&& 07. BAD MEMORIES

[✖STRIDE✖]

It was after Karate practice and he was exhausted. But a good type of exhausted. The type where you've been doing something that energizes you and that you excel at. Thats the kind of exhausted that Emilio was at the moment. Walking home, his backpack slung over his shoulder loosely, whistling a rather curious tune. It had been a good day today. Drills had gone smoothly and practice fights had been swift today. He hadn't won every fight he'd been in, but about 90% of them he won or tied. This was normal. This was the kind of group he really enjoyed being in because most of the other students accepted and respected him. Karate was important to him. It had been ever since he was a kid. Five years old to be exact.

But he didn't go to Karate class for 12 years and not learn how to watch his surroundings carefully. It didn't take him long to realize that he wasn't alone on the streets. He watched as the sun started to go down and the shadows started to lengthen dramatically. He continued to whistle happily as he walked down the street, hoping against hope that what he knew to be true was a lie.

"Hey Diablo, Stop being such a sass." Emilio stopped in his tracks and stood in the middle of the walkway with a rather blank expression. The voice had come from behind him. Which meant that behind him wasn't the only place they would be. He was probably surrounded. Damn... With a smile playing back on his lips Emilio turned back around to face the other. It had been several months since he'd heard his old nickname. His icey blue eyes landed on that of a thin but well built man.

"Dagger! Long time no see! How's life as the new second to the Street Wolves? How's Cam? He doing good?"

"Cam's dead." said the man called Dagger, harshly. "Got shot. I've taken over as the new lead."

Emilio frowned. "Oh? Then what are you doing so close to Cross Territory? I'm sure they'd be pretty pissed if they found out that you brought half the Wolves so close to their line."

Dagger scoffed bitterly. "They don't know. And they won't know. Not until after we're long gone. I want to offer you a deal."

Emilio narrowed his eyes. "What I told Cam still applies, Dagger. I'm not coming back. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder all the time and loosing the people I care about. I'm not rejoining the Wolves. And thats final."

"Thats a pity." Said Dagger with his arms crossed. Then he flicked his hand and about twenty guys stepped out of their hiding places. Emilio glared at the leader of his former gang. Then he glanced at a few of the other members. A pair of twins with Jet black hair and glowing green eyes. Those were the Lick twins. Slick and Flick. They were so upset that they couldn't even look at him. He counted several other friend's but all of them seemed pretty upset to be there. "Then we'll just have to get rid of you Diablo. No more having to worry about you falling into the wrong hands. And I'm pissed off. You were a good member and you threw it all away. Shame shame shame. And you could have been lead instead of me. Look what happens when you give up something so good. You get killed." With another flick of his hand the group that surrounded him began to advance toward him. While he tightened his lips, he did not make any sudden moves as they moved toward him.

[maka albarn]

Rows of rag-like laundry fluttered over head, snapping faintly in a cool breeze as Mikhail made his way down the side-street. Two mangy tomcats watched from windowsills, eyes' contracting to slits. Mikhail sighed and checked his watch. Sensei had ordered him to go running after Emilio and give him some parcel he left back at the dojo. Mikhail didn't like going out of his way to do the Boy Wonder any favors, but he wasn't going to argue with his Master. That bow of acquiescence hid some annoyance, though. After all. A pile of homework, neatly stacked, waited on his desk back home: this little excursion cut into precious study time.

Apart from this side-trip, today hadn't been a bad day. Smooth hours of study at the high-school. His training and sparring sessions had been productive: Mikhail was less dis-satisfied with his performance than usual. It wasn't uncommon for him to spend hours perfecting a single set, and that precision and hard work payed off. Didn't stop him from losing to Emilio, though.

Mikhail was halfway down the street when he heard the voices. The words seemed to run together, broken into little fragments of sound and tone on hard, worn down walls. One voice he didn't know. But the other... Emilio? His tone was light, but something... something felt wrong. Off. Mikhail crept forward without a sound, listening until the words became clear. ".... I'm not rejoining the Wolves. And that's final." Mikhail's eyes narrowed. The Wolves. Was Emilio...? "That's a pity. Then we'll just have to get rid of you Diablo. No more having to worry about you falling into the wrong hands." Icy water seemed to trickle down Mikhail's spine. He reached into his pocket: his cellphone felt cool and smooth against his fingers. "And I'm pissed off. You were a good member and you threw it all away. Shame shame shame. And you could have been lead instead of me." 9-1-1. Dialtone. "Look what happens when you give up something so good. You get killed." When the dispatcher came on, Mikhail only had time to whisper his location before Dagger threatened Emilio's life. There was no time. No time to wait. This was taking too long... and he could hear the slow, uneven sound of twenty men advancing on the unkept pavement. Taking a deep breath, Mikhail turned the corner, and prepared himself for a fight. Emilio stood alone, encircled by his former allies. A Wolf surrounded by his old pack.

