Atlas (A Selection/Hat Films Fanfiction)

~ Twenty Seven ~

"Is it rude to ask if you ever did anything fun in your old life?" Ross asked, his shoulder shifting under my temple as he adjusted in his seat. We had come down to the theater to watch a movie, but we had ended up talking too much to start anything.

I sat up. "Why would it be rude?" I asked light heartedly, blinking in the dim light coming from the blank screen.

"I did not want to imply that you never had fun. . ." he trailed quietly.

"Cage fighting was fun," I admitted with a huff of a laugh, "the rush, the joy, the savage glee of fighting. . . I was a real elite. Not every person gets to do that." I reached over to take his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.

"I guess I do not understand," he muttered, the profile of his face lighting up blue, "Did it not. . . hurt?"

I couldn't stop a hearty laugh from escaping my mouth. "I mean, yeah. . . but to pour all your blood, sweat, and tears – literally – into a victory. . . I couldn't describe it to someone whose never been in the ring."

"I always looked down on violence," the prince told me quietly, "it has only caused war and pain. . ."

The seats in the theater were huge. I crawled over and sat with my legs bent over his, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek to cheer him up. "That's just it though," I explained, "humans are violent creatures; it's a part of us. I feel connected to violence in a visceral way that's hard to quantify."

"And you've been doing this for years?" he asked inquisitively, seeming genuinely interested if not a little uncomfortable.

"I don't have a lot of memories of those first couple years after my. . . parents died," I said, tripping on the part about my mother and father, "but I do remember what it was like to start fighting."

I felt safe and warm and comfortable, and as I looked into Ross's eyes and saw the depths of care I let the memories of Sjin flood back in. "I was so bad, and so slow to pick it up," I admitted, my eyes unfocusing, "but when I started seeing improvement. . . and when I started winning and making money. . . but even still, there's an emotional involvement. You have to be completely present."

I closed my eyes and suddenly I was back at the warehouse, practicing moves as the sun rose and flooded the building with light. Hearing the cheers and the banging of fists on the fence was like nothing else. I could almost taste the weird energy cocktail Sjin used to mix up.

"Do you miss it?" Ross asked quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I answered almost instantly. I hadn't thought about fighting for a long time, but now I'm realizing that I might have been going through withdrawals when I first arrived. That rush of endorphins was an addicting high. Maybe that's why I've felt so physically out of balance here.

I thought about asking Alex if I could get back into the barracks' gym, but immediately regretted it and desperately pushed the thoughts away.

"It really was an art," I whispered leaning closer into Ross so he could wrap his arms around me. I paused, thinking about how ridiculous it was to talk about fighting while in a dress that cost 50 winning matches by itself. "I bet your other Elites have real talents," I continued with a breathy laugh, "Anouk plays piano, doesn't she?"

"I would rather not talk about the other Elites, Atlas," Ross said cautiously.

I carried on, returning to the discussion of fighting and looking away in embarrassment. "It became so complex, but when I was in the ring with someone at the same skill level?" I mused, sighing, "It was all worth it when I learned to analyze the opponent mid-fight, string together impossibly difficult moves, and pull them off flawlessly."