free to favourite and follow. This fic is also currently unBeta'd, so there are probably mistakes, for which I am sorry. If you find any, please call my attention to them, so that I may correct them.

I guess I've just been lacking motivation recently, and I'm sorry. Things are happening too quickly. But I shall endeavour to keep on going. I am enjoying writing this story, but I'm also running out of ideas. So like, I don't know when the next update will be, and it could be a while.

The VA universe and the characters therein are the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.