Training Sessions

Summary: What happens in the training hall, stays there. OneShot- Teresa, Cassidy.

Warning: Language. Minimally. It's Rese.

Set: Story-unrelated

Disclaimer: Standards apply.

It all comes down to this.

Or everything led up to this – neither of them has an idea as to what to call it and how to think of it. It happened. That's the most accurate description either of them can give.

As to every story, there are two sides.

Teresa. Cassidy.

One of them would wildly deny everything and anything, blushing furiously and storming from the room when the questioner wouldn't back down. One of them would grin lazily and blink innocently, and both the grin as well as the fake-innocent expression would fool many. But not her, of course, and not anyone who knows them.

And she hates how he can read her, and hates how he uses it to his advantage.
And he loves how he can make her squirm, and loves how she always raises to his baits.

(And both of them are a tiny little bit out of breath from training and a tiny little bit too close to each other because it's a training spar and it's supposed to be this way.)

As in every story, there is a beginning.

Ireland. France.

And a meeting point somewhere in between. No going back, no turning around. No past and no future, either, because their path has already been laid out a long time ago. And one of them would fight and deny, and one of them would shrug and accept. Both ways are ways to cope, both legitimate. Different, yes, but at the heart of things what does it matter? Cassidy can fight as much as he wants but he is a hunter carrying both a blessing and a gift, and as much as Teresa accepts what she is she still is able to feel everything others feel and it doesn't make it any less difficult. In the great scheme of things Cassidy thinks he is doomed. But he also thinks Teresa is cursed, and the thought might be killing him.

She knows Cassidy thinks she is crazy, putting everything she is into what destiny has chosen for her to be.
Teresa isn't sure whether he is blasphemous or just plain annoying, because nobody questions their way of life more often than he does.

And of course, every story ends with the ending.

There is a path towards Forever that branches off in many different directions, crosses hills and seas and deserts and still never ends. But the universe is made of stories, not of atoms. And while both of them know that deep down, the saying is wrong; they also know it is absolutely right. The rest of it is found in anecdotes, short scenes, sentences even. Broken and fragmented, all these moments that add up to a perfect whole again and again, no matter how fragile they look from the outside. Endings are the beginnings of new stories , after all.

…

"What do you want with that?"

Cassidy realizes he is staring, and it perhaps is the reason why she is glaring at him like that.

"You mind?"

Actually, he does. Teresa has no sense of holding back, no patience when it comes to hunting. She is the first to be on the front lines, the one who rather would strike first and ask later. Her weapon of choice today is not only ridiculous but impractical and doesn't fit her personality at all. He might only have known her for a month but even he can see that much.

He crosses his arms. "You don't fight second line."

"How nice of you to notice," she bites back. "But you know what? You don't know me at all. Don't you dare judge me." And for good measure she calls him a human slang name he wouldn't have thought she knew.

"Fine. So do demonstrate." Crossing his arms, he steps back. Teresa glares at him and then turns away, and suddenly he gets the feeling to her, he does not exist anymore. Nothing in the training hall does anmore. Ten minutes later he has been stunned into total silence.

Cassidy has always prided himself in knowing people, being able to judge them quickly and accurately. Teresa is a close-combat fighter. Her daggers suit her perfectly. Never would he have believed she had such a hand with a simple bow.

"It's not like she would ever use it in a real fight," Terrance tells him when he comes into the training hall and finds him staring at Teresa in frozen surprise. "But she has nearly perfect aim." He gives him a look of mixed pity and amusement. "You didn't tell her she wasn't a person for this kind of weapon?"

Mute, Cassidy shakes his head. Terrance grins. "Yeah, she has stunned a few others as well." Thoughtful, he follows Teresa's movements with his eyes. "You know what? Better don't tell anyone you underestimated her like that. She'd kill you." The hunter girl is now moving through the training hall, rolling, falling, jumping and dodging, and all the while she continues shooting arrows at the different dummies hanging everywhere. Every arrow goes straight into the figures' hearts.

"Amazing, huh?" Terrance asks. Cassidy just watches.

