The moonlight glistened against the normally dull gravel; dirty stones brushed with the purest of light, making them bright by association. It was a fitting setting for two men, originally heavily flawed and unpolished, who had been enriched by the light shone upon them since the beginning of the end.   

A depressed, selfish alcoholic turned doting father, against a former coward, turned brave and loyal guardian. A rooftop at midnight seemed like a fitting scene for the final fight in a Hollywood movie, but this was far from that.

Max gently parried away Rodney's jabs, his arms pressed tightly together in front of his face like a boxer. Rodney's punches were half-hearted, as if scared of causing Max some real damage, but the lesson worked all the same.

Rodney eventually grew in confidence, powering up a slightly harder right hook towards Max's temple, however, Max had been expecting this. He shifted his feet nimbly to the side, while swatting away Rodney's right arm. He then stepped forward, using his entire bodyweight to drive his own punch directly through the hole that Rodney had left in his guard.

Max's fist ground to a halt inches away from the bridge of Rodney's nose, who stood in pure shock at the speed in which he had just lost.

"See what I mean?" Max asked rhetorically. "Everyone has a pattern, and generally, they want to punch with their strongest arm. What you want to do is-"

"Be patient, mix up my own attacks, keep my guard up, and wait for my opportunity," Rodney finished, like a well tutored school child.

"Exactly," Max smiled, patting his sparring partner strongly on the back. "Let's go again."

The two men had been training in secret ever since they set up camp in their latest spot, a small apartment block just outside the city. Max and Rodney had volunteered to clear the place out while the others secured a few rooms downstairs for them to sleep in.

There hadn't been many clickers lurking in the dingy rooms; most people had fled early on by the looks of the place; but there had been enough to teach Rodney the basics.

He was comfortable with the clickers being at arm's length, using a long blade or gun, what he wanted Max's help with was when it came down to close combat. When you barely had room to breathe, yet along swing a knife, that's when he felt himself panic.

Max taught him to always put something between himself and the clicker, no matter what, otherwise they would be on top of him in a second.

Grab them by the throat to keep their teeth at bay, use your fore arm to drive them back, or a kick to the chest, anything you can do to create some room for yourself. The once you've found that extra pocket of air, use it, drive your weapon forwards, and go for the kill.

Max had been on hand to jump in if the teeth ever got too close for comfort, but in reality, he didn't have to help for a second. Rodney rolled up his sleeves and gritted his teeth, showing a side to him that Max had never seen. It was as if he was using the thought of George harmed, or left alone to drive him on. Fear for another always trumps fear for yourself.

"What's going on here then?" an excited voice cooed from behind Max.

Karl's head, annoying grin and all, had popped around the fire exit door, which was propped open by a cinderblock. He squeezed through the gap, into the moonlight with ever-growing glee has he spotted the fists of both men raised in a fighting stance.

"Is this a fucking fight club?" he squealed, eyes wide with delight and fascination.

Max sighed, he had wanted to keep this under wraps, and he knew that Rodney desired that even more. A grown man asking for training came with it a sense of humiliation, however misplaced.

"I'm just giving Rodney a lesson or two in boxing," Max explained nonchalantly. "He was asking about my school days, I mentioned that I boxed, turns out so did he!"

Karl's eyes narrowed immediately at this revelation, "You boxed in school?" he interrogated.

Rodney glanced towards Max, slightly unsure of what to say, before Max glared back with a determined gaze and an eager nod.

"S-sure I did," Rodney replied.

"You kidding? This guy fought at county level!" Max interjected.

"County level?" Karl enquired coyly.

"That's right."

"Rodney?" he asked again, unwilling to believe the hastily concocted lie.

"If you don't believe me," Max said, curling his bottom lip and offering his place to Karl with a sweep of the arm.

"I'm calling bullshit," Karl smirked, stepping up to take Max's spot.

"Now this is something I would pay to see," JJ called out from the fire exit, as he too shimmied his way through the gap.

"Who's keeping watch downstairs?" Max asked.

"Dawson," JJ replied. "Lizzie and George are asleep in one of the rooms."

Karl laughed in the background, "Dawson's on Hilde-guard duty."

As much as Max wanted Karl to be put in his place, he couldn't keep his bottom lip from trembling into a grin. "Well, you're just in time to watch Mike Tyson versus Mike Myers."

Karl looked Rodney up and down, slightly more tentatively now that he was stood in front of the slightly taller man. Rodney had the weight as well as the height on his young foe, but Karl always exuded a thick blend of arrogance and confidence that made Rodney wary of him.

"Starting to regret your decision there Karl?" Max teased as he stopped between the two fighters.

Karl exhaled cockily, "C'mon, it's Rodney we're talking about, and he's not the only one who can box."

JJ coughed loudly, "Chess club!"

"Just get on with it!" Karl snapped, raising his hands to shield his face.

Max put his arm between Rodney and Karl, before backing away slowly and then raising it to the air, "Fight!"

Karl came out of the blocks fast, stepping up towards Rodney as he jabbed at his guard. Rodney remembered what Max had taught him, matching Karl's footwork as best he could, in order to create room for his own attacks. Just after Karl's initial barrage, Rodney dropped his right shoulder, fainting to move that way, before planting a strong left hook into Karl's ribs.

The younger man stepped back a few paces, visibly winded by Rodney's punch, but after a determined shake of the head to compose himself, he was back on the front foot. There was something inside of Karl that simply would not allow him to lose to Rodney, his pride was at stake.

