"Form your fingers into claws. Aim for eyes, throat, and balls."
Who: Frodo and Kirk What: Self-defense training! When: Before the log where Kirk and Scotty meet Uhura. Where: Dojo Rating: PG-13. potential (if mild) trigger warning (mention of sexual assault defense) Status: Complete
Jim had finally felt well enough to attempt resuming teaching at the dojo, even using his bullet wound as a prime example of ‘don’t bring your fists to a gunfight’ followed by techniques to disarm or distract an armed attacker should the situation ever arise. The best advice he could give was ‘remain calm and keep the guy talking.’ Sometimes it was better to just let yourself get robbed; no material object was worth getting shot. The discussion had gone onto dealing with armed sexual assault; a touchier subject and one Kirk was uncomfortable discussing but he felt he tackled it well enough.
He was exhausted by the end of the session, and he still had the unusual private request. He had time enough to clean up before plopping down on a mat to wait for one Frodo Baggins.
Frodo Baggins was a man who probably had no idea what he was getting himself into. He rarely did. But a few recent and decidedly odd events had roused his confidence, and this seemed like the logical next step.
He entered the dojo dressed in what he thought was appropriate attire for the occasion: sweats and a tee. Then again, he had never been to a dojo before. He’d never exercised outside his home gym, unless you counted the ocean, but even that was a private beach, so...
He spotted Mr. Kirk quickly. He’d seen is face on the network more than once. He crossed the floor, careful to avoid treading his sneakers across the mats, and offered the much younger man his hand. Much younger than he’d been expecting. Frodo wondered if he might be in over his head.
Frodo Baggins. The name sounded familiar, like something that belonged in that walking movie. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Usually he taught women - and contrary to popular belief he kept his flirting professional to set them at ease.
He looked up, and then tilted his head. At least he hadn't shown up in a business suit. From what he was being paid he'd half-expected that. The sweats were just fine. The man seemed a bit older than he'd been expecting. He pushed himself to his feet and offered his hand, "Frodo Baggins? Jim Kirk."
Frodo gauged by the strength of the man’s handshake that, even if there was no way to yet prove that he was in over his head, he would certainly have some bruises to show for his troubles.
They’d spoken on the phone already, when Frodo had made the appointment. He’d explained that the aforementioned recent and odd events had led him to believe that he’d to well to know some defensive maneuvers. You know, in case he ever found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and the scant luck he’d been born with finally ran out. “So, what do you have in store for me?” he asked.
“I thought we’d start a little light today. A basic escape technique.” Jim smiled easily at Frodo, gesturing for him to come closer, “If someone tries to grab you, there are a couple of weak spots you can exploit. First, the shin and foot. You can scrap your heel down their leg and onto their foot, if they’re behind you. You can also leverage their arm and elbow.” Speaking of Elbows, they made excellent weapons. Jim would be sure to cover that.
Well, they were just jumping right into it, weren’t they? But that’s what he had paid for. Frodo moved into position, comforted by the knowledge that he had also paid that this man teach him how not to get killed. The chances of major injury were very slim.
Jim demonstrated the technique he'd told Frodo, then had the older man try to use it on him. He going to pop that wound open at this rate, but he actually didn't mind - it was good. The pain could push him forward!
The next technique was his favorite, the elbow to the face, "Hit them right on the nose, combine that with the shin and you can put distance between you. There's a couple other things you can do."
He took Frodo's hand, "Form your fingers into claws. Aim for eyes, throat, and balls." He always liked watching men's reaction to the latter, and so he watched, casually.
Frodo choked on awkward laugh, like a cough. But overall, he felt the session was going well. No bones had been broken, no heart attacks had been suffered, although he had already broken into an slightly embarrassing sweat. He chalked it up to using new sets of muscles.
“Now, what if I’m outnumbered?” he asked. “Because last week I found myself in a situation where... I was outnumbered.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how much of a risk he had taken that infamous night--infamous in his own mind, anyway; but the odds had been somewhere around three-to-one, even with his hired bodyguard.
"Run," Kirk replied, truthfully. Even if he'd never take his own advice in that circumstance. An instance of do as I say, not as I do, if ever there was one.
"If you have just one holding you, you can escape. You're spry enough, use that to your advantage. Don't be afraid to draw blood if you have to. If you're cornered to unable to escape, curl up and try to protect vital areas." If weapons were involved....Kirk pondered this, "We'll get into throws and more advanced techniques later. If you think you'll be in situations like that you'll need them."
Frodo seemed like an avid learner. He could teach him. we can rebuild him, we can make him stronger
“Spry, eh?” he repeated. That was a fancy way of saying only 99% hopeless. Kirk was just being polite, but he was good at it. Frodo momentarily believed him. ”I’m trying to avoid totally embarrassing myself in the future.”
“The fact you’ve made it out of that situation alive is testament to your inner fortitude,” Kirk replied, grinning. He’d finally placed the name and could understand what Isabela had meant. His gaydar, however, was not going off with klaxons, so he attributed Bela’s description to his original guess. The little man liked her.
Kirk’s grin was somewhat unsettling, an opinion Frodo formed very suddenly--and judgements were something that seldom came to him with any swiftness. “I, uh... “ he uttered, unsure if there was anything he was about to say. There was a sly glint in the other man’s eyes. Frodo didn’t know what to make of it.
“Yes,” he finally continued, “But I had some backup that night. If I’m being completely honest...”
“Numbers. The best defense. If you have enough people at your back you can overcome anything.” Kirk grinned at the memories, then sobered a bit, “Not always an excuse to look for trouble, as easy as that might sound. But still, safety in numbers.”
