Louie leaned forward, carefully unwrapping the bandages encasing the Doctor's head, every inch of her resisting the action.

"How's training going?" the doctor asked.

Louie's whole body was holding onto a deep ache that followed everywhere she went, but her face revealed none of it.

"Fine," Louie replied.

She gingerly traced over the spot where the doctor had received the blow to his head. The doctor winced slightly as Louie's fingers hit a tender spot. Pulling her hand away, she picked up his chart and started making notes.

"Peyton is kind of an intense person, but you're not going to find a better trainer," John said.

Louie gave a vague uh huh as she kept writing.

"Did you know that he wasn't the only person I have worked with?"

Louie looked up, surprised by this.

"Really?" Louie asked, settling the clipboard on her lap.

"Yes, I have actually worked with about five different people, trying to track down and study the Crawlers. Peyton is the only one that has helped me the most. He's a whole different kind of brave."

"How so?"

Louie went back to checking John's vitals, her attention jumping from listening to him and making notes on his chart.

"His natural instinct isn't his own self preservation but that of anyone around him who can't defend themselves. I've seen him do a lot of amazing things, but some of the craziest things I saw were what he did for others."

Louie had no response to this and so remained silent, her gaze dropping to the clipboard.

"How's your head?" Louie asked.

The doctor gently prodded his own head.

"Better."

"Headaches? Dizziness? Lightheadedness? Nausea?"

He started to shake his head, but stopped.

"Slight headaches."

Louie nodded and stood her body protesting the movement, her muscles aching. Retrieving a cup and medicine, she brought it back to the doctor.

"These will help. It will also take down the inflammation."

The doctor took them with a smile and a brief thank you. Louie turned away from the doctor's bed. Her body hurt with the simple action. Peyton stepped into the Med Wing, his eyes landing on her. Louie wordlessly switched out the doctor's chart for Peyton's as he strode over to her. She nodded to an empty bed.

"Sit, please," Louie said.

Peyton did as he was told and Louie brought her hand up to his head. She felt over the spot he had had a bump two weeks ago.

"How is your head doing?" Louie asked. "Sometimes headaches can come back after any kind of exertion."

"Its fine."

Louie nodded and made a note of it.

"Shirt."

Peyton stood and took off his pack, as well as his shirt. Louie laid aside the clip board and removed the bandage that encased his ribs, her arms aching.

"How's your body doing?" Peyton asked.

Startled, Louie took a step back. She eyed him, the bandage clutched in her hand, body rigid.

"Excuse me?"

Peyton gave a small smile.

"Let me rephrase that," Peyton said. "How are your muscles doing? You've had five days of intense training. People unaccustomed to that kind of movement tend to be in pain for awhile until their bodies become familiar with it."

Louie relaxed her shoulder and she dropped Peyton's gaze.

"I'm fine," Louie said.

Peyton nodded, but the smile still sat there, unbelieving. The bruises on Peyton's side had faded more. Louie gently prodded the section, watching for any reaction but receiving none. She straightened, and grabbed his chart.

"How do you feel? You've been doing more physical movement, any pain?"

"No, they feel fine."

Louie nodded and scribbled something down.

"Alright, then I am going to leave your bandage off. But if anything changes let me know right away."

Peyton nodded. Louie's eyes then shifted from his face to his body, taking in his arms, chest and abdomen.

"Your muscle tone is back, that's good," Louie said.

Her eyes took in the scars that covered him, and heard the doctor's voice in her head, saying how Peyton was a different kind of brave. For the first time she was curious about the stories behind the scars. Peyton shifted and Louie took a self conscious step back.

"You can put on your shirt." Peyton did so. "You no longer have to come in for daily check ups. But if anything at all changes and you start having headaches again or pain in your ribs, come back. Understood?"

"Understood."

Louie left him, moving to the far side of the Med Wing and putting his chart away. When she turned back, Peyton was still there, looking at her.

"Was there something else?" Louie asked.

"Is it possible to get a collection of knives for today's training?"

"Yes, come with me."

Louie lead the way out of the Med Wing, Peyton beside her. The normal business surrounded them as they made their way to Security. Heads followed their path, eyes darting from Louie to Peyton. Marc was talking to a team of Searchers when they arrived. Louie waited, her hands falling behind her and clasping together. Marc nodded as Louie stepped forward.

"Marc, how many knives do we have and how many can you spare this afternoon?"

