Who? N / L (Assassin!verse! - realized I forgot to post this one, so a bit out of order. Would take place before Trench...)
Boxing
"The lights are spinnin'
I gotta get myself up off the floor
My head is ringin'
Bet they think I can't take too much more
The crowd is howlin'
Like the ocean's pounding roar
My legs are goin' out
Someone up there don't like me
Now my right and my left will decide
'Cause they're done with this bum takin' dives
Now my eyes may be swollen with right hooks and tears
But I see salvation tonight
In a left and a right."
- Royal Crown Revue, The Contender (forgot how much I loved this band!)
He preferred using the training facilities before anyone else would come in and distract him. Before dawn, before the day began, before his Blackberry began flashing with messages, before the security threats and office politics…this was the one place he could find some peace - the one location where things still made sense.
"Spent some time in the ring?"
Nick removed his wireless headphones and looked up from the speed bag he had been abusing for at least fifteen minutes. It wasn't that women weren't allowed in this part of the gym, it was just that they rarely strayed into the territory. For some strange reason, he wasn't surprised to see Leda standing in front him, arms crossed, her mahogany hair pulled into a high pony tail revealing classically gorgeous bone structure - even at five in the morning.
"When I was a younger man." He wouldn't mention that before MI6 took over his career, he was the undisputed boxing champion of the airship carrier he had been assigned to.
"Care to spar?"
He hadn't seen her since the incident at the dinner. After the song had ended, although it had literally given him physical pains to do so, he had released her and left the party. The next morning, back at 10 Downing, he consciously avoided her, unsure what he should do or say. She returned the favor by keeping to the kitchens.
That had been three weeks ago.
No movement had been made towards the Prime Minister during the long and drawn out days, but reports continued to suggest that some sinister plan was imminent. All signs pointed to a domestic attack. Everyone on the property continually operated at the highest threat levels. Fortunately, with the PM away at a global summit, both had a few days off to recharge and rest.
Standing in her wonderfully tight black yoga pants, she looked expectantly at him.
He finally answered, "Sure. Will you fight clean?"
"If you promise not to hold back."
On pure muscle and weight, Nick easily had the advantage. However, he knew her stats, she was trained in numerous martial arts, was deadly with or without a weapon, and unlike most women, was only a few inches shorter than his 6'3". He nodded and said, "Let's do this."
Stepping into the ring, they both silently stretched, wrapped their hands, and inserted mouthguards. Touching gloves in the center of the space, she came out abruptly with a swift right hook, nearly catching him off guard. One of his strongest qualities as a boxer was his ability to stay light and fast on his feet. Flashing her a cocky smile, he neatly backed away and, through the plastic in his mouth asked, "That all you got?"
Lightning sparked in her eyes, and she was in front of him in an instant, landing a number of surprisingly strong blows to his core. Noting that she hadn't even broken a sweat, the smallest frame of doubt crept into his mind. Not saying a word, they fought as equals, neither noting the crowd who had gathered to watch. It wasn't until some time later, both glistening in perspiration and breathing heavily that he saw his chance. She had momentarily left her left hand down, creating a window for him to connect. Forgetting societies rules about hitting a woman, he put all his strength into a right cross.
She flew back on the mat.
Although there was silence around them, he didn't feel regret. If anything, he knew she would work harder until their next match...and found himself looking forward to that time.
AN: Trust me, Nick's a lover, not a fighter.