I can't really say much. I don't really know how this came about. As per usual, a lot of mistakes and things that don't make sense :). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade.

Full Summary: Scars. Imperfections of the skin. However, to Blair they're something quite different. They unlock the secrets of the past and add the final pieces to a puzzle. They share memories and create common ground, for the most uncommon people. For two bladers, their own scars bring them closer together.

P.S: 'Kicks' are street shoes :).

Scars

Her small, gentle hand touched the gruesome looking skin poking out from the bottom of his white singlet. The light pink skin and twisted flesh had caught her eye. Her eyes didn't look with shock, sadness or disbelief. They looked with… he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was as if she knew… understood almost. Well, she had one herself.

His eyes dropped to the scar as he gripped the bottom of his singlet. He pulled it up a little, giving her a small glance of only a minor portion of the scar. She pulled her hand away and looked along his back. She knew there was more. But how?

Suddenly the impulse came over him to take his shirt off. He froze, unsure what to do. She was interested. Deeply. Her eyes begged for him to continue. He went against what his head was telling him and pulled the white singlet over his head and dropped it to the floor beside him. He turned his back to her, revealing the grotesque, twisted skin that carved its way from his front hip, across his side and all the way up his back to his opposite shoulder.

There was no gasp, no movement.

"I don't remember when, how or who," he said faintly, silently thanking that he didn't. "But I can only guess," he finished, more surely this time. Boris. He breathed in and out, slowly and surely, and she watched as his back muscles flexed and stretched, compressing and expanding. She was so quiet.

Her Azure blue eyes looked at him. Her long platinum hair was curled and cascaded beautifully down her back. She wore little make up and was dressed down in a black singlet, tight blue jeans and a pair of white kicks. He watched her hand slowly reach towards his body. She looked at the scar again.

She touched it and a shiver made its way up his spine. He didn't flinch or move. He wasn't sure why. However, he didn't want to move away. The touch was nice, weirdly enough. No one had ever touched it before. She glided her finger tips from the bottom all the way to the top. Silently, he watched her gently follow the carving.

"I was there when you got it," she spoke suddenly, looking into his eyes. What?

She walked backwards to the couch, not taking her eyes off him. Gently, she folded one leg under the other and sat on the suede sofa. He stayed for a moment, trying to comprehend what she had said. His eyes dropped to the floor, confused. He then turned, forgetting about his shirt, and taking a seat on the brown sofa beside her.

His ruby eyes looked into her Azure ones. She swallowed. "You had beaten Dylan," she began, trying to recall the beginning of the memory. "You were both exceptionally young," she added before going on. "He had fallen in the battle and he shattered two bones in his wrist," she frowned, creating creases on her forehead. She then squinted for a moment. "He was crying and moaning… and," she raised her eyebrows in surprise, "something compelled you to help him up."

"Boris stomped over, grabbed your arm and pulled you off the boy. He let you go, and threw Dylan off the podium to the guards below." Her eyebrows raised again in surprise. "Somehow you grabbed your blade and loaded it in your launcher. When Boris turned around you were aiming straight for his face."

He smiled to himself. That sounded like him. Always sticking up for others and getting himself into situations where he would be the one suffering. Always.

"He warned you… and you did it," she smiled a little, changing her focus to the Russian, "He put his arm to his face, just in time though." She looked at him with a bigger smile. "He was bleeding all the way from the back of his hand to his elbow," she paused, "gave him some nerve damage too."

He smiled to himself again. Lucky it didn't all go to waste.

"Then he… did totally something unexpected." She changed her gaze again. She was now looking at the Indian rug on the floor. "He pulled out a knife," her tone suddenly melancholy. "He'd never gone this far before," she whispered faintly.

She swallowed, bringing herself back to reality. The images were now flashing before her eyes. "He grabbed you and threw you to the ground. He got on top of you…"

Kai shuddered. She paused, letting the sentence dissipate in the air. She took a breath in, noticing Kai's sudden movement. His contact with her was broken, signifying that he wasn't ready. It was a lot to take in, she knew. This thought threw her back into the memory. Her eyes slid out of focus. She collapsed into the back of the couch with dazed eyes. She was about to continue, even if he wasn't ready.

"He ripped off your shirt and carved his knife into you," she bit her lip, "All the way from your hip to your shoulder."

Silence.

The two of them sat there. Blair, looking into the distance and Kai, looking at her. He could see it was hurting her, bringing up all these memories, but he needed to know. Tala, Bryan and Spencer had only told him that he didn't turn up to training for a few days. When he did, he was heavily bandaged; soaking blood outlined the new scar.

She could see it happening, replaying again and again in her brain, and he had no memory of it. She could see the shiny blade making slashes in the young boy's skin. She could see the blood oozing down his back and creating a small pool around his knees. She could see the pain in the boys face. She could see his desperate attempts to keep the sound from flowing out of his mouth.

