SHIELD Agent Eleanor Flint

Chapter 30

"Your feet are wrong," Bucky said. I looked down at my feet as he nudged them apart with his foot. "Better. Okay, fists up."

I held up my fists and Bucky reached forward to adjust them before holding up his open hands for me to punch. My fist met the palm of his hand. 

"Nice!" Bucky grinned. "Again."

I threw a second punch that hit his palm with a smack. That got a sound of amusement from Dugan and Bucky closed his hand around my fist. He shook it lightly in an encouraging manner before he let go and stepped back. 

"Those are some solid punches, you're doing great, Ellie," he said. "A word of advice, is that a lot of the force comes from the pull back. Your shoulder does a lot of the work, that's why boxers have that hunched over stance." Bucky mimicked that stance and slowly thrust his fist forward, showing me how his shoulder moved. "Got it?"

"Mhm." I nodded.

"Try that." He stood upright and held up his palm.

I mimicked the stance and shoulder movement that Bucky demonstrated. My fist met with is palm and his hand was pushed back slightly. Bucky grinned at his hand, then at me. It was a genuine grin that we so rarely got to see and it was contagious. I smiled back at him and lowered my fist.

"Stevie, she's learning faster than you," Bucky intoned. 

"That's fine," Steve looked up from his sketch book.

Bucky smiled at him before turning back to me. "Let's try the two left, one right- or... you're left-handed aren't you?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Swell, me too," he said. "So, in our case, the two right, one left." To demonstrate, Bucky turned to the side and punched the air twice with his right hand, then made a stronger swing with his left. I mimicked the move and he nodded. "Yeah, you got it." He turned back to me and held up his palm. "Give it a go."

I repositioned myself and held my fists up. There was a beat, then I punched twice with my right, and one big swing with my left. Bucky grinned and chuckled. I smiled, pleased with myself. Bucky nodded for me to go again, and I did. This time, as I punched, Bucky mumbled to himself. "Boom, boom, pow." I laughed and punched again. Bucky mumbled "boom, boom, pow." I stepped back and swung my leg up to lightly tap his hand with my foot. Bucky smiled and lowered his hand.

"There! Now you can punch a Nazi in the face!" He exclaimed.

Or a punching bag.

I swung again and the punching bag did not give me any feedback. Except for its backswing, but punching bags don't talk so what was I expecting? It had been two days since I kicked Henry out of my apartment. I hadn't seen him at work, and I was glad. I didn't want to confront him, he probably didn't want to see me. We were going to keep it that way.

But, there was a part of me that did want to see him. That wanted to apologize for the way I treated him. No. I don't have to apologize, I did nothing wrong. Henry should be the one to apologize. Anytime we got into a fight, he was the one to provoke it. But it was always me who said something to provoke him. No. It's not my fault. It's none of our faults. We weren't made for each other. Maybe I should tell him that, have some closure.

Someone called my name as my fist hit the bag again. I exhaled and vapor clouded around me. I turned away from the punching bag and swiped a strand of hair from my face. Sitwell stood at the edge of the gym mat, dressed in his usual suit. My shoulders relaxed and I held my hand up to stop the punching bag from swinging back to me.