It was totally in her character he figured, even if it was years later. Teresa might be impatient and quick. But she has a calm side, a patient one, and she is willing to stress the other in order to hide the one. It gives her advantages nobody knows of. Plus, this is the only real activity that can calm her down. Her focus is amazing, always would be. The most people who only know the impatient, hasty Teresa never saw the best part of her.

Her last arrow comes flying straight at him and clatters to the ground at his feet. "Never do that again."

He doesn't answer, just looks at her.

…

"I. Told. You!"

Teresa was seeing red. Literally. Veils of blood were dancing in front of her eyes, narrowing down her field of vision into one long tunnel. At the end of it stood Cassidy, calm as the Angel pleased. And God, she was pissed at him. Words were not enough to express the rage that was boiling up inside her at his sight.

She guessed she was screeching. She didn't care.

"I told you! Teacher told you! Everyone told you, dammit! But you just couldn't listen! Sneak away in broad daylight to talk to night things who have been accused of a breach of treaty? What the hell were you thinking? You have nothing to do with this investigation, absolutely nothing, you are a fucking part of it! You were not allowed to leave the house! But no, Mister Perfect Hunter here has to go and compromise the most important Conclave since the Treaty was signed by getting himself involved in a personal quest for revenge! And you have the cheek to come walking in again and pretend nothing has happened? To lie to me?"

And don't even try to look innocent? It was probably what hurt her most. Next to her incredible anger at him, she had worried herself sick.

Cassidy glared right back, his normally light eyes a stormy grey now. Fury had replaced the weariness which had been painted on his features when he had first stepped into the training hall. He had come there directly, knowing full well she would have noticed his absence and would be there. She had been there knowing full well he would come. It was a crooked game, their dancing around each other without actually touching, and it included this as well.

"If the shifters had killed your parents, and if they were on trial, wouldn't you go for them as well?"

"You killed them?" Her voice rose a few octaves as she stared at him in utter disbelief. "You actually went there, marched into their lair, and killed them?"

There was no blood on his clothes, he showed no sign of a struggle. It didn't matter. Both of them knew there were many ways of disposing of night things without leaving behind evidence.

"Of course I didn't!"

Her doubt seemed to hurt him but the fury in his eyes was enough to make her forget the slight tone of pain she thought she might have detected in his voice.

"I'm not stupid. I just wanted to talk to them."

"I don't believe it." Teresa raked her hands through her hair, turned away, walked a few steps, came back again. Glared at him. She wanted to hit him, hit something, and wanted to do it badly. Here he was – Cassidy – member of her Clave and supposedly the best one of them. "You know, you usually are the one who is anal about rules!"

His glare intensified. "If you want to point out I didn't think this through…" Threats now laced his voice. Teresa jumped on it thankfully, because with that, she could deal.

"Don't give me that crap! You didn't think, you went there being the arrogant, selfish bastard you are, thinking of noble revenge for your parents who died oh-so-bravely to protect their only son who ruins their sacrifice by…"

His blow came out of nowhere. It surprised her – floored her completely – because Cassidy never lost it. Ever. For a second, she could only stare at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his breath coming out uneven and forced.

"Don't you ever…" He made another swing at her, one she dodged. Not easily, because it was Cassidy and he was fast. But she was prepared this time. "…Talk…" His next blow was faked and she fell for it, took another hit to her ribs and felt the air rush from her lungs. For a tiny second, fear flashed through her mind. He's totally losing it. She could deal with an angry Cassidy, or with when he teased her. But he was glaring at her now as if she was his enemy, and that was something that scared her. "…About my parents like that!" His kick connected with her stomach, sent her flying across the training hall. In a flash of movement he was in front of her again, gathered her up from the wall she had flown into. The material of her T-shirt bunched in his fist and made it hard to breathe, even more so because her breath had left her when he had kicked her. Teresa lashed out blindly and Cassidy's glasses went flying.

Time slowed to a halt.