"I'm sorry... I seem to have interrupted something." Mikhail's voice was mild and quiet. He stood out of striking distance, but close enough to come to Emilio's aid when things went sour.

Glancing around, Mikhail took stock of their surroundings. No litter to use for projectiles: a few crates stacked along a peeling back wall. A patch of dirt to his right along the edge of one building. One flower pot full of dry caked dirt on a back step a few feet behind two of the gang members. So. The Wolves. Emilio's old gang, right? That didn't matter now: Emilio was a member of his dojo, a fellow student, and his life was in jeopardy. Even if he had been a complete stranger, Mikhail's decision would be the same. Somebody had to help. Otherwise, the police would find Emilio lying in a pool of his own blood.

"The cops are on their way." Mikhail kept his voice calm and level. Non-threatening. Almost as if he was helping Dagger out; what's a little tip between friends? "You might not want to be here when they show up."

[✖STRIDE✖]

"I'm sorry... I seem to have interrupted something." Emilio didn't even have to look in that direction to know who exactly it was that had stepped out from behind the corner. Internally the white haired male was groaning in exasperation. Visibly Emilio merely glanced in his direction. It had nothing to do with the boy's obvious ability to hold himself in a fight. To be honest, if Emilio wanted anyone on his side of a fight, it would be Mikhail. He was one of the few Martial Arts Students who actually cared about studying the art. He worked very hard to perfect his technique and actually wanted to learn. Much like Emilio himself, although he was naturally gifted in the art and didn't have to work as hard as Mikhail did. Although that sometimes meant that Emilio would loose style and technique in favor for speed and strength. He could really learn a lot from Mikhail. But he knew just how much the boy hated him. Why he was here Emilio didn't know, but if it was to mock him or make the situation worse than Emilio would be in a lot of trouble. The only thing that kept a bad rep in Emilio's mind was the idea that Mikhail would never ally himself with a group of lowly gang members. They were too far down in the food chain for Mikhail's "tastes."

Emilio had to stay focused. It was important that he didn't overreact or stress out. He had to stay calm.

"Oh and I suppose you were the one who tried to stop the call from going through little boy?" Dagger said as the group of boys stopped their advance, and Emilio winced at the little boy comment. Oh man... Dagger should NOT insult this one. That was a very BAD move. Hopefully Mikhail had some sense not to just run into the fighting ring with his fists up. He needed this stand off to drag on as long as possible. The closer the time got to the cops coming, the better chance of survival they all had. "Well it doesn't matter. We still have some time before the black and whites come charging in. Enough time to beat you into the ground and leave you suffering in a pool of your own blood." Dagger said turning back to Emilio. But the boy wasn't paying attention. His eyes were now locked on the one's known as Slick and Flick.

"Slick... Flick. Where is your brother? Where's Spade?" As much as Emilio spoke the boys would not look up at him. One stared at the ground with a very blank expression. The other stared off at something outside the ring of Wolves with a rather bitter glare on his face. They stood close to each other as if two young pups afraid of their own surroundings.

"They won't answer you Diablo. If they even so much as make eye contact with you their precious brother will see the depths of hell sooner than even you." Dagger said with a rather sadistic grin. Emilio's eyes snapped to the pack leader. Dead hatred flaring through those wild widened blue eyes.

"You're a fool Dagger. Pitting ones as young as them against a fighter like me is a death sentence. What are you even thinking?!"

"I'm thinking, that no matter what situation you're put into, you will never hurt that of Slick and Flick." Emilio's eyes widened just before he felt the flat bottom of a sneaker land into his lower back. The force of the kick flung him forward and he gasped in shock and pain as a heavy weight landed onto his back shoving him further to the ground, collapsing his arms. His face hit the floor sharply and then he felt a pair of hand reach for his wrists. In one swift movement Emilio grabbed the hand of the boy who had knocked him down and slightly twisted the boy's hand, as well as pressing a pressure point on his wrist to keep him from grabbing hold. Then he pulled the kid over his head and he landed on the ground in front of Emilio on his back. He felt the other boy place his hand on his shoulder and so he turned and caught the punch that was heading toward the back of his head. He held on tightly to Slick's fist as he pulled him forward and quickly grabbed a pressure point just on the base of his neck, knocking the boy right out.

