Jim was hurting. Not bad enough for me to cut his lesson short or to go easier on him, but he was definitely hurting.
He was drenched in sweat, his once light gray shirt now completely darkened by all the perspiration he'd generated during the intensity of the hour.
To say I'd gone hard on him would've been an understatement. Usually when I was training someone who was new to my rigorous work ethic and teaching style, I would ease them into it with the lessons gradually getting more and more intense with each passing week.
I'd decided when I saw him saunter into the workout space that I'd see just how much of that cocky grin he could actually back up.
So instead of starting on day one of my training regime, I threw him in somewhere in the middle. And what shocked me most was he didn't object to my intensely cruel workout plan. Not once. With every new direction I gave him, with every correction and demand for him to switch exercises or complete reps, he complied without complaint.
Occasionally a look would cross his face that read, "Are you kidding me?", or "You cannot be serious", but no words other than "Yes ma'am" left his mouth during our entire session. Mixed in with those looks were times when he would lock eyes with me as he was going through an exercise. He'd be breathing heavily through parted lips, sweat dripping down from his hairline and onto his face, and would stare right at me with those beautiful bright blue eyes.
When I caught him staring at me like that, it caused an ache from a place within me that I was trying desperately to shut down. There was something in his gaze that was near primal. And no matter how hard I pushed him, he'd look at me with that intent in his eyes, like he was seeing right through my tee shirt and shorts, enjoying every curve of my body as it moved to demonstrate exercises.
Of course there was part of me that was trying to punish him for all those weeks of hell he'd put us through, and another part of me that wanted to get out all of the frustration and stress I'd accumulated in the past twenty four hours from dealing with the giant irritant that was Spock.
But then there was a part of me that wanted to see his body work, see him thoroughly exert himself, to see just how far he could push himself to meet the demands of my ridiculously hard workout. And he rose to the occasion with a level of determination that had a part of me worked up in a way that was entirely not appropriate, given the setting.
I was acutely aware of the small group of commanders that had gathered at the edge of the room amongst the gaggle of cadets. Word moved fast when the well-known and publicly adored captain was being put through the wringer by the cadet that had been torturing the other cadets for weeks.
Contrary to some of the thoughts floating around my brain, my intent was truly not to embarrass or humiliate Jim, or get off on watching him sweat and move. The truth was that while I had an inkling that he could handle being pushed, I wanted to see it for myself. And the way he powered through one exercise to the next, he was putting on a clinic for the rest of the crew on how to be the epitome of focus and determination.
There was a teeny, tiny part of me that thought he was just maybe trying to impress me in front of a good portion of the ship and its commanders, but I shelved that self-serving thought and focused on driving him through the last of the rigorous, high-intensity interval sets of moves.
"5, 4, 3, 2, 1 … Stop! That will conclude today's session, captain. Impressive work today. You're well on your way to being caught up to where the rest of the cadets are in their program."
He was bent over, hands on his knees as he heaved in breath after breath, having just completed a circuit of squats, burpees, and planks. Drops of sweat from his body dripped onto the black padded floor as he came down from the intense adrenaline rush of powering through an hour of exertion. Murmurs from the crowd around us got louder as people waited to see if the captain had any parting words.
I grabbed my towel and a full water bottle from my duffle bag and walked them over to where he stood with his hand on his knees still. Reaching out, I placed them right into his line of sight, which was currently down at the floor.
"I think you'll be needing these, captain."
Between huffs of breath, he managed to look up at me from his bent over position and give me a small smirk, blinking quickly through drops of his sweat to actually see me properly.
"I will be needing these. Thank you, cadet." That look was in his eyes again. The one that burned with something so intensely fierce, something that told me that while he may just be the tiniest bit peeved for me kicking his ass as hard as I did, he was also feeling the same heat I was — and not just from the intensity of physical exertion.
Breaking away from his slightly sultry gaze and that damn smirk of his, I made to turn around and announce to all the gawkers they could disperse or be subjected to an additional mandatory training session. But just as I opened my mouth to speak, someone was cutting me off.
"I am not sure I approve of your method, cadet."
The speed at which tension rippled through my body was frightening. My fists and jaw clenched at the sound of the voice that had been plaguing me incessantly for the past day. I turned slowly on my heel to face where the Vulcan stood among his small group of peers — Bones, Uhura, and Scotty.
