Reunion (Matt)

[Dean]

Dean dropped the Rattan stick again, swearing under his breath. He was trying to clear his head, training in the Hanger. A lot had happened and Dean just needed some time to sort things out. He was out of practice with the rattan since joining with the African camp and he needed the extra practice anyway. He just hadn't expected that he'd suck this much only after a few months.

He was in a plain white tank and jeans on, his typical training outfit. He was thinking of going and grabbing his gloves though, his hands were taking a beating from his more than usual clumsiness with the simple weapon. Archer bent down and snatched the stick off of the cold metal floor, resetting to try again. He got about halfway through his set before the rattan slipped out of his hands, shooting across the bay. A distant crash followed by numerous clanking noises followed shortly.

This is were Dean would usually flinch, but right now he was just pissed off. He threw his hands up in the air, shouting "Dammit!" in frustration. He was about to walk over to go find his training tool from whatever wreckage it was under when he heard footsteps approaching.

[beachbeagle]

Matt had been walking past the hanger when he'd heard the crash caused by the rattan, though since he couldn't see it he had no clue what had happened. His assumption was that it was one of the recruits, or a few of them, messing around. Hopefully they weren't hurt, and most could morph so injuries could be gotten rid of, but it would be wise to check anyways. Besides, Joel was one of said recruits. Matt couldn't get enough of his brother being here no matter how immature he was and what things seemed like to Joel. Matt just kept thinking he'd wake up and it would be dream, Joel would be a controller again.

At any rate, Matt turned and entered the Hanger, pausing in the doorway when he saw who was there. Matt hadn't known Dean Archer had been recruited to the Academy, probably as a student. Matthew remembered Dean. He'd morphed tiger to help the man take on some controllers who'd been outnumbering him. After that Archer had been brought back to the mansion that served as the L.A. hideout, via the sewer tunnels that had been mapped in the faction's earlier days. Dean had passed his three day yeerk screening, been given the ability to morph, and then had vanished shortly later.

Seeing who it was now, Matt wasn't sure how to feel. Dean had been the second person Matt had recruited who had run away, becoming what they referred to as rogue Animorphs. While Matt's insides warred between anger and indifference, his face stayed completely passive. In the end he just said, "I wondered if you might turn up here, Archer. Animorphs aren't exactly commonplace."

((OOC: That's my interpretation of the changes the way you mentioned them in the C-Box. Let me know if I'm wrong and I'll change it.))

[Dean]

Dean recognized the voice. Matt was the faction leader for L.A. when he met him, he seemed like an ok guy. Dean didn't stay long enough to find out otherwise. He had come back to the states to fight the yeerks in his hometown of Tanic, Texas, but when he got there all he found was ruin and wasteland. He somehow found his way into L.A. and got pinned down by some human controllers. Long story short, Matt bailed him out and he offered Dean the chance to become an Animorph. He accepted. But when news got through of the nuke going off in Dallas, Dean didn't see any reason left to stay. His only intention in coming back was to try and save Texas. He made the call that it was best for him to leave, he did better on his own anyway.

At least that what Dean told himself.

Dean kept his back to Matt, cocking his head to the side, saying "Howdy there Tigger. Fancy seeing you here. You're a little far from home, aren't you?" He had changed the subject on purpose, he didn't feel like talking about himself. And a small part of him wondered why Matt was here instead of L.A.. Whatever the reason, it couldn't be good...

((OCC: It looks good to me ))

[beachbeagle]

Matt laughed a bit at being called Tigger. Dean had first met Matt in his Siberian tiger morph, so it was the second morph related nickname Matt had earned for himself. I think I'm more partial to Bruce, but only Tim has ever called me that and I think I'll reserve it for him.

"True," he said in response to Dean's comment about Matt's distance from home. Home for Matt, to Dean, was probably Los Angeles. He stayed in the doorway as he spoke, leaning against the door frame. "I'm far from any place I might have called home."

Home. Matt wasn't sure what he'd call it anymore. Chicago held a lot of bad memories for him, so while that was the place he'd been born it wasn't where he'd call home. Los Angeles had memories and was where he'd led his faction, but he'd never had Joel and Sara there. Home was probably where those two were, which was currently here at the Academy. He'd keep that to himself though.

"As far as what I'm doing here, Cassie decided I was needed here more than in Los Angeles. I'm training future faction leaders rather than leading a faction of my own now." Matt honestly hoped the fact that he was a teacher wasn't a huge surprise to Dean. "And I'd assume you're here as a recruit." Dean seemed intent to dodge talking about himself, which was fine with Matt. He'd live with his own assumptions if Dean didn't give him something else.

[Dean]

Dean shrugged, "I guess that's what I am. I got picked up from Africa by some of your boys." He turned around to face Matt, " Apparently it's too much of a liability having a rogue Animorph on the loose. So here I am."

Dean turned back around and headed for the pile of junk that his rattan had crashed into. He called back behind him, " I guess when Cassie says 'jump'..." He trailed off, rummaging through the wreckage.

Archer figured it best to initiate some small talk. Even though he was terrible at it. "With you gone though, what happens to the L.A. Faction?"