Of course, because Dagger knew of his own soft spot for Slick, Flick, and Spade, it was these three that he had decided to use against him. But Emilio was not going to let the boys be involved. No way. He was glad that the two were so smart. They knew Emilio wouldn't want them involved and had opened themselves up for the much older boy to easily take them out of the game with minimal damage. This would also lead into them doing the jobs they came to do but because they were unable to do them Emilio was unsure if that would lighten Spade's sentence or harshen it. And somehow he had to get these two out of the fighting ring... Or lead the gang away from them. He glanced at Mikhail. If the boy was really here to help rather than hinder then hopefully Emilio could signal him in what to do. Somehow.

Dagger snarled at Emilio and pointed at him. "Kill him!"

[maka albarn]

"Oh and I suppose you were the one who tried to stop the call from going through little boy?" Little boy. Mikhail let the insult slide. This was no time to loose his head over petty talk. Of course the one called Dagger knew Mikhail was no ally to him: who else would have put that call in? Nobody moved to leave, though, despite his warning. Cold, nauseating fear filled the boys' gut; this gang wasn't leaving until the job was finished.

Then Emilio spotted the twins. Slick and Flick. Two mere boys, maybe in their early teens. They couldn't even look at Emilio. Mikhail felt hot anger swallowing up his fear. Eyes flashing, he listened to Dagger threaten and bluster. This brute was the worst sort of bully, the vilest kind of thug. Using children to carry out his dirty work. Swine.

Mikhail stiffened as the boys rushed Emilio, then relaxed again when Emilio incapacitated them with a few quick, painless movements. Daggers' face twisted into a snarl.

"Kill him!"

There was no time to hesitate. Gravel sprayed from Mikhail's heel as he launched forward, quiet and swift like a fox, eyes fixed on Dagger. First order of business: silence the one giving orders. Mikhail grit his teeth, palms damp with sweat. He pushed the cold fear away, turning its' static sound down low until he could barely hear it. Sensei taught him this exercise long ago. Focus. Focus on the fight: don't leave room for anything else.

WHAM. The sole of Mikhail's boot landed square in the small of Daggers' back. The kick had a lot of power behind it: Mikhail put both his own strength and the force of his momentum into the blow. Whipping his foot back, Mikhail kicked Dagger again, this time in the back of the knee. BAM. As the gang leader fell he twisted to try and regain his balance and face his enemy. Another blow knocked one foot out from under him. Dagger hit the ground. Hard. But that didn't stop him from trying to get up again. Mikhail dodged a well-aimed kick. Then, his gaze cold as ice, he swung his foot. Dagger's head jerked back as Mikhail kicked him in the jaw. The gang leader hit the ground, and lay still.

Seventeen to go. Emilio fought for his life in the mass of gang members surrounding him. Mikhail didn't see any guns. The roughs must be carrying knives: he had to assume that was true. You didn't plan a hit and come to finish your foe with your bare hands. Two gang members heard Daggers' body hit the ground. One look from their unconscious leader to the pale kid running at them was all it took. They charged.

In the dojo or in competition, Mikhail's adherence to rules of fair play and good sportsmanship was impeccable. But this wasn't a sparring session. This fight meant life or death. Mikhail used every dirty trick he knew without blinking an eye. That same cold, detached expression on his face. One gang member fell to the ground, hands cupped over his eyes. The other crumpled soon afterwards, doubled over, and Mikhail moved further into the pack of bodies surrounding Emilio. His ribs ached from a heavy blow, but Mikhail ignored the pain. Fifteen to go.

[✖STRIDE✖]

Compared to that of Mikhail, who was not in the midst of a mob of boys ranging in ages from 15 to 25, Emilio was struggling. While he was holding himself pretty well against the onslaught of people he kept the two boys, that lay below him in a pile, from getting hurt as well. So despite his training, protecting one's self AND protecting that of two knocked out teenagers was a lot harder than it looked. He managed to knock two of the attackers out just by ramming them into each other. The group of guys was slowly decreasing, but that didn't mean it got easier. He took another out with a roundhouse kick to the face, But he was forced to do a lot of blocking and rather clumsy attacking to keep those around him from trampling the kids below him.