It took an incredible amount of self control to keep my voice even. Everything in my body screamed for me to walk right up to his face and tell him exactly what I thought of him, his prying questions that he had no business asking, and the absurd amount of studying I would have to do in order to have any chance at getting a passing mark from him.
"I don't believe I asked for your opinion, commander, but please, enlighten me."
Oh, I knew I was toeing the line of insubordination. The room fell quiet, the only sound punctuating the silence was Jim's ragged breathing from behind me. I stood still as death as the Vulcan took a small step forward from the crowd — as if he really needed to set himself apart and stand out even more.
"While your training maintained a quick tempo and contained a variety of effective exercises, you kept the trainee at the highest level of performance throughout. It has been proven that more variation in types of movement, from high to low intensity can —"
"Correct me if I'm wrong commander, but I believe that I was appointed to lead the physical training exercises on the ship, and while cadets are required to attend, commanders were given a choice. If you find that you have too many logical qualms with the way I lead my classes, then perhaps you should see yourself out and abstain from observing."
Spock took another step forward towards where I stood at the center of the room. Hot, angry energy was humming through my body. With each second that passed, it was getting more and more difficult for me to maintain my composure. Sure, I could be pushed. But only so far, and only so often. The Vulcan was well past his third strike with me.
"The ability to be able to field and accept constructive criticism is a vital part of being an effective teacher. I am simply suggesting that while pushing the captain to his utmost limits, you may have put him at unnecessary risk for injury or strain. The art of combat is, after all, a delicately balanced engagement.
"Commander Spock, that's enough. I'm just fine, and the cadet did —"
I cut Jim off before he had the chance to finish his sentence. The fire was lit, and he knew better than anyone that once the heat was unleashed inside of me, it was near impossible to get it cooled back down. In a few quick steps I was right in front of Spock, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides as I leaned in to get closer to his smug, arrogant face.
"If you are so proficient in the art of combat and training, commander, please, don't hesitate to show me so I can learn from your expertise."
He let out the subtlest of snorts as he stared directly back into my eyes. And while the rest of the room might not have been close enough to hear it, the sound untethered what little control I had left on myself.
"I can assure you, cadet, that would be most unwise. If you wish to receive my direction and advice, I would suggest seeking it out in a more constructive —"
"I insist, commander. Let's put on a demonstration now."
As my body jolted into motion, I heard the shouts and yells of several other commanders in the room — Jim included — as I made a quick jab for Spock's head. I saw a brief flash of utter shock and surprise cross his face before he managed to duck, avoiding the blow and attempting to step around me in order to get into a better position to defend himself.
With the throw of the one punch, I was set off. All of the emotions that had been churning around inside of me for the past day and weeks had finally found a physical outlet — the Vulcan's face. I strung together an impressive offensive flurry of punches, some aimed for his head, others his groin, and even his legs.
The Vulcan may have stated he had a good knowledge of combat and training, but he was now proving that he actually had the physical skill to back up his logical dribble. He evaded every blow, blocking efficiently and effectively without over exerting or exposing a vulnerability unnecessarily.
As soon as I had finished my series of carefully placed and executed punches, I expected him to maintain a defensive position, and I moved quickly into another offensive stance in order to try to get through his logical predictions of my movement.
I was wrong.
Spock surged at me before I could even begin to consider how I would execute my next series of moves. His offensive attack was just as quick, efficient and precise as his defending had been. I managed to block every blow, even though it was a definite struggle. He was fast. And it had been a long, long time since I'd fought a worthy opponent. I may have underestimated him. But that wouldn't stop me from teaching him a lesson.
I blocked his final blow with a grunt and a yell, meeting his eyes above our coordinated tangle of arms. With a powerful shove, I pushed him backwards with as much strength as I could muster. Just a touch of shock met his expressionless features before I tossed my usual rulebook out the window and gave in to the base instinct that was taking over my brain.
Defend. Defeat. Destroy.
With a yell and burst of speed, I was running towards him, lowering my body to tackle him to the ground. I'd had enough logic, enough precision, enough by the book executions. I wanted to teach him a lesson he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon.
We hit the ground hard, and we were both swinging madly as we tumbled and rolled across the padded floor. There was motion all around us. Shouts and yells from commanders and cadets alike — some cheering the scuffle on, others expressing their immense displeasure of what was unfolding.