"We have fifty-six and I can spare thirty. Will that be enough, ma'am?"

Louie looked to Peyton and he nodded in agreement.

"Alright, thank you. Peyton was there anything else you needed?" Louie asked.

"How many weapons do you currently have and what types? And how much ammunition?"

Marc looked to Louie and she gave a single nod.

"We are currently in possession of sixty rifles and forty-five hand guns, with enough ammunition to keep us safe for the next fifteen years." Marc said.

Peyton raised his eyebrows surprised.

"Really?"

Marc didn't reply.

"Like I told you," Louie said. "We were once a warehouse. We have seen very little action and so have never needed to use the weapons all that much."

Peyton nodded.

"That's all I needed to know. I'll stop by before training to pick up the knives," Peyton said.

Then with another nod, he turned and left them. Louie watched him go for a second before turning back to Marc.

"Is there anything you need ma'am?"

Louie shook her head, but didn't move, a question holding her at bay.

"How is training proceeding?" Marc asked.

"Fine. Peyton knows what he's doing and its clear this will help us be better prepared."

There was a long pause in which Louie wrestled with the thought that had taken over her mind but was fighting with her lips. Marc watched Louie silently, waiting for her thoughts to settle.

"Marc." Louie looked into the face that she had known since she was little. "Do you think the Council will ever change their minds about the Scouting party?"

Marc seemed to take his time forming his response, as if his words were delicate and he had to handle them carefully.

"I believe that they have lived in the security of the barrier for so long that leaving seems like unnecessary risk and foolish. They are comfortable in the protection of their walls and its what they know."

"That's not an answer."

"I can not say for sure, but I don't think they will. Not when they are secure that there is no real danger for us here."

"I was afraid of that. They don't see that we risk more by not knowing than knowing."

"And that is something I don't feel you can change their minds on."

"Thank you Marc."

"Anytime ma'am."

********************

As Louie walked into the barn, her eyes found Peyton. His focus was settled on the long curved knife in his hand. Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor boards, alerting to him to her presence. He looked up, slipping the knife into its holster.

"Have everything you need?" Louie asked, dropping her Med bag on to the floor.

"Yes. I appreciate you bringing that," Peyton said, nodding to the bag. "People unfamiliar with handling knives sometimes find themselves overconfident and that leads to injury."

"I understand."

They fell silent as the rest of the members joined them. Their voices expanded and filled the space. Ryland was smirking, his arms crossed over his chest as he walked over to Louie and Peyton.

"Hey Lou, I'm impressed you're still here," Ryland said.

Louie bristled, but her face remained neutral. Ryland's gaze dropped to the stack of knives at Peyton's feet and his smiled widened.

"Looks like we will actually be learning something useful today," Ryland said.

Peyton's face remained the same as he shrugged.

"We'll see," he said, looking directly at Ryland. "Some people are slow learners and I haven't wanted to move to fast for them."

Peyton walked off before Ryland could reply and Louie held back a smirk. At the front of the barn, Peyton spun and faced the group.

"Now that everyone's here we can begin. Its three miles today," Peyton said, "Let's go."

Everyone fell into their usual positions, following Peyton outside. Louie tossed aside her jacket and brought up the rear. Her body settled into the fast paced rhythm of running. The muscles in her legs relaxed with familiar movement. The ache that had settled into her body became numb as she pushed herself further. The sky was a dark gray, the menacing clouds rolling and tumbling over each other, the scent of rain heavy in the air.

Small water droplets started pelting the group as they were on their last mile. By the time they finished and were back in the confines of the barn, the downpour had soaked all of them.

Louie moved to her crate and settled onto it, as members grabbed water and others removed their shirts, ringing out the material before pulling them back on. Peyton stood at the front of the barn and called everyone to attention. As a semi circle formed, Peyton looked to each member, waiting. Behind him the world was deluged with water. Peyton pulled the knife from his holster and held it up.

"Today we are going to start working with knives," he said. "Now I know that when it comes to defense, guns are thought as more useful. They give you the options of fighting from a safe distance. But the downfall of a gun is that its use is limited to the amount of amo you have and your aim. So knives are your greatest defense."

As Peyton talked he twisted and flipped the knife without looking, his hand moving on its own.

"Your knife needs to become an extension of your arm. Its needs to feel as natural in your hand as if you were born with it. So today I will teach you how to handle and move with your knife. I also want to warn you, over cockiness and carelessness are the exact way that you hurt yourself. Now with that said lets get started."