In the beginning there were no weapons shown. It wasn't a clean battle. Not in the least, but they seemed to think that they could take him out without the use of weapons. They were fools. After a short while Emilio gained confidence, which completely effected his fighting style. These had been former friends and gang-mates, but the idea that they were willing to attack him without a second thought really got his blood pumping. He could see their bitterness and anger behind their eyes as they went full out with their attacks. At least with Flick and Slick they'd only done a half-assed job and had left it completely open for him to take them out without problems. The rest of the gang attack with fury and bitterness towards him.

This certainly made punching them and hitting them in the face easier. With the combined strength of Mikhail and Emilio together the numbers of the attack dwindled. It was strange for him to fight beside Mikhail. Especially since he knew just how much the dark haired teen hated him.

[maka albarn]

Scuffling feet, thudding blows, cracks and grunts echoed in the empty side street. Some punk punched Mikhail from behind. Mikhail grunted, then turned and cracked him in the face. Blood (with a metal-salt taste) left red spatter marks on the ground. Panting, Mikhail glanced up and down the street. Guys lay on the ground: face-down, on their backs, limbs splayed out, limbs tucked in. Half of them down. No, more than half: the weasel-faced punk crumpled to the ground, dazed. Even so: the mass of gang members bore down on Emilio, struggling to protect not only himself, but the two young boys on the ground at his feet.

Emilio couldn't keep the gang members at bay forever. Adrenaline burned in Mikhail's body as he rushed deeper into the fray. Hit from behind. Move fast. Strike hard, duck back. Mikhail was starting to think, We might win this. We could get out of here.

Then a flash of light caught his eye.

"Emilio! Look out!" Darting forward, Mikhail skid between Emilio and the thug rushing him. A long, thin, crooked blade glittering in his hand, raised to cut Emilio's throat. The thug grimaced, rat-teeth bared, eyes glittering. WHIP. The knife slit through the air, aimed at Mikhail's side. Dodge. Block. For a few seconds, the two turned, struck, blocked. Then, Mikhail caught his foes' wrist in a vice-grip. SNAP. The clatter of metal on hard ground was drowned out by a scream: the thug clutched at his twisted, broken wrist. Short-lived victory.

Before Mikhail could even step back, a strong arm wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms down. Mikhail's eyes went wide. Fight back. Pull away. Get away, before -
Sharp pain, worse than any he had felt before, shot through his body; something hard and cold drove into his side. Mikhail let out a choked cry, eyes wide. Wide and frightened. Again the knife bit deep, deep in his abdomen. Mikhail gasped, pure terror and panic flooding his mind. They were going to kill him. He was going to die. He had to get away. Had to fight back or die.

Just moving was excruciating. Mikhail slammed his heel down on his attackers' foot: behind him, Dagger swore and loosened his grip. Mikhail stumbled. Landed on his hands and knees. Crumpled to the pavement when Dagger kicked him, hard; he tried to shield himself with his arms as the savage blows kept coming. Tried to push Dagger away when he pinned him down, arm drawn back for a finishing blow.

[✖STRIDE✖]

"Emilio! look out!" Mikhail's voice caught his attention, causing him to watch in distain as Mikhail stepped in front of the male with a knife and fought him. But seeing his ally got the enemy under control Emilio turned back to his own fight taking out one more person by way of an infuriating punch to the jaw. He saw another member come at him with a silver glinted dagger, but Emilio kicked it out of the man's hand and then kicked him in the chest, pushing him as far away from him as humanly possible. That was when he heard a terrible choking cry from behind him. Ducking under a new attack he turned his eyes to where he'd last seen Mikhail. His heart stoping at the sight he now saw. He watched in shock as Dagger pulled his blade out of Mikhail's side and then stabbed him again. Without having enough time to react, his newest attacker tried a similar tactic on Emilio, seeing as in he was distracted. But the moment the arm went around Emilio's body, he grabbed it and flipped him over his own head, the man crashing on the ground ruthlessly, smashing his head into the cracked asphalt. Now Emilio was pissed.