Suddenly it was only her and Cassidy and his hand on her shirt. His grip didn't loosen immediately. Teresa's eyes travelled from the glasses on the ground up to his hand on her clothing, and his hand up his arm to his shoulder, and then to his face. His eyes. Cassidy was staring at her in utter terror. It was etched all over his face, shone from his eyes, and she swallowed thickly. Without his glasses, his eyes were incredibly grey, intense and dangerous like unknown waters. Adrenaline flooded her again, made her forget her bruised ribs and ringing head. She concentrated on Cassidy, whose grip loosened on her ever so slightly, and then the horror seeped from his eyes into his entire features. It was terrifying to watch. His hand let go of her T-shirt, shoving her away as if she had burnt him. Her already bruised shoulder blades impacted on the wall a second time. And the whole time, his eyes didn't leave hers.

It terrified her.

Both because it was scary and because he seemed to terribly afraid suddenly.

"Cass-" Pushing herself away from the wall, she stretched out a hand and almost immediately withdrew it when he shrank from her as if she was poisonous. "What's the matter?" Three years of partnership, and she had never seen him like this. He just continued to look at her as if he was drinking her image – and as if her features were poisonous, horrendous. It was as if he was watching something terribly distressing and ugly and was unable to look away. It hurt. She didn't try to touch him this time, just moved closer. "Cassidy…"

As if she had broken a spell, he lifted his hands, clamped them over his eyes as if her view was painful. His fingers were trembling. His entire body was trembling. "My glasses…"

"Oh." She struggled for them and pushed them into his shaking hand. Putting them on, he sank to the ground as if he had suddenly lost every bone in his body. Wordless, Teresa cowered onto the ground next to him and waited. He needed seven minutes to find his voice and composure again – seven minutes, four hundred and twenty seconds and approximately a thousand heart beats. Her breath still came fast. Cassidy still was shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Fuck," he mumbled without looking at her. Teresa only managed a dry laugh that sounded like she got a really bad case of flu.

"Teacher is so going to kill me. You. The two of us."

"I won't tell anything if you keep quiet."

Which was a deal, but one that had her definitely giving too much and him too little. It always was like that, Teresa thought tiredly. He had compromised an ongoing investigation, had broken a dozen rules, had attacked her without the set rules for combat training, had caused her two cracked ribs and a slight concussion. She had nothing to gain from their deal, while he had everything to lose. And still she knew she wouldn't report him, and he knew she wouldn't no matter what it would cost her. At the memory of his tortured expression Teresa found she couldn't do anything that might punish him further.

She needed four years to ask him what he had seen when he had looked at her.

…

"Oh yeah!"

Cassidy could hear Ten's voice the moment he entered the house. It had been a long night. He was tired, and covered in mud. The vampire he and Teresa had been hunting down had taken them through an autumn forest wet with the downpours of the last weeks. He had mud splashes all over his jeans, his coat was drenched and his glasses fogged up the moment he stepped into the warm house entrance. Teresa behind him was dripping wet as well, only she had avoided stepping into the mud hole that had swallowed him pretty much up. She, in the meantime, had gotten into the fight with the vampire, so she was covered in blood and ashes. Her own blood, mostly, but Cassidy had made sure the wounds underneath had already closed up again. She still looked like bloody hell, literally, and he supposed he didn't look better.

Only Rese managed to look hot in her wet and bloody state, though.

Swallowing, he turned away and peeled his jacket off. Noise, laughter and screams emanated from the top floor.

"What the hell are they doing in the training hall?" Teresa asked, managing to sound tired, annoyed and assuming the worst all at once. Their wet feet left traces on the stone tiles as they passed through the entrance hall. The floor was warm, thanks the Angel. The great door to the training hall was cracked open. Both hunters peered through it.

"What the…" Teresa repeated and threw open the door. That was the moment a hand full of water-filled balloons came flying in their direction and drenched them completely. Not that it mattered anymore.

"Whoa," Jay said. Everyone inside the room froze, regarding the newcomers with expressions akin to kids caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar. Ten was holding a bucket; Jay and Mar were armed with water-filled balloons. A water bazooka was lying in one corner. Nadya was sitting in another corner, an umbrella spread over herself and her book. She looked up.

