Wings to Fly, Eyes that Burn

"It's like a dance. Y' not goin' wit de flow of de movements." Remy said as he held his hand out to Marshall, who was currently taking a timeout sprawled out on the matt. They were in the gym and had been practicing for over an hour. Remy had decided Marshall's fighting style wasn't suited to his compact body and smaller size and was taking it as his duty to show him a better method. "Y' have de power but not de focus." He said patiently.

Marshall snorted tiredly. "What the fuck is this? Little grasshopper?" He groaned softly. "Shit I think you broke my back on that last flip."

"When y' stop fightin' like an arrogant street hoodlum den y' stop gettin' y' ass kicked. An' yes, dis is jus' like little grasshopper." Remy quirked a wiry smile, "Tomorrow we gettin' up at de ass crack of dawn t' go meditate by de ocean an' do stork position fer an hour."

Marshall laughed. "You'd probably make me if you could! You like seeing me in pain." He groaned again as he rolled over onto his side and sat up slowly. "Yeah I'm done for today, but I'm not acceptin' defeat! Marshall doesn't ever give up!" He took Remy's outstretched hand finally and was pulled to his feet. "Just gimmy a day or two before we do this again."

"Little grasshopper..." Remy mumbled with amusement. "Lil Marshall." He slid an arm around his boy's waist. "Le's hit de showers, Lil' M."


They practiced for weeks. Marshall wasn't a particularly fast learner but he was determined and always got up to try again. He was relentless, much like Remy himself. It only seemed to be another way in which the two were similar.

Marshall enjoyed the education without a doubt, but he did wonder about Remy's intentions behind it. When he questioned him about it all Remy would say was;

"Y' need t' be ready for anyt'ing boy, weather dat be some dickwad tryin' t' get a piece o' y' in da shower or somet'ing else. Y' need t' be able t' t'ink fast in fucked up situations. I'm jus' tryin' t' make sure y' be prepared for anyt'ing."

The physical side of his education was the part he liked best. It was much more enjoyable and easy to see progress in. If Remy showed him a new move then all it took was some alone time in the gym to be able to eventually achieve it. He liked the way Remy's eyes would sometimes glint at a move he'd pull. Remy would smile and say; "I c'n see y've been practicing." He worked hard to see that smile of approval. He'd never admit it to anyone, but it meant a lot to him.

It was the mental side of his education however that he wasn't so sure about. He'd never considered himself good at all that introspective shit in the first place. Remy was though, he'd start talking about "Thief Philosophy" at the most random times. They were sitting side by side in the courtyard watching some of the guys play basketball when Remy out of the blue said:

"Y' got t' know yer enemy M." He'd dropped the "lil" part a couple days later, saying it sounded too cute. "Y' have t' learn t' t'ink like a t'ief. I'm teachin' y' t'ings backwards. I jus' want y' t' be prepared fer de worst." Marshall turned to look at him but found that Remy's eyes were still fixed intently on the game. "A good t'ief uses his perception an' knowledge first; fightin' is his last option, always." He put enough emphasis on the word 'always' that Marshall briefly wondered if there was a story behind it. Remy continued before he thought to ask. "Y' should be able t' slip into any room, read all da people der an' figure who hates who an' who's got weaknesses an' how y' can use dose weaknesses t' yer advantage. An' y' know how y' learn dat? Y're quiet, an' y' listen. It don't take an' empath M, anyone c'n do it."

Marshall was good at being quiet and listening. It was something he had to learn at an early age having lived with his mother and her string of random boyfriends. It was something he had almost perfected at school. The things Remy talked about were things he had always done just never consciously thought about or used with any kind of purpose.

"When I was a kid, my mom was pretty crazy and unpredictable. She did a lot of drugs and shit and could go off the deep end at the drop of a hat."

Remy nodded. "Dat makes y' sensitive t' od'er people's feelins."

Marshall nodded too. "Yeah cause if you got in her way if she was in one've her moods ya got smacked."

"Or worse."

"Yeah."

"It's a lot like dat, it's about survival. In da joint dat's like de first lesson y' learn. If y' don' learn how t' read people an' gauge situations den y' get yer ass reamed, or worse someone cuts yer throat fer kicks. Y' gotta be aware o' yer surroundings at all times. Nobody is goin' t' give y' de encyclopedia o' de facts. Y' gotta read it off der faces an' der body language. Y' make yer own encyclopedia. Y' got me homme? I know y' do dis shit. We all do. I jus' want y' to notice y'self doin' it, an' make a conscious effort t' make it work for y'."

Marshall nodded but he wasn't sure if he fully understood.


AN: okay so that wasn't very smushy either, i promise some eventual smush, really. i also just wanted to say a quick thank you to all the other ppl who have given me feedback for this story so far; Erik,"hey" :), poldebs, and Rosch. yay slim slash directory! i love the girl who made that. :)