Ultramarine | The Darkest Minds Fanfic

Chapter 5, Sheena

In the course of the next two weeks, we trained every day, as Cole promised. We mostly trained in the evening, when most people were playing cards, watching news or what not, and the gym was unoccupied. After lights out, we would go back to his room, where we tried to explore what I could do with my ability without me causing him any permanent harm.

　　It was tiring, yes, because he almost never cut me any slacks, and I'd get, like, four hours of sleep each day, every day, but there's nothing to complain. Still, I've got the feeling that he sleeps even less than I do. There always seems to be an infinite amount of things he could go about after he dismisses me from his room.

　　I had to go very gentle on him in Close Combat because he was still healing from his wounds, but once he realized I was holding back, he changed his strategy completely.

　　"All right, I'm done with this." He announced, and stepped off the mat.

　　"Are you giving up?" I asked in a soft voice, trying to hide my disappointment. It's only been a few days, and if he's giving up on me so fast, that would say something about how much of a failure I am.

　　"No." He reached out, and pulled me closer to him. In fact, so close that I could feel the heat of his body radiating off his chest. He smelled like gunpowder and pinewood. "Heal me." He whispered into my ears, "I'm so sick of your chicken shit punches. I know you can do better."

　　I lifted my face and narrowed my eyes at him, our faces inches apart. "If you say so."

　　And with a touch, I started healing every bone, every muscle, every piece of broken skin on him. It took me probably no longer than two minutes, but I felt exhausted afterward. I sank down into the mats, and he crouched down in front of me.

　　"Are you feeling okay?" He asked.

　　I nodded, very slowly. "I think so. Just give me a minute."

　　"Okay." He stood up, "But when you're done, I want you to give me everything you got. No holding back, okay?"

　　Oh, I don't think you can handle it if I do. I thought.

　　When we got back on the mat, I finally feel like I could throw a real punch—better than those I did in classes, at least. The training in the gym that day ended with him letting out a gasp of half-pain, half-surprise as I flipped him over my shoulder and floored him on the mat, flat on his back.

　　"Okay, Fuchsia, I take that back." He chuckled as he stood up, "You'll have to go gentle with me from now on."

　　I smiled, too. For the first time in years, I think. That was all me—I didn't have to try holding my monster in, because it didn't try to get out, and I was in control—of my ability, of my body, of myself.

　　I didn't know how this came to be—me being here with him, now, feeling so peaceful and complete. I spent seven months getting to know the fake him, two months guessing who he really was, and yet now that we're here, he's here, it had felt so right, and none of those suspicions, none of those doubts, seemed to matter.

　　During the latter part of the nights, we discussed what I knew I could do, and tried to deduce what I might be able to do from them. For example, since I could numb someone's pain, does that mean I could numb, even stop other senses, too? This was one of the first things we confirmed to be true, albeit after some trials. I did accidentally trigger his adrenaline gland one time, and caused him to sweat and shivered intensely for a few minutes before I found a way to stop it.

　　The one thing I still couldn't manage, is doing things to others without physical contacts. I could do almost everything I want now—make him pass out, make him hyper, even stop his heart (he insisted that I tried)—but I've always had to do it with at least one finger touching his skin.