"Hey, guys."

Teresa took in the scene and started massaging her temples with her left hand. Cassidy sensed a serious headache ahead. "What," she asked, her voice strained, "Is this supposed to be?"

"Well, it started out as a picnic, if I remember correctly," Nadya reported from her safe seat. "Thus the blanket, the food and the plastic cups. I think you should be glad you didn't get one of those cupcakes into your faces. Stick like hell."

"A food fight?" Cassidy asked, disbelief coloring his voice. It shook as he spoke, betraying his mirth. Teresa shot him a dirty look that warmed him all over and that rather clearly said Traitor. Oh, he loved it when she got all worked up. "And why the water bombs?"

"We needed to clean the room anyway," Ten explained. Marina behind her blushed wildly and nodded, while Jay shrugged and almost slipped in a puddle. "Might as well make the best of it."

"Who had the idea?"

"He." "Her." Jay and Ten spoke simultaneously, each one pointing at the other.

"Of course." Teresa closed her eyes and turned around, her hand still holding her aching head. "Well, clean up before Teacher comes. I'm taking a long, hot shower." As she walked away, Cassidy saw her shoulders shaking. Some kind of laughter, he gathered, even if it was desperate. Even if she was deeply annoyed. Water dripped from her hair and marked her path down the corridor.

"Better do what she says," he advised them, smirking at their long faces. "If she comes back tomorrow and slips on cupcake, she will have your heads before Teacher can say Thanks Dark." Ten regarded him mischievously. "Will you help us?"

"Definitely not."

She moved, quicker than lightning. Cassidy ducked the object and a piece of cupcake smashed against the corridor wall opposite of the training hall.

"Damn." Ten didn't sound sorry.

"Cassidy, are you alright?" Marina did, though. "You are dripping wet, and it's cold outside. You should…" She slipped on some icing. Ten and Jay caught each one of her arms as she stumbled to regain her footing.

"Worry about yourself, Mar," Ten teased her. "Cassidy is a big boy."

Shaking his head in amusement, Cassidy turned around and followed Teresa's footprints.

"I'll grab a shower, too."

He was pretty sure he heard a comment from either Ten or Jay or both of them, but he chose not to understand it.

"Clean up quickly," he called back over his shoulder. "Teacher paged. He'll be there around seven a.m." And smirked as a collective groan came from the training hall.

…

Sighting, Teresa slipped out of her shoes and dropped her jacket onto the coat rack in the corridor. The heavy entrance door fell shut with a deep thump as she walked into the kitchen and pulled her hair from the tie it had been held in. It wasn't that she disliked the extra lessons, she reflected. They, actually, were quite interesting. But they were exhausting, too, all concentration and focus and stay calm under pressure. She always was happy to come back, to finally have mastered yet another lecture.

In the kitchen she held a glass under the tap and drank. Cassidy hated her doing it but she was so used to drinking right from the tap – European custom, she figured. And she was not yet ready to abandon that much of her habits, not when she felt like she was turning into a real American slowly but surely. Cass could talk of his Irish ancestors as much as he wanted, fact was that they had immigrated into the U.S. during the terrible famine of 1845. More than a hundred years in the States qualified for being fully American in her eyes. Whereas she could remember not living here. This was different. Her neck gave an uncomfortable twinge when she turned. Frowning, she stopped to consider. Bed. Hot shower and bed. Training, hot shower and bed?

Yeah.

On her way towards the training hall, she shed all the clothes that weren't necessary for training. Her sweater was discarded in the living room, her socks and jeans remained in the bathroom. Only wearing a top and a pair of short training pants, not bothering to do her hair up again, Teresa opened the doors to the training hall.