A new bout of adrenaline flooded into Emilio's veins and the men around him preyed that he didn't get anywhere near them, because he was now playing dirty. His fists and feet moving even faster than before. Then as he neared closer to Dagger and Mikhail, Emilio stuck his hand into his pocket and pressed a button. Wailing sirens seemed to play throughout the street. The gang members that heard it and weren't knocked out fell for the trick and ran. Some that had been knocked out were woken up, and in a daze, ran behind the rest. Dagger on the other hand blinked in shock, looking up at Emilio coming toward him, knife in hand ready to kill the kid laying beneath him. But when he saw Emilio his face contorted into that of fury. It was a trick, but with his current position, there was no time to call his men back. If he could finish Emilio's friend off, that would discourage any snitching the boy might do.

But Emilio wouldn't have it, in one quick movement, for longer range, Emilio kicked the knife out of Dagger's hand and then tackled him to the ground with an angry yell. Instantly showering dagger's face with well aimed, well practiced blows. He did it about sever times before he realized that Dagger was knocked completely unconscious, forcing himself to stop before he went too far. Pulling himself off the unconscious bastard, Emilio made his way quickly over to Mikhail, One of the Twins, Flick, was already sitting next to him, wide awake as ever, shaking him and trying to get him to talk. "Flick Off!" He said stiffly, moving into the spot where his young friend had been sitting only moments before. The boy looked close to tears. Flick had always been the sensitive one. It was why he had to be the one that didn't get fully knocked out or he'd never understand Emilio's methods. Instead the boy had lay on the ground awake and motionless as Emilio fought around them both. Now that he was awake he was going to make it hard to concentrate as he began shooting question after question, not even letting Emilio answer the one before.

As he was trying to look Mikhail over, he felt a buzz of a headache starting. The adrenaline still coursing through his body. Without hesitation he turned to the boy and grabbed his shoulders, a little bit harder than he had intended to. "Flick, I love you, but I need you to be quiet. Take some deep breaths, cry if you want to, but I need you not to talk to me. This is really important. Remember what you did when this happened to Spade? Do it again." After a quick nod from his young companion Emilio himself nodded and turned back to Mikhail. He muttered to himself as he worked, He quickly asked for Flick's shirt and the boy responded immediately. Then Emilio placed it over Mikhail's wounds, muttering gently to him as he put pressure to stop the bleeding. Then he gestured to Flick to take over. The boy moved into his spot as Emilio took his own shirt off ripping it into three long strips of cloth.

Then telling Flick to move over he began to make a home made wrapping of the wound. He winced as he realized just how terrible of a time the doctors would have taking it off, but it was the only thing he could do right now that would actually save Mikhail's life. When he finished tying off the last one directly over the wounds, he heard a another siren. He'd forgotten about the one that he'd left on in his pocket. Turning it off he quickly realized that the cops were coming. He picked up Mikhail, placing him on his back and Flick did the same to his brother. They couldn't be caught here. Not even in the least. Emilio would probably be put in jail and the twins would get taken away. No. Not happening. No way. So they quickly fled the scene, ducking down deep into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

Silent. Silent they were for the next ten minutes. That was when Emilio had found an opening. And opening for them all to run. Slick had woken up about this time. So the only one being carried was Mikhail. Emilio immediately went back to the dojo, telling his master everything that had transpired. Quickly they called the hospital and an ambulance was rushed to the paper like building. But by then Emilio and the twins were long gone from the scene.

[maka albarn]

Anna Ivanov stood in the long hospital corridor, listening to the nurses talk.

White sunlight from broad windows reflected in watery patches on the floor.

Anna brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and nodded as the nurse spoke.

She seemed thin and frail as she stood there in the barren, silent hallway. Like a young tree stripped bare by a hail storm. Small wonder.

Anna's husband was away when she got the call. Sensei had dialed Mikhail's emergency contact just as the ambulance pulled away from the dojo. He drove to Anna's home, and took her to the hospital. Anna had kept it together. She hadn't even cried. Not until those quiet hours after the first flurry and whirr of movement, not until she sat watching Mikhail, her sobbing out of rhythm with the slow pulse of the monitor. She pressed one hand over her mouth, muffling her sobs. Maybe Mikhail could hear her. She didn't want him to hear her cry.

The next day, her husband had come, pale and haggard with dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his jaw. Some business trip had called him away from home just a few days before the stabbing: he walked in worn down with jet lag. Eyes over-bright.

