It was late afternoon, the sun throwing long shadows across the training facility. The drills had been harder that day, Bob wasn't holding back that much anymore. Not after seeing how much the group had improved. They were still clumsy, still raw, but there was something forming there. A team, maybe.
After wrapping up their cooldowns and sending everyone to the showers or the mess hall, Bob stayed behind, throwing precise strikes at a training dummy, fast, clean, efficient. He wasn't trying to work out aggression. This was focus. Control.
Then he saw her.
She wasn't there a moment ago. At the edge of the room, half-shrouded by a support beam, stood a figure dressed in matte black tactical gear, a full SWAT suit with a high collar and body armor that hugged her slim frame. A black helmet and mask concealed most of her face, but her piercing blue eyes watched him intently.
Bob froze.
Only one person looked at him like that. Only one person moved that silently, with that blend of soldier's poise and dancer's grace. And he hadn't seen her in five years.
"…Lena?"
The woman didn't speak.
Bob dropped his arms to his sides, his tone guarded now. "You going to say something or just keep hiding behind that mask like a ghost?"
Slowly, she removed the helmet and tugged down the mask. Blonde hair fell free in a tight braid. Her expression was unreadable, those unmistakable eyes narrowing slightly.
"You've gotten slower," she said flatly.
Bob exhaled a small laugh, tension rising in his chest. "And you're still dramatic as hell. You gonna tell me what you're doing here, or am I supposed to guess?"
"I was assigned here three days ago," she replied. "Security detail. Jack requested me personally."
Bob's jaw clenched. "He didn't tell me."
"I asked him not to." She stepped closer, but stopped just short of him. "I wanted to see who you were now… before I decided if you're worth trusting."
Bob looked away for a second, jaw working. "That why you've been watching me during training?"
"I wanted to see if you were faking it. Being the good guy."
"And?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet."
He scoffed. "Sounds about right."
They stood in silence for a moment, the space between them heavy with unsaid things. Ghosts.
She broke it first. "They don't know, do they? About what you did. About who you were."
"No," Bob said. "And I'd prefer it stayed that way."
Lena nodded slowly. "For now. But I'm not here to protect your secrets. I'm here for the kid too. And if you slip—"
"You won't have to finish that sentence, I've heard it way too many times from Jack." Bob said quietly.
Lena turned, starting to walk away, then paused. "You still train 24/7?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Always."
"Good." She looked over her shoulder. "Then I'll see you at midnight."
She disappeared around the corner, boots silent against the floor.
Bob stood there for a moment, motionless. Then, under his breath:
"Of course Jack brought you back."
He turned back to the dummy and hit it hard, once, sharp and controlled. Then again.
...
Midnight came, silent and cold.
The training room was dimly lit, most of the lights powered down, casting long shadows over the mats and equipment. Bob stood at the center, shirt clinging to his back from the heat of his earlier workout. He wasn't expecting to spar again, but then again, he should've known better with Lena.
She stepped into the room exactly on the hour, punctual as ever. Still in the SWAT gear, mask removed this time, braid tight and expression unreadable. Her presence was sharper now, less ghost, more soldier.
"You're early," Bob muttered.
"You're still here," she replied simply, circling slowly toward the mats.
Bob gave a faint smirk. "Of course, wouldn't miss our date."
"Still running from it, huh?" she said.
He arched an eyebrow. "From what?"
Lena stopped across from him. "Your powers. You don't use them. Not in training. Not with the trainees. Not even when you're sparring alone. Why?"
Bob's expression darkened for a moment. "Because I don't need them."
"That's not an answer."
He turned his back to her, walking toward the bench to grab a towel. "You wouldn't understand."
"I wouldn't understand?" Her tone sharpened, echoing slightly in the quiet space. "Rafael, I was there. I was with you. I saw what happened, what you did."
He froze.
Lena stepped forward. "I know what those powers can do. And I know why you're scared of them. But not using them doesn't mean they go away. It just means you're waiting for someone else to get hurt."
Bob dropped the towel, slowly turning around. His jaw clenched. "Come at me. If you really think I'm hiding, test me."
Her eyes gleamed. "Fine."
And then she was gone.
A crackle of energy sparked in the air and she reappeared behind him, fist already swinging. Bob ducked instinctively, pivoting and sweeping his leg. She teleported again before the sweep could connect, materializing mid-air and landing in a low stance.
"Still fast," she muttered.
He didn't answer. They clashed.
Lena was relentless. Vanishing and reappearing in unpredictable angles, kicking off walls, flipping, diving, her teleportation wasn't just a power, it was an extension of her combat style. But Bob… Bob didn't need that.
He read her movements, eyes tracking flickers of energy a split second before she rematerialized. His hands moved with trained precision, blocking blows, redirecting strikes, countering with just enough force to keep her off balance without hurting her.
She teleported mid-punch, he anticipated it, catching her wrist as she reappeared and twisting her arm behind her back.
"Yield," he said, low and calm.
She gritted her teeth and vanished again, escaping his grip. When she landed this time, it was on her knees, chest heaving.
