My expectations had been low when I'd gone to see Joe that night – thinking that he'd do the bare minimum and slot me into a tutorial or two, but I'd been pleasantly surprised.

Once seated in his office, he went through an overview of the entire curriculum that the Division required new recruits to complete before they were put through training. This included being fluent in at least three languages, an intensive knowledge of covert operations and the history of S.I.C.O, as well as weekly physical and mental one-on-one examinations with an advisor. It was a lot, and when my eyes had widened, he had reassured me that nobody expected me to jump right in.

But that was part of the problem – I didn't think anybody would believe that I could do this.

He worked with me for over an hour to draw together a schedule that I would be able to follow for the next couple of weeks. I'd be focusing on learning how Division 27 functioned in the recent years as well as joining the beginner's French class, but what got me the most excited was when Joe had told me he'd talked to Catherine about stepping on as my advisor. It had sounded strange at first, as well as intimidating – having the head of the Division monitoring my progress, but it also meant that I'd be getting trained by one of the best, so I didn't question it much.

That night I'd gone to bed the most content I'd been since I'd arrived, and when the sun rose the next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready for the day.

I was eating breakfast in the Grand Hall when Joe caught up with me and dropped a thick binder in front of me. It was full to the brim of papers, and when I'd flipped it open with curiosity, he'd explained that it was the previous year's records of everything that had gone on behind these walls. The names of new agents, studies on the lab experiments that had been conducted, in-depths reports of closed cases – it was all in there, as well as much more, and it was my job to read through it all and get caught up.

The task was daunting, but after he wished me luck and I finished off my food, I headed back up to my room to get started. The binder was organized chaos; with multiple handwritten pages that were hard to make out, and by the time I left to head down to my French class, I'd barely made my way through the first twenty pages.

By the time the sun had set in the darkening sky, my brain was pounding with the amount of new information it had absorbed. I made notes on how new recruits were normally brought in (either scouted or due to familial ties), but had mainly kept my focus on nitpicking a few of the cases that had been worked on the previous year.

Three murders in the northwest where the guilty party had been a retired government officer, an attack on the first lady and her daughter, and a cross-ocean investigation where a large pharmaceutical company had orchestrated a warehouse that tested unapproved enhancement drugs on animals – and those cases took up only a sliver of the pages I'd been tasked to look at.

As I closed the binder in my lap, I rested my head back against the wall behind me. Sitting in one of the window seats constructed into the hallway outside of the expansive library that this building housed, I let my gaze wander to the courtyard outside. At this time of night, there were hardly many people still up and wandering the halls, unless they were getting ready for a night assignment.

In fact, I was sure it'd been at least a half an hour since someone had walked passed me.

Gazing out into the night, I spotted the light that was spilling out onto the courtyard from the training barn instantly vanish as a pair of agents closed the doors, presumably the last ones down there, and headed inside.

While the rest of the building seemed to be resting, my body and my brain were wide awake. I was antsy, and pairing that with my wandering mind, it made a dangerous combination.

It was clear, just by talking to Joe, Kira, and Finn, and reading through the case files, that while a lot of the work that agents did was mental, an equal amount of effort was physical. I had a strong mind, but my physical abilities were limited. I'd taken a few self-defence classes in recent years, but judging by the way the members of the Gemini Clan had easily fought off my attempts at escaping, it was clear that I still had a lot to learn.

And I couldn't learn anything if I wasn't given the chance.

Double-checking to make sure that the training barn's lights were still off and that weren't any agents hanging around outside, I stood up and headed back up to my room to drop off my binder before circling back and making my way outside. With each step, I felt the need to glance around at my surroundings as an uneasiness washed over me, knowing that somebody might see me and wonder I was doing. When I pulled hard on the sliding door of the training barn, I opened it just enough for me to slip inside.

"Who's there?"

My shoulders stiffened along with every other muscle in my body as I heard the voice call out in the dark. It was nearly pitch black, and with no visibility of my surroundings, I began to think the worst.

When I didn't reply however, I heard footsteps echoing a long distance away from me, and seconds later, the area was flooded with overhead light.

"Aspen?"

Blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness, my eyes finally settled on Beckett's surprised features moments later.

"Beckett?" I questioned in return, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

His expression fell flat as he raised his wrapped hands, as if they were enough of an answer. "Practicing."

"In the dark?"

He shrugged, walking back over to the punching bag he'd been using. "Sometimes it's better to practice throwing punches without the light," he explained. "You never know what kind of obstacles you'll face in the field, and if you're infiltrating a hideaway space, most of the time they're underground and dark. It's better to be prepared."

In a weird way, his words made perfect sense. If you could learn to fight without using your sight – only your instincts and your other senses, then you could be a highly valuable asset.

"What about you though?" he asked. "Why are you here so late? Not trying to run away again, I hope."