The matting they only used when Mar was present – for games, usually – was set out in the middle of the hall. On the blue synthetics, two people were rolling around, grappling with each other. Teresa caught a flash of a white T-shirt and red hair and blonde locks and a tight-fitting sports top and froze. Cassidy didn't notice her. He was busy explaining the blonde girl on the floor next to – or rather, underneath – him the basics of close-range, full-body-contact fighting in self-defense. While in full body-contact. Teresa suddenly felt nauseous as she watched them roll over and over, limbs twisting into each other, bare skin touching bare skin. The blonde girl giggled – Cassidy laughed, a deep, carefree sound – and pinned her down. The girl complained breathlessly but didn't make a move to roll out from under him. Had Teresa been in her position, she would have flattened Cassidy against the next wall. Instead, she watched as Cass dipped his head down to the girl's neck and she threaded her fingers through his hair, laughing throatily.

"You should kick him in the balls," Teresa said.

Both looked up at her, the girl with surprised brown eyes, Cassidy with hooded grey ones. "Hey, Rese."

Ignoring him pointedly, she looked at the blonde. "If you wanted to learn self-defense – which I am almost certain wasn't your actual intention, but let's go with it – you would kick him in the balls with your knee. Stab him in the eye with two fingers at the same time, and when he's groveling on the ground in pain either punch his guts for good measure or stomp on his foot with a sharp heel. Then run and don't look back."

"Um," the girl said.

"Don't listen to her," Cassidy said and lowered his head again. "Then she'll leave."

Fuming, Teresa turned on her heels and stormed up the stairs to the second floor, on which her room was located.

"Who the hell was she?" She heard the blonde ask.

"Sister," Cassidy replied.

She slammed the bathroom door with just a little bit more force than necessary.

…

"Just be careful," Cassidy told Ten.

"Remember the plans we looked at? You have to know them by heart. The basement will be dark – no problem there – but it will be rigged to blow at the slightest movement. Here," – he pointed onto the blueprints – "Here, and here are traps set into the wall, we couldn't find out what they are like. The hidden door is booby-trapped, too. Use the code Nadya gave you. Once you're inside, find the evidence we need and get the hell out of there."

"We'll be fine, Dad," Ten answered for Jay and herself and rolled her eyes. Cassidy exchanged glances with Teresa. Neither of them liked this – sending the youngest hunters into a house known to be inhabited by oath-breakers – but it was their only chance.

"Remember to check in every fifteen minutes," Teresa added, anxiety restricting her breathing. "If you don't, we'll immediately come in. Same goes if you run into trouble. Got that?"

"Yes, Mum," Jay said and grimaced. "You're making a fuss. This will be easy. They're not even home."

Furious, Teresa opened her mouth, unsure whether she was angry because he had called her Mum or because Ten had called Cassidy Dad before. Cassidy's warm, heavy hand brushed her arm and prevented her from saying anything.

"It's fine. Just be careful."

Both of them grabbed earphones, daggers and a few extra weapons from the hidden shelves of the training hall.

"I don't think this is funny," Teresa said through clamped teeth as Ten and Jay left the room. Cassidy shrugged, frowning, as he watched the door fall closed behind them. Then he turned to Teresa and grinned.

"You do behave like a mother hen sometimes."

Teresa wished for very, very sharp objects and contented herself by glaring at him.

…

"Wow, Rese."

They were both on the ground, their chests rising and falling in rapid succession. The ceiling of the training hall was already dark, darkness outside had fallen. Teresa laughed in between heavy breaths.

"That was incredible."

Cassidy propped himself up onto his elbows to look at her, his chest rising and falling in the rapid successions of his labored breaths. His eyes behind his glasses were blue today, blue like aquamarine.

"Where did you get those moves from? I've never seen them before. It looked like a combination of some things I thought I recognized, but I'm not sure."

"New European karate style. Fascinatingly simple, made for straightforward sport competitions and serious self-defense. They," She had to take a deep breath, "Teach different attack and defense techniques, both blows and kicks, and then combine them. When you get a hang of their general idea, it is simple."

Still on his elbows, his face hovering somewhere above her, he threw his head back and laughed. "Well, that was one hell of a kick. You nearly cracked my ribs."

Teresa laughed breathlessly. "Well, your counter wasn't bad, either."