We both landed blows on each other, we both grunted and struggled to get out of each other's grasp. It was a blur of limbs constantly moving and vying for dominance over the other. I could taste my own blood and saw green smears on his face. I knew I truly regretted doing it, but damn if it didn't feel vindicating to see the man bleed.
"That's ENOUGH! Both of you, STOP! That's an order!"
Jim's shouts broke through the fog of violence coating my every nerve, sense and brain cell. It caused me to pause just long enough to have someone's arms wrap around me, pulling me backwards as I still swung and kicked at Spock to draw out more of that green blood.
Much to my surprise, the Vulcan was just as resistant as I was to being pulled apart. His flailing ceased much quicker than my own as Scotty and another crew member tugged him away from me. Spock's body stilled, but his intense, riled up stare bore into me as I still fought against whoever was trying to hold me back.
"Scotty, get him out of here. Everyone else needs to clear this room immediately and return to their quarters for the evening. That's an order. Move."
My breathing was ragged as my body slowly came into stillness, my eyes still razor-focused on Spock as he was led out of the room by Scotty. He peered back at me over his shoulder, his eyes still alight with hostility, before disappearing out of sight in the throng of cadets that were also vacating the training space.
Whoever was holding me loosened their grip as the room emptied. It was nearly impossible for me to catch my breath as I stared at the empty doorway. I still had so much more to unleash, more emotion to drain out of me in the form of punches into the deserving flesh of that coldhearted man's body.
I made an effort to swallow to find that my throat was painfully dry. The taste of blood in my mouth was strong. I could start to feel different aches in pains in my body as I came down from the high of fighting.
Jim stepped into my vision then, both of our duffle bags slung over his shoulder. His expression was hard, unreadable. I had no doubt that he was just as baffled and disappointed as I was that I had committed such blatant and damning insubordination.
"Lead the way to med bay, Bones. And don't let her out of your grip just yet. I'd help you out, but I'm still a bit slippery from all the sweat."
"Can I buy her a drink first for giving that pointy eared bastard what he deserves?"
The captain rolled his eyes and shot Bones a glare before heading towards the doorway, Bones tugging me along after him. He leaned down to my ear as I tried to regain my grip on reality.
"That was God's work, Aria. Job well done."
A smile tugged at the corner of my open lips that were still trying to draw in enough air for me to start calming down. The action brought pain and burning to my cheek, which told me there was probably some sort of cut bleeding down my face and into my mouth.
I managed to look up and focus my vision on the long corridor Bones was currently guiding me down. My eyes rested on Jim's back, his shirt still damp with sweat from our training session. I coughed a little as blood trickled its way down my throat, and the captain threw me a quick glance over his shoulder with something like concern and frustration painted across his face.
Bones' voice was in my ear again as I wondered just how bad the repercussions from this outburst would be, and how high they might cost.
"Next time, really go for the groin. I'd love to see the lesson that would teach him."
I managed a small chuckle in response, unable to string together a sentence through the regret, panic and adrenaline that were all currently at odds with one another in my body.
Attacking a commander? I may have very well just signed my own guaranteed removal from the Enterprise for trying to teach a man a lesson he would never learn. With any luck, I'd at least make him think twice before opening his mouth around me.
With another smirk to myself, I tried to focus on Jim's back. He, for the most part, held my fate in his hands, and it was obvious to me that he was just a tad upset at what had just transpired. I didn't blame him. I had just added more stress to his already full plate of duties, responsibilities and concerns.
But I'd be damned if I wouldn't revel in how good it felt to take Spock to the ground. As we rounded the corner into med bay, I flexed my fist as I recalled the blows I'd managed to land while simultaneously attempting to brace myself for whatever repercussions I would face. Cause and effect, punch and pay. It would seem that I would never learn.
Maybe I never would learn. Maybe history was destined to repeat itself. I'd face and accept my punishment just like I always had, and hopefully I hadn't just blown the last chance I'd have at some semblance of a fulfilling existence. And hopefully I hadn't just lost Jim in the process.
A sigh left my bloodied lips as Bones led me to an exam table in the relatively empty med bay. A thought rattled through my brain as Bones helped me sit down — before I could figure out where Jim was and look into his eyes to see what emotion lay there.
You gave him what he deserved. Apologize, but for the right reasons.
Right reasons. Sure, whatever those were. I sighed, straightened my spine with a wince, and steeled myself for the impact of my poor, poor choice. Man did I need to stop having and acting on the urge to punch Starfleet commanders in the face.