[beachbeagle]

"Well, it's not the first rogue Animorph we've had, but we certainly don't need them. I doubt anyone will ever find Vyvyan, but we need to tie up whatever lose ends we can," Matt said. Archer hadn't been the first to leave L.A. faction after getting the power to morph, but Matt hadn't expected to see either member who had again.

"As far as Cassing saying jump," his voice held a noticeable edge when he said this. "I need a break or I was going to lose it. I'm empathic. I'm not meant to go around killing people and not care about it. I'm not meant to lose people I care about and stay strong for others at the same time. I was coming apart at the seams, and Cassie offered me a break I gladly took."

Though, not too gladly. Archer brought up one big reason Matt hadn't been exactly in a rush to become a teacher here. "The members of L.A. faction were spread into other factions where they're needed. Another faction will be set up there when we get a leader willing to take the city..... or perhaps when I feel I'm ready to go back out there." Though that was more of an if than a when.

"I didn't want to leave that city undefended, but I was going to be doing no good if I kept going as I was. It will hopefully be okay for the time being. Otherwise that goes on my conscience along with everything else."

[Dean]

Dean kept rummaging through the pile looking for his weapon,a small smile spreading on his face. He'd figured he might offend the leader by disrespecting his leader, but frankly he didn't care too much. He liked Matt fine enough, but this Cassie he had never met and she still felt it best to decide what was best for him and the people he was charged to protect. He would tackle that conversation later though. He felt it best not to say anything more on the subject and just get back to his training.

Dean finally found his Rattan, pulling it out of the junk, warranting some more crap to fall to the floor with various clinks and clatters. He held the stick in his hands for a couple of heartbeats, thinking.

"I can understand that", said Dean softly. " You learn to live with it though. The unknown. The worry, I mean." He kept his back to him again. He didn't know why, but Archer didn't feel like looking the teacher in the eyes. Not right now.

" It doesn't get any easier, but you do get used to it." He turned around and walked back to where he had originally stood. He had brought one of his canvas Army bags with him. The sack contained various items, First aid kit, some medical and electrical tape if Dean decided to start kick box training.

And something else that Matt might find interesting.

Dean reached down into the sack, sifting though the contents. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. He pulled it out, tossing it over to Matt.

As He threw his spare Rattan, Dean casually said, "I reckon the only way I'm gonna get back to where I was before is to have myself a sparing partner.

Care for a run or two." Dean finished with one of the first genuine smiles he had had in a good long while

[gabriel]

Matt caught the unfamiliar weapon, snatching it easily out of the air without giving the action much thought. He looked down at it, a little surprised to find it in his hand as opposed to on the floor. It always surprised him to discover his body had changed from the small and slight teenage boy who'd spent more time on a stage than in a field.

He gripped the shaft of the unfamiliar weapon. He had never fought someone in his own body before nor ever trained for it. He wasn't sure he relished the idea of doing so now either. He knew that Kovu taught hand to hand combat but he'd never thought to add it to his own skills. If he was forced to use violence he hoped he never had to do it with his own hands. After almost two years of bloodshed it was all too easy to imagine the damage the weapon could wreck. Skulls split and bleeding, people hurt. He'd seen it before and he'd come here to escape it, at least in part. And to send others out to do your killing for you?

He looked up at Dean, his calm eyes troubled. He had never really thought about what his role as a teacher would entail. Yes, he'd known he'd be training animorphs to fight, to be better leaders, using the hard won knowledge of faction leadership to teach them how to be better leaders. But he'd never thought of it as passing on his responsibility.

And he shouldn't, he thought as he stood a little straighter. If what he did now was a step removed from the battlefield it was still vital. He was doing his part and Cassie had trusted him to do this job.

"I don't know how to use it," he said, holding the weapon more like a stick he'd pick up on the street than an instrument meant to inflict pain. "I'm not sure how good of a partner I'd be."

[Dean]

Dean smiled at Matt, witch seemed like was becoming a habit. His cheeks already hurt. Matt was one of a short list of people Dean respected. Really short. Like less than one hand's worth. He nodded to the Animorph and motioned for him to come over.

"Its really not as hard as it seems. It's all about using your gravity and potential energy to your advantage and turning your opponents against them. The movements and strikes become more like a dance- muscle memory." Archer took his stance again, really hoping he didn't spill again now that he had an audience. He managed to get through his set, albeit a couple of bruised fingers...and ribs...and fingers.

"It's just physics and reflexes. Come on Teach, show me what you got."

[gabriel]

Matt had watched closely as Dean had moved through the movements, his own arms and legs moving a little as he tried to grasp the concept. When Dean turned to him Matt just shook his head. "I don't have it yet. Can you do it one more time? I'll try to shadow you."

The movements Dean had performed reminded Matt a little of the taichi his drama teacher had once tried to teach them. Matt had never really gotten into it as a martial art but it had been useful for learning to communicate with other actors.

Matt gripped the stick, well weapon, firmly and got into a stance in preparation for following Dean's movements. "So what have you been doing since LA?" Matt asked, trying to make conversation.