"Will you teach me?" He asked, the lopsided grin still on his face. Teresa nodded and started to sit up. "Okay, so there are twelve different…"

And stopped. Cassidy's face was right in front of her, and his grey and blue eyes were regarding her with an expression that held interest, yes, but not exclusively. Blood thundered through her ears, the rushing so loud she felt like she was drowning. At the same time, something else flashed through her, made her heart slam against her ribs almost painfully, and every coherent thought was gone.

"Rese…" Cassidy's fingers ghosted over her face, traced her features almost without touching her. "You are amazing."

She kissed him. Her brain went on autopilot and she leaned forward, found his lips, found his hands, couldn't think anymore. There was only the taste of salt on his lips and the heat of his skin and the way he reacted, the way his lips moved against hers and his tongue pushed against her lips and his hands wove into her hair and held her head and pulled her even closer. They toppled over, Cass going down underneath her, and suddenly the heat was everywhere. Teresa unfolded herself onto him, trying to inch closer, always closer, because even the thin barrier of clothing – even the barrier of skin between them – was far too much. His hands ghosted down her sides, burned hot trails down her spine as he held her. Like he was trying to push her into himself, trying to absorb her. It was a mirror of the sensation that was cursing through her. Closer. And still not enough. But for a fleeting single moment she felt like he was inside her, entirely, body and mind, and all she ever wanted to do was to kiss him like that, to feel him like that, and to never stop.

The front door slammed and Jay's and Nadya's voices resounded and Teresa scrambled away from him, terrified at what she had done. Cassidy, on his elbows, looked at her with hooded eyes, bewildered, baffled, confused and disheveled, and licked his lips. Staring at the single droplet of blood – Angel, had she bitten him? – she frantically tried to regain her composure. The way he was looking at her – the way her eyes seemed to trail down to his lips again and again – was not helping. Neither was his husky voice.

"Rese-"

Torn between emotions she couldn't handle she stared from him to the door of the room and back to him. His eyes were pleading.

Teresa darted out of the training hall and locked herself in her room.

…

The corridor was dark.

Ten, Marina and the others had already gone to bed, and Terrance and Jaq were out on patrolling duty. Cassidy, coming from the shower and passing the slightly cracked doors of the training hall, would have passed them without noticing anything if not his intuition had given a slight twinge. He stopped, rubbing the wet towel through his also-wet hair, and peeked into the room. It was dark, as well. No sound came from the inside of the high and vast room.

Hunter eyes adjusted ten times as fast to different lighting as human eyes and managed to work even with close to no light. It was what made them so dangerous: their ability to move through the shadows, as if they were a part of darkness and night itself. In the little light that filtered through the windows, he made out a dark figure sitting in the window that went into the gardens. Teresa almost seemed like a shadow herself as she sat there, her arms wrapped around her torso, her forehead leaning against the cold glass of the window. She looked small there, not like the teenager she was but like a child, her knees drawn up and folded beneath her, her hair falling over her shoulders in soft waves. Cassidy was momentarily stuck by how beautiful she looked, even while her shoulders were slightly trembling under the onslaught of tears held in by sheer force of will. For a second, he fought whether to go in or to slip away unnoticed. But while he wanted to go in badly, he also knew she would hate him for witnessing her weakness.

He found he wasn't ready to accept that.

Cassidy turned around silently and left.

…

If there is a place she loves most in this world she would choose this place.

Teresa knows it is unreasonable to do so. And yet she is back in the training hall again, in her favorite seat at the window. It is open. Cold autumn air brushes through the hall, makes her skin crawl. If her face wasn't so heated she'd freeze.

Stupid. Stupid. Idiotic.

And still she cannot forget. Forget the way Cassidy's body was hot and pliant against hers, how his arms held her like he wasn't afraid to break her, just wanted her to be there. Forget the way his lips felt on hers, his hair felt underneath her fingers. How he looked at her – dark eyes and lopsided grin and everything plain on his face, right there for her to see. It must have been there for a long time already, but she'd been too stupid to see it. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she put her head on her knees and exhaled softly. So incredibly stupid. It could have been easy, all of this. The way her breath hitched, her blood sped faster – it could have been so very simple. If she had only known before.

She wasn't sure anymore when it had started.