The tail end of his questioning sounded the smallest bit sarcastic, but I brushed it off as I shook my head slowly. "No," I breathed out before biting my lip, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him the truth. After a quick thought, it wasn't a lie that slipped passed my lips. "I was hoping to practice a few things while nobody else was in here."

Beckett's eyebrows scrunched together as his eyes stayed locked on me. "What do you mean? Did you just want to exercise without anyone around, or ...?" Although he trailed off, I knew the unspoken choice was 'or were you trying to learn how to fight without any help?'. When I crossed my arms instead of replying, his gaze sharpened with judgement and I felt as though I was shrinking in fear. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. "Jesus Aspen, you came in here to practice fighting? Do you know how dangerous that is when you've never been taught?"

"I have been taught," I fought back, though my voice wasn't all that strong.

It was loud enough for Beckett to hear however, as a disbelief crossed his features. "Right," he drawled, "by who?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I stated pointedly, "but I've taken self-defence classes before. I just wanted to see if I still remembered any of the moves."

He was quiet for a moment. "Okay," he said, "let's see what you've got then."

My eyes widened as he stepped up onto the matted floor in the center of the barn and waved me towards him. "What, now?" I stuttered.

"Yes, now," he countered, pausing for a moment as he raised an eyebrow. "Why, is that a problem?"

His gaze was challenging, and while my first instinct was to cower away and head back up to my room for the night, I stood my ground. "No," I replied, letting out a slow, yet determined breath. Moving towards him, I tried to appear calm and confident, masking the other emotions that flooded through my mind as I came to a stop with only a few feet separating us.

"Okay," Beckett instructed, positioning himself into a defensive stance by staggering his feet and turning his body, "I want you to try your best to land a hit on me."

Putting one foot in front of the other, I shifted my weight onto my back leg. "Are you sure?" I asked, a teasing tone attached to my words as I struggled to remember the exact punches I'd been taught through self-defence. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

I noticed his lips pull upwards in a smirk. "Don't worry, you won't."

As soon as the last syllable left his lips, I tried to catch him off guard by moving forward, and with all the strength I could muster, threw a punch aimed towards his arm. Beckett's instincts were quick however, making it look effortless as he shifted slightly and blocked my punch as he swatted my fist away.

Taking a step back to regain my composure, I brought my arms up to block my face before throwing another punch, this time aiming for his jaw. Yet once again, by simply ducking backwards he managed to avoid getting hit.

I tried again and again, aiming for a different spot each time, but it was no use. Beckett was ready for whatever move I made. With one last attempt, I moved as though I was about to throw another punch, but instead, I lifted my leg and kicked it out towards his stomach.

It wasn't him that was caught off guard, but rather myself, when he wrapped a hand around my ankle and swept my other leg out from under me.

Landing with my back pressed against the mat, I felt the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I struggled to regain my breath. "Shit," I gasped.

Beckett took a step closer to me, offering his hand in assistance. "You okay?" he asked, looking a bit concerned as I slipped my hand into his and got back to my feet.

"I'm fine," I nodded, still breathing heavily. "How are you so good at this?"

"I was trained to fight," he shrugged, "Having strength and a good technique are only a small part it, because if you're not able to defend against your opponent and protect yourself, the rest of it is useless. It's all about studying the other person's body language – watching what side their favouring, where their eyes are looking, what their attack patterns are – and then using the things you notice to your own advantage."

"So what you're saying, is that I suck," I said defeatedly.

"You're actually not as bad as I thought you'd be," he replied. "You know how to throw a basic punch and you have a decent amount of power behind your hits, but you do have a lot to learn if you're going to be sticking around here for a while."

Crossing my arms across my chest, I didn't know what to say.

"Here," Beckett continued, taking note of my uncertainty, "let me show you something. Position your feet as if you were about to fight." Although I wasn't sure where he was going with this, I spread my feet to the width of my hips and placed my left foot in front of my right, placing my weight on right. "You're putting most of your weight on your back foot, which minimizes the amount of movement you have," he stated, pointing to my right leg. "It's best to keep your weight centered, and since your right leg seems to be the one you're favouring, make sure to stand on the ball of your foot so you can move quickly if the situation calls for it."

Taking his direction, I shifted slightly, bringing my fists up to a position to strike. "Like this?"

With his eyes on my feet, he nodded, though as he lifted his gaze to examine the rest of my body, he didn't hesitate to correct my form. "Your knees and feet should be aligned and your hips and your upper body should be turned slightly towards the right," he said, pointing out each part of my body and waiting until I corrected my stance to continue. "Also, your right elbow should be tucked in closer to your ribs while your fist should be resting near your jaw."

As I repositioned my right arm, I felt his hand grip my left wrist slightly as he brought my fist out further from my body.

"There," he nodded in acceptance, taking a step back, "now try to hit me again."