Two days passed. On the evening of the second day, Mikhail woke. It was only for a moment, but his wandering gaze met his mothers', and she saw a look of relief and confusion in his eyes before they closed once more. Her husband returned to work. The small hospital room stifled him. The stress of waiting, the fear: it was too much. Work proved to be a welcome distraction. He started staying out late, only stopping by the hospital late at night and early in the morning. During the day Anna sat by Mikhail's bedside alone. Even so, she could hear an unwonted gentleness in her husbands' voice; he held her hand often, for the first time in a long time. For the first time since the funeral.

Now it was the fourth day. Her son woke more often, and for longer periods of time. Standing in the corridor, Anna listened to the nurses explain his condition. The doctors were pleased. Her son should recover fully, given time. When the nurses turned away, and the click-clack of their heels receded down the hall, Anna put her face in her hands. Sometimes, relief from pain is a sweet sensation, almost a pleasure in itself. Anna felt no pleasure: just relief, gratitude, exhaustion. Strange, that you could feel so overwhelmed and so empty all at once.

As she drew near to Mikhail's room, her expression changed suddenly. Someone stood outside the room, peering in. Who was this? A fear lurked in her mind - not rational, she knew it - that one of the gang members would come to finish what they started. Almost immediately, though, she began to relax. The nurses had mentioned visits from a "friend". Oh, she knew very well how few friends her son made. This must be the boy Sensei described to her. His star student. Short for his age. Snow-white hair. Hoodie. The young man her son saved. The young man who saved her son.

"Excuse me, are you Emilio di Angelos?"

Her voice was soft and full, with a faint accent like the hint of a melody. "I am Anna Ivanova," she said, using the Russian form of her name out of habit, "Mikhail's mother."

[✖STRIDE✖]

Four days. Four long and terrible days. Ever since the fight Emilio had been working his ass off. He started skipping school, taking care of the twins instead. Trying to keep them out of trouble and keep them out of the reach of the gang members. He made extra precautions and began teaching more Martial Arts to the two boys. He wanted them safe. He wanted them to live well outside of the gang. But he didn't know how he could do that. Then after "school" had ended he'd go to the Dojo and work his shift, avoiding the Sensei as much as humanly possible. He had a promise to keep to him, but he didn't want to have any difficult or heartwarming chats. After work he would head straight over to the hospital, and check on Mikhail's condition. He would speak briefly with the nurses, but most of the time he'd just have a peek in the room, for only a couple seconds.

In the timespan of four days, Emilio had ten hours of sleep the time length of each time of rest varying between two to four hours of sleep each night. During the rest of his waking hours he'd been out looking for his young friend Spade. The twins were kept in their personal hide out that Emilio had made for them. And were told not to leave for any reason and to keep all the doors locked. Emilio also didn't eat much. Not taking more then an apple or a stack of crackers for each meal just to satisfy a grumbling tummy.

Now, as he glanced into a crack between the door and the frame he couldn't help but feel utterly guilty. A book in hand he watched Mikhail sleep, a deep sadness filling his body. What had he done? Mikhail must hate him even more now. He should have told Mikhail to turn around and walk away. How could he have let this happen... again... He should have payed more attention. Should have done more to keep Mikhail out of harms way...

"Excuse me, are you Emilio di Angelos?"

Emilio jumped. He felt his heart nearly throw itself out of his chest. He backed into a rolling table that just happened to be sitting next to him, dropped his book and pushed the table away from him down the hall. Lucky he grabbed the edge of it and pulled it back into position. "Shit!" He said and then whirled around back to Mikhail's mother, his face beginning to glow red. "I-I mean... Sorry. I mean... I apologize. That was terrible. I mean stupid..." He looked around, kneeled down, and grabbed the book that had fallen from his fingers and began to pick it up. "Ah... Mrs... Mrs Ivanova, Look I... I know you probably hate me and don't want anything to do with me because of what happened to your son. But... but I'm willing to pay you back for the medical bill... ah... It might not be right away but... I can work for it or... or even pay you a portion of what I'm making each month. I'm used to paying debts... And I promise I'll do it. I... I know that what happened was my fault. I should have told him to leave. I should have protected him better or... or... SOMETHING! I should have done something and I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Then he glanced back at the book in his hand, a sealed envelope was slightly sticking out of it. With a shaking hand he held the book out to her. "This... This it for Mikhail. I don't know if he likes to read, but its a book about advanced martial arts by my favorite author." Then he pulled it back as if having second thoughts. "U-unless you don't want him doing anything more with martial arts then I understand... I just... I don't really know much about Mikhail and this is what we have in common. I didn't know what else could..."

