UNSAID.


Quiet town. Netherlands. Ha, ha. Nether-lands. Okay, enough with the juvenile jokes—I wish she'd quit it with the fireballs, they're really annoying—

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Sor-ree! Just tryin' to see if I can help—"

The fireball evolves into something vaguely dragon-looking (holy shit, she can make shapes out of fire, now), and it chases me about twenty feet before it disappears…but not before grazing my face with its tongue of flame. What am I even supposed to call that? The Flame Lick of Death?

When I catch my breath, she's standing over me, the sun directly behind her head, casting a silhouette and a shadow across my crumpled, pained form. I sit up. She turns away. Most likely looking for witnesses. Gorgeous Asian women conjuring flames out of thin air? Not very beneficial to the Xiaolin cause. Or the supernatural side of life, in general.

"Fifth-degree burns, Kimmy," I rasp.

"Get over it."

"You think the hospitals around here have any medical kits—" She whirls on me, "—for public use?"

"You mean an ambulance?" I open my mouth. Kimiko sticks an open palm in my face, as if to demand that I speak to it, instead, "I don't care."

You don't care that I'm hurt? I might be Heylin at the moment, but we're not, like, mortal enemies. I daresay that this isn't very Xiaolin of you, sweetheart.

What the hell do I know about Xiaolin?

I guess I don't really need an ambulance, anyway, I mean, aren't those for dying people? Can't get rid of me that easy, babies.

However, I'm not the best at concealing my thoughts, and the scorn on my face is a little more evident than I meant it to be, and—yikes. Kimiko can look really cold when she wants to. More important things to worry about…elemental dragon…why do you always need me here to save you…well, she used to rant at me for a whole six minutes when we were younger, explaining to me in great detail why I was so annoying and how she was only helping me out of the kindness of her fiery heart.

Not so much of that, anymore. I suppose I'm turning out to be more and more of a lost cause than I ever seemed before. I can handle that—I expected it.

She used to be so nice, though…except for when she lost her temper. Hey, she was a kid. Now it's constant paranoia, keeping her guard up, all the time, and I get why: older you get, the less sunshine and rainbows the world is. But, it's me. Not-so-bright, semi-vile, pretty much harmless little me. Have I done something to make her distrust me, or, what? Besides running around in dark clothing and practicing evil cackles.

"Why the fuck do you keep following me for, anyway? Everywhere I go, you show up!" She whips her hair in frustration. I half-expect her fist to lash out at me, I think I'm staring too much. At least, she hasn't curled her lip and bared her teeth at me, yet. The sheer amount of disgust girls can muster up into one look. No wonder I have no luck with them. Maybe I should try guys.

Dear God, I just considered that.

"Shen-gong-wu!" I answer, throwing my hands up in the air, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it is! Why else could she be here? She could just have been traveling for joy, I reasoned, but that's good enough reason, too, a pretty lady touring the world all alone, she might know karate, but muggers have chloroform. I have a spike of common sense for once, and don't mention my fear for her safety. She'd call bullshit.

"That's a bullshit reason," she spits, and, well, fuck. Huh, when did she get such a husky Angelina Jolie voice? I haven't really been paying attention to mine, didn't figure there was much reason, I don't plan of marrying at any point in my life, anyway. Don't wanna pass on my parents' inheritable stupid to whoever my poor kids would be. I wonder what Kimiko thinks when she looks at me? Probably something involving the word, 'raggedy.' "There hasn't been a wu for months!"

She's caught me there. "There's a ton of reasons why I keep following you around!"

"Like?"

"If not the wu, then…I don't really have anyone else to…" I trail off there. It's true, and it bothers me occasionally, but she's not buying it, or just doesn't want to hear it. "Uh…"

I got nothing.

Her lips purse and her head tilts in that horrible, wrathful feminine way that scares the living shit outta me, and I know she's either gonna start screaming at me, laughing at me, or walk away without a word…which is usually the most cutting insult out of all the things she could do.