Getting comfortable in my stance as he shifted into a similar position, I took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before I attacked. My moves weren't aggressive, but rather calculated as I tried to land a punch, though it wasn't a surprise that he managed to block my attempts. He was a good fighter – I'd give him that, but with his tips, I definitely felt more in control of my body.

Surprisingly, as my heart rate began to increase, I felt a rush of energy surge through me. Shifting my right foot a few inches, I managed to turn my body and throw one last punch towards Beckett's ribs, feeling my fist graze against his body before he turned and caught my wrist.

His grip loosened as I stepped back, and even though I knew he was going easy on me, I couldn't help the smile that spread across my lips. "I did it," I said, as if in awe that I managed to get passed his defences – if only for a second.

It caught me by surprise to see a genuine smile appear on Beckett's lips. "Good job," he said, though when he took a few steps back, I noticed his expression shift back to one that was lacking any kind of emotion.

In the short time that I'd been at the Division, Beckett and I hadn't been able to agree on much. There was rarely a time where I wouldn't feel a jolt of irritation while in his presence, and any interaction between us seemed to be forced by others – whether that be Catherine, Kira, or fate looking down on us and laughing at our misery.

Tonight, however, while I know he didn't expect to see me, nor I him, our differences seemed to fade away once we'd begun to fight, and the irony wasn't lost on me – that the only time the two of us could be civil around each other was when we were fighting.

Staying where I was as I watched him retreat to the punching bags, he looked back with a miffed expression. "Is there something else you wanted?"

Narrowing my eyes at his disgruntled tone, I was tempted to turn and head back to my room, but my curiosity got the better of me. "How often do you stay late into the night and train?"

I noticed the split second of surprise that crossed his features when my reply wasn't a snappy comeback, but it faded quickly as he shrugged. "Most nights," he replied simply. "Either I'm waiting to be called out an assignment or I'm the last agent here because I like to train by myself – I like the silence."

It wasn't hard to tell that his last words were added specifically for me, and while my instincts were to roll my eyes and let my sarcasm reign, I held my tongue. There was an idea floating around my head, and while on some levels it was crazy, it also required Beckett and me to be on the same page.

"How do you feel about training me to fight?"

His head jerked quickly towards me. "Seriously?"

I nodded with affirmation. While I was sure that my upcoming meetings with Catherine would help strengthen my physical abilities, I highly doubted that she'd starting by teaching me how to fight. Training at night would give me the freedom to progress at my own speed without having everyone's eyes on me, and the fact that I might end up landing a punch or two on Beckett in the future was something that greatly appealed to me.

The creaking of a door caused my reply to stick in my throat however, because as I took a glance at the barn doors, nobody was there.

"Hey guys."

"Finn," I said, surprised as I whirled back around to see him walking towards us from the back corner of the room, "what are you doing here?"

"I just got back," he said, nodding his head towards the door to the storage closet. In a quick flashback to the night I'd tried to escape, I remembered that there was an elevator back there which led to a parking garage. "I should've been back hours ago, but I got a bit held up," he continued, shifting his gaze between Beckett and I. "What about you two, how come you're up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep," I replied easily, "so I thought I'd walk around for a bit, but I didn't think I'd see anyone in here training – the lights were off."

I risked a glance at Beckett to see that while he'd been somewhat closed off just moments ago, he was now worked up with anger. His shoulders were stiff, his teeth were gritted together, his hands were clenched into fists at his side, and his gaze had hardened as he focused on Finn. It wasn't hard to tell that something was off, but as Finn let loose a laugh, I turned back to him with a smile.

"Yeah, he's weird like that," Finn said in a teasing tone, referencing Beckett. "He likes to train in the dark, but most of us know to just steer clear of him in general when he's training."

If it was possible, I could almost sense that Finn's words only succeeded in angering Beckett further, but even with the pent-up aggression pumping through his veins, Beckett stayed silent and didn't say a word.

"Come on Aspen, I'll walk you back to your room," Finn offered, "Beckett needs to prep for his assignment tonight anyways."

"You have an assignment tonight?" I asked Beckett, shocked, and wondering what sort of timeline agents managed to live on if their job required them to be ready to go at all hours of the night.

He nodded stiffly, throwing a quick glare at Finn as he moved passed the both of us towards the front doors. "I'll see you both later," he said gruffly.

Watching him disappear, I felt the air lighten, releasing the tension that had filled the room with Finn's appearance. There was clearly a history between Beckett and Finn – one that didn't seem to be all that friendly, but what the specifics were, I couldn't be sure. 

Turning back to face Finn, I noticed the grin on his face as he raised an arm out for me to hold. "Ready?" he asked cheekily.

Pushing any thoughts of the rift between the two men to the back of my mind, I rolled my eyes and smiled, slipping my hand into the crease of his elbow. "Lead the way."

a/n:  so what did you guys think about Beckett and Aspen fighting? And what about the divide between Finn and Beckett – what do you guys think happened between the two? Leave your thoughts and comments below, I'd love to hear them!