Peyton moved through the crowd to where the knives were located.

"Come get a knife and we'll go from there."

Knives sitting heavily in hands, everyone reformed a semi circle around Peyton, watching as he demonstrated how to hold the knife. He then showed the basic movements used when fighting, putting them into a routine he repeated twice.

"Now, split up and get a feel for the knife. How it feels to move around with it. I'll come around and give pointers," Peyton said.

The group broke apart and Louie slipped into her small secluded room. Her fingers gripped the knife's handle, the weight familiar to her. She flipped it once, catching it by the tip of the blade. She flipped it again then started moving about, cutting through the air, feeling how the knife shifted and moved with her. She transitioned through the routine, ignoring the ache in her muscles and the weight of the knife that felt heavier as she kept going.

Louie was half through the routine for her second time when she heard Peyton's footsteps. Turning, she found him leaning against the frame, watching her.

"Your fingers aren't in the right position," Peyton said.

Louie had the urge to argue with him, explaining she had been holding a knife since she was twelve, but held her tongue.

"Lift up your hand," Peyton commanded.

Louie did and Peyton stepped forward.

"This is an alright way to hold it but you're not going to have the right amount of grip you need. Watch."

Peyton took a step back and then hit the hand holding the knife. Before Louie had a chance to do anything the knife slipped to the edge of her fingers. Peyton moved closer and snatched the knife before it fell. He took her hand and placed the knife in it. He spread her fingers out into the right position. He then closed his hand around her's, looking at her.

"This is secure," he said. "This way your hand will be ready even if you are knocked about. Understand?"

Louie nodded, ignoring the warmth of his hand enclosing her's. She pulled her hand away and Peyton loosened his grip, taking a step back.

"Hold it up again." Peyton said.

This time when Peyton hit her hand, the knife stayed locked in her fist.

"Good. Now start all over again."

He watched as she shifted through each step in the routine, his eyes narrowed, studying every angle. He stopped her twice, making corrections and comments before allowing her to keep going. When she finished, he nodded.

"Good, keep going."

He left, his footsteps fading away to another section.

**********************

Night had darkened the world outside the barn. In the distance the lights of the Compound could barely be seen through the sheets of rain. Louie listened as the last member's sloshing footsteps were drowned out by the never ending flood of water. The barn was still as Louie emerged from her space. She sank onto the floor boards, her body heavy with fatigue. But beyond the ache was a growing strength.

The knife was still clutched in her hand and she flipped it once, then again, tightening her fingers around the handle. She took a deep breath and stood, standing still for a second as her legs steadied themselves. The rain muffled the world, the sounds from the Compound silent. Louie flipped the knife again, catching the blade for a brief second before she hurdle it at the wall. It landed in between two planks of wood with a solid thunk.

"Thinking of anyone specific?"

Louie went rigid as Peyton walked over to her and then past her, going to the knife. He pulled it from the wall with an effortless tug.

"You know you shouldn't tense your body when you're startled. Instead bend your knees. Rigidity is a sure way to get killed," Peyton said.

"I'll keep that in mind." Louie said, taking the knife from Peyton's hand. "I thought everyone was gone."

"They are. I just noticed you stay late in the barn. I was curious what you did. Now I know."

Louie didn't respond, instead she moved over to her Med bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"Who taught you how to throw a knife?" Peyton asked.

Louie stood silent for a long moment, looking at Peyton. He stared back, his expression open, his stance relaxed.

"Chief and Marc."

Peyton raised a single eyebrow prompting her for more information.

"They started teaching me when I was twelve. They both knew the importance of knowing how to defend oneself."

Peyton nodded and took a step closer, pulling the curve knife from his belt. He looked at it for a long minute, before looking at Louie.

"This was my grandfather's," he said. "My father gave it to me when I was six. That's when he started teaching me that defending yourself means more than knowing what to do, but who to protect."

"And your father..."

"He was one of the leaders that lead a larger group to safety when our compound was attacked. I have no idea if they ever made it but I plan to find out."

"Your mother?"

"She went with my father."

Louie nodded. A long pause settled between them. Louie straightened, sliding her knife into its holster and clasping her hands behind her.

"We should head back," Louie said.

Peyton took in her rigid posture and nodded.

"Of course."

They turned and walked into the rain.

**************

Vote. Comment. Follow.