He rolled his shoulders, pacing slightly though it didn’t fully conceal the limp, “If you’re going to look for trouble, plan ahead. Escape routes, plans, where to meet up if you have to split up. Treat it like a military operation. Its when trouble finds you that you have the most trouble. And something tells me that’d be your biggest concern.”
Frodo noted the limp. He wondered having a maimed opponent was the reason why he was keeping up so well. Though, if he was being fully honest with himself, Frodo had to admit he was maybe beginning to believe he was, indeed, more spry than he had ever realized. It did feel a bit like he was discovering a previously unknown talent--a talent for ducking and weaving, but a talent nonetheless.
"Everything all right?" he asked, gesturing to Kirk's leg.
Kirk glanced down at his leg, “An unfortunate encounter with a little person and his gun.” He’d proven, that even in a state of mild inebriation he could throw himself in front of a friend to take a bullet. He was just glad it missed anything vital, “A friend worked with one who carries a grudge.”
“So you were shot by a friend of a friend?” Frodo asked, taking advantage of the break in the action to catch his breath.
“I’m not sure I’d call him a friend,” Kirk mused. “Scotty blew him up. On accident. The man likes to push his machines too far, but sometimes you need a guy like that.” His voice was full of respect.
To this, Frodo didn’t know what to say and his mouth hung open for a good while. “Scotty?” he finally asked. There was an abrupt twinge in his right shoulder, which caused him to utter a small cry of pain. He rolled his arm slowly. “Sorry, not you. Previous injury.”
Kirk came around to look at the shoulder, “Sore muscle? I know a trick if thats it.”
“Eh... sure,” Frodo replied. Of course, he didn’t want to get into waking up in a hospital bed covered in stab wounds. Who would?
Kirk put his arm on the back of Frodo’s shoulder, and then pushed and twisted at the same time.
“Crikey!” Frodo exclaimed, though he’d simultaneously bit his tongue and it came out with all the letters mixed up. His knees buckled a bit, too.
“Easy there.” Kirk steadied the other man, “Try rolling your shoulder now. It should be a little loser, if still a bit sore.” He wasn’t a doctor damn it but he still knew a few tricks!
Frodo gave it another roll. It didn’t feel any better. In fact, it felt a lot worse. But it wasn’t anything he couldn’t live with. He got back into position so that they could continue their session. “So, how long have you been doing this?”
Now that he was facing him again, Frodo’s thoughts returned to the disconcerting grin from before. There had been something almost familiar about it, even though he knew they had never met before. Why was it so easy to recall this man’s smile?
And then something clicked, or rather began to click. He considered the bullet wound, and the mention of a Scotty; he thought about the network and who seemed to be in contact with whom. “You know, I just realized we might know someone in common. Isabela Rivaini. Owns a pawn shop.”
“About four years,” the younger man replied. He started to show him an easy way to use a larger opponent’s weight against them when he stopped. He was right! Of course, he was usually right, but that was besides the point. He nodded his head, “I know her.” Quite well, judging by the fond, slightly leering grin on his face, “She’s a lot of fun.” And he didn’t just mean sexy fun times, either, “How’d you meet her?”
Frodo knew he was lacking in a few cerebral talents, but he was no idiot. And although he couldn’t say he felt jealous, at least not the traditional sense, he did note a physical pang, like a balloon popping inside his chest. “She... was my backup... that night. Are you two...?”
“Friends,” He assured him. Neither of them were good at that long term thing, though he’s tried once or twice. He still had regrets about Gillian. He wasn’t going to try again, not with a woman cut from the same cloth as him. As appealing as the thought might be. Damn, now he was thinking it, “Your backup?” Damn, Isabela had balls. Frodo continued to speak as though he wasn’t put off by anything, which he technically wasn’t, or he thought he wasn’t or-- either way, he sort of regretted sharing Isabela’s feats of daring the moment he saw how it sparked Krik’s interest. His tongue kept moving anyway. “Well, she hooked me up with a bodyguard, but I guess she was still concerned about me, so she ended up showing up that night.” And then Frodo regretted admitting he needed both a bodyguard and a woman to keep him safe that night.
“Safety in numbers,” Kirk reminded him of the earlier part of the lesson. “There’s no shame in that, not when your life is on the line. Pride comes later.” He demonstrated a throwing technique, then came up behind Frodo to try to get the man to fling him.
Frodo wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, but suddenly he was on the ground. And he felt it really ought to have gone the other way around. He was finding it... difficult to focus.
Jim scratched the back of his neck, “I think that’s enough for today, Mr. Baggins.” He walked over to his pack and pulled out a bottle of water, bringing it over to the other man, “Here, you’re probably dehydrated.”
He had the momentary mad vision of trying to teach this man wilderness survival. He doubted Frodo could survive more than a day or two lost in the woods. Oh if only he knew.
Frodo accepted the bottle, trying his best to look like he wasn’t gasping for breath. He twisted off the cap, squinting up at the man who had handed it to him. He felt a little embarrassed for allowing himself to get warm--if not exactly hot--under the collar. This guy was a good guy. And he had Isabela were only friends, and she and Kirk were only friends, they were all only friends... together!
“I might need some time to recover,” said Frodo. “Before we take this up again.”
Kirk probably should have clarified the friends with benefits part, but Frodo wasn’t the sort of person one bragged at. He nodded his head, “You’ve got my number, just give me a call and let me know when you want to do this again.” He flashed him another grin, “This was fun!”
With a grunt, Frodo pushed himself to his feet. He offered the man his hand, wincing a little at the pain that still lingered in his shoulder. “Yes. Fun.”