He stopped and swallowed. His mouth was dry, and he had wasted any good speaking on that little speech he'd made. He was such a fool. How could anything make up for what had happened. It wasn't supposed to happen... He was supposed to be done with it all. But it seemed as though his father's mistake was going to continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. His embarrassment became a deep shame. "I-I'm very sorry... I'll leave now..."

[maka albarn]

The table rattled as it trundled down the hall a short distance before Emilio could grab it and pull it into place. Anna started forward; a simple reflex to stop the noisy table from rolling away. As soon as Emilio saw her, he cussed. Then his face burned like a red hot coal. Off-balance and ashamed, he fumbled for a book which he dropped with a thump onto the floor. "Ah... Mrs... Mrs. Ivanova. Look. I... I know you probably hate me and don't want anything to do with me because of what happened to your son. But... but I'm willing to pay you back for the medical bill... I should have protected im better or... or.. SOMETHING! I should have done something and I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you." Before Anna could reply, the white-haired boy offered the book with a trembling hand. "This.. this is for Mikhail. I dont' know if he likes to read, but it's a book about advanced martial arts by my favorite author. U-unless you don't want him doing anything more with marital arts than i understand... i just ... I-i'm very sorry... i'll leave now.."

"No. Wait." Anna's tone sounded gentle, but firm. Standing near the door, she kept her voice low, the beep of the heart rate monitor kept steady time. "I don't hate you Emilio. Neither, I think, will Mikhail. There is no need for you to give money. Not in open, or in secret. Payment is nothing in comparison to the life of our son. If it weren't for you..." A deep, deep sadness darkened her eyes and threatened to well over. For a moment she didn't speak. Just a brief moment.

She knew. Once, this boy was a member of the Wolves. Sensei hadn't told her the whole story, but he thought highly of the boy. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in the way he kept his voice from wavering. This must be the source of his guilt. But looking at Emilio, Anna felt gratitude.

"You didn't hurt Mikhail, Emilio. This was not your fault. Please, don't think that we are angry with you, or that we have pushed on you the blame. I, and my husband, wish to thank you for saving our sons' life. You don't understand the weight of what you have done." And, in her minds' eye, unasked for, an image of an ash-grey headstone flickered into view. Rows of mourners in black, backs turned. Blood red roses on a casket lid, beaded with rain. Wet earth and that haunted look in Mikhail's eyes as they laid his brother in the ground. Gently, she took Emilio's hand in both of her own. "Thank you."

Letting his hand fall, Anna took the book. "Mikhail is always reading. Thank you: I'm sure this is a good title." Smiling faintly, she continued, "As soon as he is up and about, he will be impatient to start training again. I will be happy to give him your book; it will occupy his mind until then."

[✖STRIDE✖]

Even as he turned he heard the woman speak. "No. Wait." Her voice made him jump, not as bad as before, but more out of anxiety to leave than anything. He really didn't want to be chewed out or the center of an angry mother bear. He stopped anyway and turned back to her, a rather nervous expression on his face. "I don't hate you Emilio. Neither, I think, will Mikhail. There is no need for you to give money. Not in open, or in secret. Payment is nothing in comparison to the life of our son. If it weren't for you..." Emilio started at the kindness in her voice. A deep confusion washing over him. It was completely obvious that he wasn't used to this. Not at all. "But Mikhail... He HATES me..." He said softly, nearly forgetting that he was right next to an open door where an injured Mikhail currently slept, and catching himself in time to not yell it out loud.

But before he could get any other answer about that out of her she continued, "You didn't hurt Mikhail, Emilio. This was not your fault. Please, don't think that we are angry with you, or that we have pushed on you the blame. I, and my husband, wish to thank you for saving our sons' life. You don't understand the weight of what you have done."

What...? No... What was happening? His jaw dropped and he stared at the woman. More than shocked, Emilio was absolutely stunned. His mind whirled and begged for something to say, but he couldn't speak, he couldn't even move. Why was she saying this? She was supposed to yell at him. She was supposed to agree with his "debt." Why was she saying such kind things? Mikhail almost died and it was all his fault. Even if the little punk did hate him. Emilio had never wanted him dead. Never. Suddenly his hand was within her's and he took a step back. Only a step, and he didn't pull away, but he wanted to. It was obvious in his tensed up posture that he didn't want to be there, and was absolutely terrified by what was happening. "Thank you..."

