Strickler had been careful not to approach Jim after making his offer. He needed the boy to come to him. It was part of his plan.

Or rather that had been part of his plan…

Strickler watched out of the corner of his eye as Jim settled himself carefully into his desk flinching when his bag bumped his side on the way down. If he looked carefully he could see bruises showing from under the collar of his sweater. What concerned Walter the most, however, was the downward cast of his eyes and the hunch of his shoulders. The boy looked… beaten. Defeated.

He couldn't have that. Not if he wanted to play the boy's new influence to his advantage.

Mind made up, Strickler called Jim to stay back as soon as class ended.

"Yes?" Jim asked.

His voice quiet and rough as if he had a sore throat. Against his usual decorum his eyes remained fastened firmly on the floor.

"You're injured," Strickler said.

The boy glanced up and then back down, shoulders tensing.

"Yeah. I had my first… sparring match last night."

Strickler watched him for a moment.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well?"

Jim barked out a rough laugh and started coughing.

"Not really," he said once he managed to stop.

There was a moment of silence as Strickler contemplated his next move.

"I notice you're favoring your side. Have you had anyone look at it to make sure you don't have any broken ribs?"

Jim didn't respond, his hands coming up to clench at the strap of his backpack. Strickler sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Teenagers…

He let out another sigh and strode over to his desk. In his top drawer was a box of ibuprofen, he pulled it out, broke off a couple of the encased pills, and tossed them to the boy.

Jim looked up at him with a puzzled frown.

"Why…"

"You're in pain," Strickler stated. "I won't force you to get help, but you need to take care of yourself. This should at least help with the muscle pain. I can write you a pass to get you out of Mr. Lawrance's class next period, so you will have some more time to recover."

Jim was now staring at him, but Strickler pressed on.

"That said, if you start feeling worse, experiencing pain in your lungs, or, Lady forbid, coughing up blood, take yourself to the hospital immediately. You can tell them you crashed your bicycle. Broken ribs can puncture lungs and that is not pleasant, I assure you. Do I make myself clear?"

"I…" Jim turned the ibuprofen in his fingers before shoving it in his pocket. "Yeah… Thank-you."

Strickler nodded his acknowledgement and wrote the pass out. After handing it to Jim he returned to his desk and pulled out a stack of homework to grade. Jim drifted toward the door, but didn't open it. He stood there with his hand resting on the knob.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Strickler asked glancing up slightly.

Jim jerked and stared at him wide eyed. His mouth opened and closed a few times and then he looked down, running a hand through his hair. After a moment he lowered it and looked up again.

"I've never felt so humiliated," He said, voice low.

Strickler set his pen down and turned his full attention to his student.

"There's this troll, Draal, he's the previous Trollhunter's son," Jim continued with a bitter sounding laugh. "He said that he was supposed to have gotten the amulet, that I didn't deserve it because I wasn't a troll."

If those words didn't hit a little too close to home…

"He asked to spar with me. It wasn't really meant to be a spar though… he just wanted to show me that I was worthless."

Jim curled in on himself, shoulders tense. His fists clenched and Strickler, having a far better sense of smell than the average human, caught the metallic tang of blood in the air.

"He succeeded. I didn't stand a chance. It wasn't even a fight; it was a one sided beat down. I honestly thought he was going to kill me at one point."

Jim looked up at Strickler, eyes glistening and brows furrowed.

"I… I tried to get rid of it afterward -the amulet, I mean- but it just keeps reappearing."

He let out another laugh, but this one sounded closer to a sob.

"Blinky says it's a call I can't refuse, my destiny, but it certainly doesn't feel like it. I'm just a stupid weak teenager. I've never even been in a fight before all this. The amulet has to have made a mistake."

Strickler had known that the Trollhunter could not refuse their call, but he had assumed it was more of a cultural thing. The trolls would not accept the chosen one's refusal. Not when the amulet would not bond to another while they were still living. He had never imagined that Merlin would make it so that the chosen champion would never have a moment of peace.

Jim was looking at him with something in his expression. Something vulnerable and almost desperate. Whatever Strickler said next would be important.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, choosing his words carefully.

"I can't say that I believe in destiny," He said finally. "Life is many things, but it is not pre-planned. Having said that, I do know what it's like to be stuck in a bad situation… When that happens you can either resign yourself to it or… you can make the situation work for you."

Jim's gaze slowly drifted back up.

"I'm not going to claim it will get easier," Strickler said, moving from behind his desk to go stand at the window. "If anything the opposite will happen: those in control hate people who won't accept their place."

His lip curled a little as he said that, old memories flickering through his mind. He turned and leveled his gaze at Jim and the boy stared back in rapt attention.

"Don't heed them. Be angry, be ruthless, be selfish. Make your own destiny. It may continue to get harder, but it will be worth it."

Strickler took a deep breath and moved back behind his desk.

"That is the best advice I can give. Look after yourself and don't let them break your back, Young Atlas. You deserve far better."

Jim blinked twice and then looked down at his hands, brow furrowing slightly. After a moment, he looked back up at Strickler, his eyes slowing tracing over the changeling's face as if he was looking for something. Walter straightened up slightly.

"Thank-you," Jim said softly.

Jim watched him for a moment longer and then left the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. Strickler settled back into his chair thinking over what had just happened.

Strickler wasn't expecting to see Jim again so soon, certainly not within the next day. The boy opened the door quite loudly causing Strickler to jump and reach for his pocket.

"I want to take your offer."

Strickler blinked owlishly, at a loss.

"I mean your offer to train me," Jim clarified.

Strickler blinked again, taking a moment to process that statement and then another to observe the boy. His shoulders were still tense but there was a determined glint to his eyes this time. He looked ready to fight.

"I see," Strickler said, pleased.

He had spent most of last night listening to Bular rant about the new Trollhunter being human and how it was a personal insult to him. It was nice to have something go his way for once.

"Come. Have a seat," He put on a relaxed smile as he waved a hand at the piano bench but his mind was already churning. "We shall get the details all worked out."

Jim nodded eagerly, closing the door behind him.