He couldn't see any of this, and he was thankful. He could only imagine. Imagine Boris digging a knife into the young Russians skin and watching blood seep from the wound. He held a child down, and cut through muscle to teach a child a lesson. His breath deepened, as he tried to keep it under control. His heart rate increased. His mind flew over imagines of his younger self dripping with blood. It was oozing down in his back, thick and crimson. Whilst Boris stood there, covered in blood and the same smirk on his freak show face.

He could imagine the laugh and stance. Those deep eyes evilly looking down upon him. He could imagine the way he thought he was proud of himself and that he had scarred the young child for life. That he could do it again and – a hand touched his arm.

"I'm sorry," she apologised, seeing the emotions stuck together like a puzzle on his face. His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, his eyes ruby eyes burning, confessing pain and his mouth open slightly conveying disbelief.

His train of thought was broken, which was a good thing. Who knows what would have happened with him just sitting there, brooding, boiling… waiting. He stopped himself this time.

However, there was one thing he had to know. Desperately.

"Did I cry?" He asked as all the emotions slid from his features. He now looked, accepting?

She looked at him and then smiled. "No."

He scoffed a little, a smile coming to his face. Even as a child, he wouldn't give Boris the satisfaction of him being able to control the dual haired blader. He felt… proud?

A comfortable silence grew over them, contently sitting next to each other. His eyes drifted, trying to find a place for this new piece of the puzzle that was his past. Her eyes stayed on him.

"It suits you," she said, all of a sudden, reaching for the scar again.

He smiled softly. He watched her hand touch it gently. He liked how she was so entranced by it. "Sorry," she apologised again, "I can't reach my own." His smile faded quickly as realisation flooded over him like a wave. She couldn't feel her own scar. She couldn't see her own scar. But, it was there.

Slowly, his hand reached out, touching her shoulder. She watched without judgement as he moved closer, and sent his hand down her back, under the soft fabric of her singlet. He felt the twisting knots and bubbles of the skin. He smiled, finding it funny that he also was engrossed by a simple scar a simple imperfection of one's skin.

She smiled too, closing her eyes. He tried to trace the scar, but his hand movements were restricted. Not to mention her lacy bra, by what he felt, was blocking the path. She moved, and he slid his hand back out of her shirt in courtesy.

She moved herself so her back was facing him now. He watched carefully as she pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the dark floorboards beside the couch. His eyes carefully studied the edges of sick scar in front of him. She pulled her platinum hair to one side, letting it droop over her left shoulder. She pulled down the back strap of her bra to reveal the scar.

Biovolt. In straight lined capital letters. He swallowed, tracing the scar carefully, as she had. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of touch on the scar. A forbidden area. Those who knew, never touched. It was nice to feel that part of her skin, no matter how much she wished it wasn't there.

"I don't even know how I got to that point," she spoke softly. "One minute, it was under control and the next it wasn't." He stopped tracing the scar, letting his hand rest of the suede fabric of the sofa.

"I was being a brat as usual, refusing to do tasks, refusing to fight," She shrugged. " He knew how vital I was to Biovolt. I was ranked within the top five, so I was apparently told."

"He always kept pushing, because he knew what I could do," She rolled her neck in a circle, some of the bones cracking in her neck.

He kept gazing at the scar. "He slapped me exceptionally hard one day, and for the first time, I retaliated. I spat at him," a frown developed on her face. He looked down, as if remembering. He knew how much Boris disliked respect.

"He grabbed my arm and dragged me through the double doors. He got on me like he had with you," she stopped, swallowing hard. He knew the tears were welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill. He wasn't sure how to react. Should he reach out for comfort? Should he leave her be?

She opened her mouth slightly. "He pulled out the same knife and carved that into my skin," she looked over her shoulder at the Russian, "through the fabric of my shirt."

She coughed, disguising the choke that was building in her throat. "He told me that I could never forget this place; that I was part of the corporation, bound to it. Showing disrespect towards Biovolt meant that I was showing disrespect to myself. He told me me that I would die before I forgot the Abbey."

Those words were sickening to hear. Boris had carved the corporations name into a child's back for showing disrespect. A feeling of guilt washed over him, knowing that he had started this somehow. If he hadn't of launched his blade at Boris, she would be scar free, and so would he. She wouldn't be experiencing the night terrors. She wouldn't be scarred for life. How could he not remember his experiences in the Abbey?

Suddenly, his hand touched her back. He frowned, not sure if it was the right thing to do, but he kept it there.

She smiled again, "He tossed me outside into the snow, with just those horrible black waisted pants and those slip shoes on." He was now gently caressing her back.

She swallowed, her features softening. "Then you came." He paused. She could feel his confusion. "You took me back inside the abbey and wrapped your scarf around my back. You took me to your bunk and kept me warm all night." She turned her gaze to him.

