Quiet Hate

Angst

The next day passes slowly. Agonizingly. I can't help but feel like I should have accepted König's apology.

Then I remember what he said, and how unnecessary it was, and I stop.

When Monday morning finally rolls around, and I pull up to work, I run my hands over my face. I am not motivated to go through today, not after what happened.

My worry was for nothing, because König is not in sight. The rest of the team stops by for a moment, and then they head out for all-day training. They don't mention where König might be, and I don't ask. Simon is friendly enough, but doesn't try to talk - he must be focused.

That night, I go to the training center, like normal. But, I put up my jacket over the window in the door so, at first glance, there's no one in here. I'm slowly increasing my efforts. I add more consecutive moves. I feel strong.

Halfway through my session, I hear the door handle turning, and freeze as Simon enters.

"Hey," he says, smiling. "I thought maybe I could be just as good of company as Steve."

"Okay," I say, kind of uncertain.

"We'll start with some easy stuff," he says. "That way you can get used to doing it with a moving target."

I end up staying later than normal. Simon slowly shows me counter-moves and explains each thing clearly. At the end, I feel better than I did after a week by myself.

"You're a fast learner," he says on our way out. We stop by my Jeep. "But really, Flora, don't feel like you have to..."

I shake my head. "No, I want to do this."

"At this rate, you'll be caught up to us in a month," Simon says. I know he's exaggerating, but it makes me feel a little better.

"We'll see," I say. "Thanks for your help tonight."

He opens my Jeep door for me, and once I get in, he hands me my backpack.

"Simon," I say as he turns to go, "Why did you defend me to König?"

"I've never liked that weird motherfucker," Simon says, his irritation clear, "But you... remind me of someone. A girl I grew up with. She was strong, smart, and capable, and it's refreshing to see others with her same spirit."

I don't probe on the use of past-tense, but I offer a smile. "Well, thank you," I say.

"Did he apologize after I stormed out?"

"He tried," I say, buckling myself in. "I told him to shove it."

Simon's eyes crinkle under the mask. "Good," he says. "Well, we better get to bed."

After telling him goodnight, I head back to my house.

The rest of the week, Simon and I train each night. I've been getting better, and he's been going easier on me, but I know it's probably not enough - not in my opinion, and probably not in König's. Speaking of, he's stayed gone. No one has mentioned him, but I haven't heard that he's left the 141 or anything, so I have no idea what's going on.

The following Monday, I get to work early. I've taken a rest day, so I had some more time this morning. I settle in at my desk, feeling refreshed and ready for the week, when I sense a change in the air.

Why can I feel him? Why is his negative presence so palpable?

"What do you need?" I ask, my voice monotone, as I feel him come closer.

"I'm not here for you," comes the response.

I roll my eyes, turning around and looking at him.

He walks to Price's office, emerging with a file. He takes a seat at an empty desk in the corner.

Annoyed, I turn back around.

"This building is fair game to anyone employed within it," König's annoying voice says.

"I'm aware," I say.

"Just making sure," he says.

I'm about to mouth off to him when Simon comes in, followed by a few other employees here. SImon comes up to my desk.

"I come bearing gifts," he says, and I turn to face him, ignoring the too-big figure in the back. Simon pulls a paper bag from behind his back, and holds it open for me to see.

"Croissants?" I say, clapping my hands. "My favorite!"

"With a cold brew," he says, pulling that from behind his back, too.

"Thank you, Simon," I say, grinning. "I appreciate it. I'll have to make it up."

"Another batch of your baked goods would be incredible," Simon says, depositing the gift on my desk before reaching in and taking a croissant for himself.

"Consider it done," I say.

Farah calls for Simon, and he pats my chair before following behind her.

A faint smile still on my face, I open the bag to take out a croissant. I briefly look up and see König's eyes on me. I could be imagining it, but it looks like he's scowling.

Scowling back, I turn around in my seat, pulling up the research I needed to take care of, and ignore him.