Emilio gasped. As Anna let go he didn't even realize that she'd grabbed to book until it was no longer in his own fingers. "Mikhail is always reading. Thank you: I'm sure this is a good title. As soon as he is up and about, he will be impatient to start training again. I will be happy to give him your book; it will occupy his mind until then." Originally this would be the part where Emilio jumped up and down because he got someone else to read the book that he'd read so many times. He loved that book. It was more than helpful within his training and keeping himself trained. He showed it to just about everyone. But the excitement and happiness that he would have felt was drowned by a crashing wave of shame and sadness. Without warning and without noticing tears began to slide down his cheeks, his sight completely blurred by the wave of salty tears.

He couldn't stop them. His mind and body wouldn't work. All he could do was stare at Anna in stunned silence, his face now stained from the tears. So many emotions... So many feelings gripped at his heart so tightly it physically hurt. His body suddenly felt week and he collapsed to his hands and knees, finally allowing himself to give into his need. He wept. Now sitting in a crouch with his hands coving his face. His body bounced with the rhythm of his breaths. Too much. This was too much for him to handle and it had been ten years since he'd allowed himself to cry like this. Even when Spade was stabbed he had to keep himself together, and when his parents died. It was always "no crying Emilio. Thats what makes you weak." That was what his father would tell him. He was "too old" to cry anymore. But he just couldn't stop himself this time. Why? Why was this time any different?

[maka albarn]

slowly, mikhail opened his eyes. something had pulled him out of a deep sleep, dark behind the eyes. overhead, he saw white. white ceiling. white lights in long tubes under patterned plastic covers. light glinted, caught in a thin, clear tube in the corner of his vision. closing his eyes again, mikhail breathed deep, the edges of an oxygen mask pressing against the bridge of his nose and around his face.

a voice floated through the room. mikhail couldn't quite make out the words at first, but they grew sharper and stopped slurring together once his mind began to clear. that voice. he knew it. emilio.

mikhail opened his eyes again and they were clear.

"... I.. I know you probably hate me and don't want anything to do with me because of what happened to your son... but im willing to pay you back for the medical bill.. ah.. it might not be right away but... i can work for it or... or even pay you a portion of what i'm making each month... i know that what happened was my fault. i should have told him to leave. i should have protected him better or... or.. SOMETHING! I should have done something and i'm so sorry. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

the last thing mikhail could remember was the excruciating pain of dagger's knee against his chest, thick fingers curled around his wrist. then the pressure was gone and emilio dragged dagger away. mikhail heard the sound of blows. everything bled together after that. flashing lights. sirens wailing. someone carried him away and he groaned from the pain of it. eventually, the whirl of lights and masked faces and needles faded into black. but this mikhail remembered without confusion. emilio had saved his life. there was no question: dagger would have killed him.

mikhail didn't want to be indebted to anybody, especially emilio. Yet here he lay, listening to the strain in emilio's voice and knowing that he owed his rival everything.

"I don't hate you Emilio. Neither, I think, will Mikhail..." "But Mikhail... He HATES me..."

All he could do was listen to his mother and Emilio talk. Conflicting emotions swirled in his mind like fog. So hard to think clearly. Hard to think at all. Briefly, his eyes squeezed shut, as if he was in pain. Mother: heaven knew how much she must have been suffering, so close to losing another son. That cold, cold guilt - always there under the surface - welled up inside Mikhail until he clenched his hands. He was sorry. So sorry to cause any more pain. Fighting to protect Emilio was the right thing to do. Yet a sick feeling settled over him and in his own mind he apologized, over and over, as she spoke.

And Emilio? The last thing Mikhail expected was to hear him break down like this. Mikhail had never seen this side of Emilio before: apologizing, full of remorse, bringing him a gift. Didn't Emilio hate him? Look down on him? For once, Mikhail understood his rivial's mind: that guilt in his voice sparked a faint feeling of empathy foreign to both of them.

Emilio began to sob.

Anna watched as the boy fell to his knees with tears streaming down his face. Her reaction came as naturally as if he were her own son, finally letting that pent-up pain out. Kneeling down, she wrapped her arms around him. Speaking quiet words of comfort.
And in his hospital bed, Mikhail cried without realizing it, listening to the consolation he craved and always pushed away.