Instead, her fists clench. I know what that means. This is the last straw for her, and she has no qualms making it known.


Kimiko marches up to the three of them, Rai, Clay, and Omi, having brunch outside the temple. "Spicer's in the infirmary. Just wanted to let you know."

Raimundo is quickest to gather his wits, "Whoa, you flamed him? Wish I could've been there—"

"No, you don't!" She snaps immediately, and he shuts up. "I hurt him, Rai. I really hurt him. Hell, fuck. Twice."

She looks really upset—and he says nothing else, he understands the feeling of guilt, of hurting somebody and regretting it, and thinks, no, knows, that that's the only reason Jack Spicer is here, in the infirmary of the Xiaolin Temple. Out of the kindness of Tohomiko Kimiko's fiery, fiery heart, the heart he tries so hard to learn and memorize the pathways of. They are together, after all.

It has nothing to do with the way Jack hasn't changed at all throughout the years, despite obviously wanting to so bad it hurts him.

Jack is younger than her, anyway. Isn't he Omi's age? Well, Omi is more innocent by default, of course. What kind of twisted kid does someone have to be to get inducted into the Heylin side when they're thirteen…Raimundo gets queasy just thinking about it. Yeah, Spicer's had his nice moments. Don't all psychopaths try to blend in?

It's been how long, and he's still high on his Evil Genius crap? What a creep.

Some things—and people—are not worth the effort.

"Need any help?" Clay asks, because, well, he's Clay. He's a gentleman. He's also not an idiot, and doesn't press when she declines. Raimundo has half a mind to follow as she goes back indoors, but sometimes she just likes to be alone, doing things herself (they're too old for chores, now, with their own protégés to train. Master Fung is retired with the rest of the old, elderly monks).

There is nothing to worry about.


Except that there is.

"How the hell do you not know if—" Kimiko pulls at her hair.

Jack grips at the sheets underneath him, "I—I'm not a doctor! I'm sorry! Internal bleeding—I just figured it was aching like everything else—it looks like a bruise!"

"Bruises don't spread that way, you dumb shit!"

"I didn't know!"

"You didn't know! Of course, you didn't know! You never know anything!" Her cheeks are red and puffy, "You've never known anything! You shouldn't love me! You should never have met me! I killed you!"

"Love—what—fuck—! I…" The shock settles into him, and the stubborn haze that's always been between the two of them is broken, but the honesty comes too late.

"There's nothing I can do for you! You can't even move!"

He rests his head back onto the futon.

"Why did you have to piss me off?!"

He stares at the ceiling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Hey!" He sounds like a man. It doesn't matter to him, now, though only hours ago, he would've cheered, "Cursing isn't fucking lady-like, god damn it. Shut up!" He adds when her mouth quivers, "I'm talking now. Hell. I was wondering why I felt so cold. Oh fucking well. Listen. This is not your fault. No one wanted me anymore," he ignores her sharp intake, "I had no purpose, and I figure someplace like the Xiaolin Temple is the best funeral home you can get. So, deal with it, I'm dying. I'll be out of your hair, and everybody else's, too. You should be celebrating." She protests—"I want you to fucking celebrate! Or, I fucking swear, I will haunt you all from beyond the grave."

Not even magic can fix this.

By the time Raimundo enters the room to check on his oddly silent girlfriend and her irksome patient, Jack Spicer is lying very still. When he asks why, after a frozen minute of staring at that unmoving chest, Kimiko says that she wants to separate from him. Her declaration brings Raimundo Pedrosa back to reality like a bullet to the heart.

"What? Oh my God, is he dead—what, are you, talking, about?!"

She pulls her knees up to her chin. "I didn't say it. I didn't say I loved him back."

"Wh—"

"We need to celebrate."

"Kimiko, I love you, you're making no sense, please tell me what's wrong!" Raimundo flounders, "We…need to get him out of here…"

"I didn't SAY IT!"