Karl worked Rodney's body, laying in hit after hit, with Rodney doing his best to keep the attacks at bay with the odd jab from his long, spindly arms. Karl took the initiative, forcing Rodney back as he eroded his defences, leaving no opening for any retaliation. Rodney's head dipped down as he desperately tried to shield both his body and skull from the punches, which were growing in power. A sparring match had turned into an ego fuelled war.

Rodney peered through the slim gap between his forearm shield's, with Karl's pink, angry face bobbing between them. His arms were burning more and more with every bare-knuckle punch, Karl's bony fingers acting like sharp stones against his skin.

Then it suddenly occurred to him, despite not being a fighter of any kind, Rodney could still hear Max's words ringing in his ears.

'Everyone has a pattern.'

Rodney's left arm was in far more considerable pain than his right, and as he gazed between them once again, he noticed that Karl was now only punching with his strong right hand. His left had grown tired, and was being used to shield his face, while the right continued to fight this war of attrition.

Rodney sank deeper, but this time on purpose, making it seem like he was on his last legs. He wanted Karl to feel that he had the fight all but won; he wanted him to drop his concentration for a split second, and then Rodney pounced.

It was a simple move, but had to be timed right, as Karl swung his latest right hook towards Rodney's face, the older man shot up and stepped sharply to the left. As he moved, Rodney pushed out his left arm, sweeping away what was left of Karl's punch, before aiming a strong fierce jab into the gap that Karl's arm had vacated.

Rodney's knuckle connected strongly with Karl's cheek, as he had deliberately aimed away from the nose. The last thing they wanted was a needless broken bone, with no functioning hospital to take him to. Blood and saliva sprayed from Karl's mouth as his body snapped to the right, sending him tumbling to the ground in a daze.

Max jumped between the two fighters, before grabbing Rodney's wrist and raising is sharply into the air.

"Well done mate," Max whispered proudly into his ear.

JJ offered a hand to the fallen Karl, who was still regaining his slightly blurred vision, however, the defeat would clearly leave a more permanent scar.

"He cheated!" Karl accused. "I didn't think we were going all out like that!"

"C'mon Karl," JJ sighed, helping his brother to his feet. "You were dishing out just as much as you got."

"Whose side are you on?" Karl snapped at his twin, shaking off his hand and storming towards the fire exit, muttering words including 'bullshit' and prick'.

"I'll go and talk to him," JJ said, smiling wryly at both Rodney and Max before bounding after Karl.

As soon as JJ was out of sight, Max wrapped his arms around Rodney, clapping his hand against his back as he did so.

"There you go!" he yelled. "I told you a little bit of training is all you needed."

Rodney laughed, "Thanks Max, but let's not get carried away, I beat a teenager, not a heavy weight champion."

"Not yet," Max winked. "Now get your guard up, let's go again."

***

JJ followed his brother down the apartment block stairs, all the way to the bottom, where Karl had gone to sulk in one of the spare rooms.

"What was that all about?" JJ demanded, as he stormed through the doorway.

"Oh, fuck off, JJ! I'm not in the mood for a lecture," Karl yelled back, his face still glowing red, partially from embarrassment, partially from sheer anger.

JJ shut the door softly behind him, "Keep it down will you! You'll wake George and Lizzie," he urged in harsh whispers.

Karl threw his arms into the air in frustration, "That's it! That's it right there!"

"What's it?" JJ asked, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck have I done now?"

"You'll wake up George and Lizzie," Karl imitated in a high pitched, moany voice.

"What's wrong with tha-"

"That's all you ever talk about now! Lizzie this, and Lizzie that. All you do is fucking swoon after her all day long, it's pathetic!"

"Am I supposed to apologise for making an effort, and being happy?" JJ scoffed.

"No," Karl assured. "No, of course you're not."

"The what is this really about?"

"It's about you, and her," Karl explained, his voice now softer, quieter, more meaningful. "Ever since she turned up, it's just been you and her, and don't get me wrong, if there's something going on there, I'm happy for you, I really am...it's just..."

"You miss it being just me and you," JJ finished.

"How'd you know?"

JJ laughed in disbelief, "Because I feel like that all the time too, you dickhead! I always have. Back at the children's home, at school, even over the past six months at times, it's always been just me and you. Do you really think that's going to change?"

"But...Lizzie-"

"Lizzie what?" JJ asked. "Lizzie is part of the group now, and yes, I've been spending a lot of time with her, hell, I'll even admit that I like her, but don't think for a second that anything will change between me and you...ever."

The twins fell silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say to each other. They were close, as close as two people can be, but they weren't exactly used to sharing such explicit affection. They usually showed how much they loved each other through a sarcastic comment, or harsh teasing.

"You like her then?" Karl smiled, nudging JJ with his elbow suggestively.

"Oh, fuck off," JJ laughed. "I don't know, I'm just going to see what happens."

Karl chuckled to himself, before averting his gaze, without saying a word.

"What?" JJ questioned.

"Just going to see what happens," Karl repeated with another exhale of breath. "That kinda sums up everything nowadays, doesn't it?"

"You're not wrong," JJ smiled, leaving it just long enough before saying: "I hope you realise that I'm never going to forget Rodney flooring you like that."

"Oh, please, don't!" Karl begged, thrusting his head into his hands.

"It could be worse, bro," JJ consoled, placing a warming hand on Karl's shoulder.

"How?"

"You could be called Hildegarde."

Both brothers shared a subtle grin at the joke, which turned into muffled laughter, and before long they were both rolling around on the floor, clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

The door thrust open, and Dawson's head poked around the side. "What the hell is going on in here?" she demanded.

"Nothing Hildy!" the twins responded in unison, only adding fuel to the laughter.