Bob didn't move.
"You're still fighting like you've already been to hell," she said between breaths.
He stayed silent.
"You didn't need your powers," she continued, almost reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean the day won't come when you do."
He walked over, grabbing the towel again, dabbing sweat from his face. "I'm not trying to be a hero, Lena. Just trying to keep them alive."
Her expression softened, just a little.
"You've changed," she admitted.
"Yeah. He changed me." He looked over at her. "But enough to forget what happened last time I let go? No."
She stood, brushing off her knees. "One day, Bob, you're going to have to stop punishing yourself. And forgive yourself, like i did."
He didn't answer.
She walked past him, and as she reached the exit, she paused. "Next time," she said, "Please don't hold back. I want to see you fight."
And then she was gone.
Bob stood there for a moment, then looked down at his hand. It was trembling, just slightly.
He clenched it into a fist.
Midnight was over.
Morning was coming.
And he had a class to teach.
…
The next morning came quietly. Bob stood on the far end of the training room, arms crossed, watching the group stumble in one by one, groggy, yawning, barely awake.
Ryan was the first to arrive, tossing his jacket aside and flopping onto the mat with a dramatic groan. "Tell me again why we train at sunrise?"
"Because I'm a masochist," Bob replied dryly. "And I like watching you all suffer."
Beth entered next, sipping from an oversized smoothie cup, already scrolling on her phone. "Morning, grandpa."
"I'm twenty-three."
"You act like you're eighty."
Alex slipped in behind her, trying to hide a laugh. "She's not wrong."
Selena strutted in shortly after, as if she'd just walked off a runway, tossing her hair dramatically before taking her place near the edge. "Okay, who's getting knocked out today?"
Axel was last marching in stiffly, standing at attention like he was reporting for duty.
Bob clapped his hands. "Alright, children. Warm-ups. Then we're splitting into pairs for sparring. Axel, you're with Ryan. Beth, with Alex. Selena, you're with me."
Selena grinned. "Ooh, finally."
"That wasn't that kind of invitation," Bob muttered, rubbing his temples.
They got moving, reluctantly, but moving nonetheless. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and half-hearted grunts filled the massive room as everyone went through the warm-ups. Jumping jacks. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Laps.
Bob paced in front of them like a drill sergeant, but more deadpan. "If you throw up, throw up on Ryan. He can take it."
Ryan, halfway through a lunge, muttered something under his breath, but didn't stop.
When warm-ups were over and the group split off into pairs, Bob turned to face Selena. She was already stretching, her tight black outfit looking more like something from a high-end fashion shoot than combat gear. Her smirk widened when she saw him approach.
"So," she said, standing up. "Gonna go easy on me, teach?"
"No," Bob replied. "You're just going to make it look like I am."
She stepped into the circle, rolling her shoulders with theatrical flair. "I've seen the way you train the others. All serious and tough-love. You sure you can handle someone like me?"
Bob raised a brow. "Try me."
The moment the word left his mouth, Selena lunged.
She was fast, much faster than he expected. Her first move was a feint, followed by a low sweep at his legs. Bob jumped over it and countered with a light palm strike to her shoulder, sending her stumbling back.
"Nice try," he said calmly.
Selena licked her lips and smiled. "Okay. Your turn."
She charged again, faster this time. Her strikes were a mix of acrobatics and precision, weaving in kicks with sudden pivots. Bob didn't use a single blast of power. He didn't even seem to break a sweat. Every time Selena went in, he blocked, redirected, dodged. Never aggressive, never passive, just calculated.
"Focus on your center," he said, sidestepping another strike and tapping the back of her knee to throw her off balance. "Your stance collapses when you throw full-body kicks."
Selena hit the mat, not hard, but enough to let her know she'd lost the exchange. She stayed there for a moment, panting, her eyes on him.
"You make it look easy."
"It's not."
"Do you always fight like this?"
Bob didn't answer. He offered her a hand instead. She took it, letting him pull her up. She was about to say something else when she noticed his eyes shift toward the training room's glass door.
There, standing in the shadowed hallway, was Lena.
She wore her full SWAT gear, helmet off, mask up, only her sharp blue eyes visible. Her gaze wasn't angry, or jealous. Just… curious. Studying.
Bob didn't flinch. Didn't acknowledge her, either. But Selena noticed. Her smile faltered slightly.
"That a friend of yours?"
"Nah, mhh... maybe." Bob said, brushing off his shirt.
Selena raised an eyebrow. "Maybe?"
Bob looked back at her, tone unreadable. "Get water. We go again in five."
Selena backed off, breathing heavily.
Meanwhile, Lena didn't move. She stayed where she was, silent as a shadow, eyes fixed on the man who once destroyed mountains but now chose to teach instead.
For a moment, Bob looked like a ghost of his old self.
And then, he turned back to the room and barked, "Ryan! Keep your elbows in unless you want your face broken!"
Business as usual.
But Lena didn't leave.
She stayed. Watching. Wondering. Remembering.
And Bob… Bob kept pretending not to notice.