Whatever had happened that made her look at Cassidy not with the eyes of a partner and Clave sibling but from a woman's perspective. Whenever she had started to think he looked handsome, that his eyes were incredibly expressive. Whenever she had started to wonder how it would feel if he touched her, not in training and not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. Whenever she had started to dream of him looking at her like that, like the way he had looked at her in the training hall.

Like he wanted her.

Something bubbled up in her chest, made its way up her throat and out of her mouth. Teresa laughed, felt the laughter bubble out of her at the same time the tears spilt over. Cassidy had wanted her. She had been hopelessly in love with him for the past seven years and had already given up the hope he'd ever look at her – and now he had done it.

It didn't mean anything, she tried to remind herself. They'd fought and perhaps he'd been aroused or whatever had prompted him to kiss her back like that had made him do so and he already regretted it. It didn't mean he loved her, only that he had wanted her for a sliver of a second. It didn't mean her dreams would come true. It didn't mean anything, especially since they were Clave siblings and all.

But his face had shown a fraction of the longing she knew so well.

Stupid, stupid. Seven years. Still laughing through tears, she leaned her face against the cold glass window and watched the cloudless autumn sky. It would be damn cold tomorrow, but the stars were beautiful.

Teresa felt beautiful, too.

If there is someone she loves more than anything, she would choose Cassidy. Or rather, he would be chosen. She doesn't think she is in the position to choose anymore. The choice has been made for her long ago.

…

The house greets him with the same silent welcome as always.

Cassidy slips in through the heavy wooden front doors, disabling the alarm with quick fingers. The light of the lamp in the corner of the corridor is on, a familiar orange glow in an otherwise dark corridor. It is early morning, half past six. Past curfew. The others probably are in bed already; or not even at home at all. They barely see each other nowadays, with Marina working for the Security department, Jaq and Jay out hunting on their own, with Ten and Nadya travelling the world and Terrance already leading his own Clave. But every time either one of them is in town, they come here.

The kitchen smells faintly like grilled cheese and toast. The table is clean, the lights off. There are shoes in the corridor and jackets on the coat racks. It is a house like anyone else: Lived in, missed by, loved for. A home. And so much more than that.

Nothing has changed in his room. His clothes are folded neatly on the chair where he left them. A few books and papers are carefully arranged on his desk. His bed is made meticulously – everything familiar and well-known. The soft scent hanging in the air is familiar, as well, and it makes his heart speed up. He drops his bag without turning on the light and exits it again.

The door to the training hall is closed. He cracks it open carefully.

Teresa is spread out on the ground. In the middle of the room. Her arms are spread wide, her hair open and all over her face and around her head. Her chest is heaving slightly. Cassidy sees a droplet of sweat roll down her forehead. Everything happens in slow motion, he gets a short glance at her before she reacts to the soft sound of the door opening by catapulting herself to her feet gracefully. Cassidy swallows around the lump in his throat.

"Hey."

Her lips form his name, he can see them clearly even in the dim light of the dawning summer morning. Her eyes widen in surprise and her lips form an "oh" and she is looking at him with a pair of eyes brown as chocolate and deep as oceans. He doesn't see her thin top or her short pants or the way her hair flips back when she jumps up. Cassidy only sees her face on which alertness yields to surprise and surprise to…

"Cassidy."

She says his name questioningly. He doesn't answer, just looks at her. And stands unmoving as she slowly starts walking towards him, her hands outstretched like a blind searching for something to hold on. Her hands touch his hands, scoot over his bare arms, reach for his face. Warm finger tips test him for old and new scars, move down to his shoulders. The second his arms lift, she wraps hers around his neck and her familiar scent envelops him completely.

"Oh God, I missed you."

Teresa whispers the words so silently he almost doesn't hear them because he is too preoccupied with drawing her nearer. Crushing her into himself. She fits him perfectly, like she always did, her slender curves fitting his everywhere. He buries his face in her hair, inhales the sweetness.

"Too long," he tells her and feels her tremble in a shaky laugh.

"Definitely."

"I'm home."

There is something to be said for a world in black and white.