For some reason, Kai wished he had remembered things like this. Things that were evident that he was a good person, that he did have a heart, that he was loyal, that he did care. His hand was tracing her scar again, urgent for her to continue. She was one big part of his past. She was giving him major pieces to his puzzle.

"You took me back to my bunk in the morning, and told me to be careful. You said you were leaving." She stopped. "And you did."

She had unlocked a key part to his past. The history of his famous scar, when he left the Abbey and the history between the two. Was this really who he was when he was younger? He felt like he was somehow complete. He was the same person back then as he is now. He still had the same morals, he still cared and still acted the same. For the first time, he was proud of himself. He was proud that he had come out of the Abbey with such a personality. He wasn't brain washed. He was Kai. He was a whole person.

"I escaped a few weeks later," she smiled, seeing the one on his face.

She knew she had revealed a lot to him. Things that he couldn't remember. Things that confirmed that he was exactly how he was when he was younger. Which was true. He was exactly the same, now, just older and more intelligent. The realisation on his face was incredible to watch. His emotions were on the outside for once, revealing exactly what he felt on the inside.

He looked at her again. She was slightly a taken back. The realisation was still there. "Thank you," he said softly.

Silence grew again. The contentment of the two filled the room. They sat there, amazed at themselves. Things were now, finally, at the surface. Neither of them had any secrets now. Well, maybe just one.

"Where did you go?" He questioned suddenly, looking up at her again.

She turned back around to face the Russian, she too forgetting that they were both shirtless. "I… went back to Australia," she seemed to have trouble remembering. "I don't remember how I got there, but I did," she spoke softly. Thinking about it, she was amazed she got back to her home country at such a young age by herself.

"I went into an orphanage and was luckily enough to be adopted," she grinned this time. After all this, she realised how lucky she was. How lucky they were. So did Kai.

The Russian didn't realise how close they were either, or that they still had their shirts off for that matter. Ruby eyes met Azure ones. Soon they opposite shades were closed, and a pair of pale pink lips met.

He just kissed her. He had skipped the part of thinking before acting, even the thought for that matter. Impulse. This is where it led him. A tongue pushed through lips, and the kiss was deepened. His hand touched her waist, and something began. Her hand ran through his thick, dual coloured tresses. She leaned back and he leaned forward.

His mind was blank. He was in the moment and he just couldn't stop himself. She was laying on the couch now, the Russian on top. His toned forearms were placed either side of her head, stopping his upper body from crushing hers.

One hand caressed his cheek, whilst the other graced his chest. His strong hand softly brushed her cheek before sliding up the side of her face and entangling itself in her long locks.

"Kai!"

Both eyes widened in horror. Their lips parted quickly. Kai was off the couch and floundering for his singlet. Blair reached for hers in haste and quickly pulled it over her head. She looked toward the Russian, who was struggling to find which side was right.

She leaped towards him, grasping the tag that she had spotted. Quickly, she helped him pull his singlet over his head.

"What are you two doing?" Tala. He stood at the door frame, with one eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed over his chest.

"We were discussing moves," Kai commented coolly, his mask slowly fading back on. He didn't step away.

"Huh," He red head nodded, disapprovingly. He began his quick paced walk through the lounge and to the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Kai threw the question back, along with a glare.

The Russian grabbed the door frame. "Getting some vodka my friend," he grinned with a wink before raising his eyebrows and disappearing into the next room.

She looked at him, unsure of what to say or do. He looked at her, feeling a little flustered. She just helped him put his shirt on… they were shirtless… they kissed?

Her eyes slid out of focus and her gaze dropped to the floor. A piece of her platinum hair fell over her face. Two of her soft, pale fingers touched her pink lips. She looked up at him. A soft smile was playing on his lips. Her hand dropped from her face and reached for his hip, playing with that familiar piece of imperfect skin. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but he wasn't objecting.

"I should go," she whispered, looking to his Ruby eyes.

He nodded slowly, shifting the piece of hair that covered a part of her face with two fingers.

With one last smile, she let her hand slide from his skin. She turned, heading for the door frame and Tala had appeared from. She grabbed the frame and took one last look. He was still there, looking at her. She let her hair fall over her face and continued to the front door.

He heard the faint click of the front door shutting. Fuck. He ran a hand through his soft tresses and wondered into the kitchen. An expression of lost was evident on his features. His Ruby eyes were out of focus, lost deep in his thoughts. What was that? He didn't know, but he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

There was a cough. The Phoenix looked up. It was the wolf. A smug expression crossed his face, as he leaned against the bench with one hand. The other hand catered a glass of vodka and something.

"All I'm going to say is, Holy fuck Kai," The Red head grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

The dual haired teen didn't say anything, or even change his expression. He continued his walk through the kitchen and into the hall.