Rock walked into his home late Friday afternoon and heard an all too familiar sound coming from the basement. "Oh boy," he said with a sigh as he pocketed his keys and opened the door to the dim basement. "Revy, are you okay?" he asked as he heard a resounding grunt and the sound of her fist making contact with the punching bag that hung from the ceiling. "Revy…" he started, but she just kept punching away. He stood, silently watching as she beat the crap out of the bag, grateful that she was taking her anger out on it instead of whoever pissed her off this time.

It culminated in Revy winding up and putting all of her weight behind her final blow, "FUCK!" she screamed, and Rock noticed for the first time that she was bleeding from her knuckles. "Fuck…fuck…fuck."

"Revy," Rock said as he calmly approached the woman, "what's wrong?" He placed a hand on the raging woman's shoulder and was immedietly met with a fist to his jaw. He fell to the floor and reached up to the spot she had hit him. He pulled his hand away and noticed blood, but he couldn't tell if it was his or Revy's. Pushing aside the pain, he stood up and re-approached the now panting woman, "Revy, what happened?"

"I can't fucking take it, Rock. They all look at me like I'm just some piece of shit. All those spoiled brats and their fucking parents. They're all the same. They see me serving ice cream while they drive up in their fucking Bentleys and they can't help but laugh," she ripped off her shredded and bloody workout gloves and threw them across the room where they hit the wall with a light squish. "They're so full of themselves, and they think I can't see it. But I swear, every time they walk into that place I just want to put a bullet into their heads."

Rock walked her over to the bench and sat her down. He walked over to the small table to grab her towel when he noticed her Cutlasses on the table. "Revy," he said as he walked back to her, "why are those out?"

"I had to, Rock," she said, her eyes twitching, "Rock, I can't live this life. I can't go to work like you in that fucking white shirt and act like it's my life."

Rock sat down next to her and took her right hand and gingerly started wiping away the blood. "Revy, I can't imagine what you feel. But I know it must be hard." He let her hand go and grabbed her left one, for once thankful she wasn't wearing the ring, lest she end up with a broken finger. "But we have to adapt." He finished wiping the blood and wrapped the towel into a ball and dropped it to the floor.

"Face it, Rock. I can't. I'm not like you. I never had the chance to grow up normal. I spent my entire life on the streets, and that's all I know."

"Then you'll just have to start over."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked. But as she turned to look at him, she noticed that the look in his eyes wasn't that of his usual calm, thinking self. He had that same determinator stare that she had seen on so many occasions when she was in danger.

"If you never got to grow up normal, start now. Let this be the experience you never had."

For a moment Revy couldn't help but think it was possible, but quickly she closed her eyes and turned away, "Always the idealist, Rock. Fine," she stood up and started heading up the stairs, "why the hell not."

As she disappeared upstairs Rock could tell she wasn't being sincere. He knew that no matter what he said, she would always fear that her past would be lurking just around the corner, ready to strike out the first chance it gets.

Rock stood up and slung the towel around his shoulders—an action he immedietly regretted as he realized he had been using it to wipe up Revy's blood….which was now soaking through his clean white shirt. "Great," he said as he made his way up the stairs, turning out the light on his way out.

"So, Rock," Revy greeted him as he closed the door to the basement, "what's your plan?" she reached into the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. "How are you going to help make me a functioning member of society?"

Rock could sense the bitter sarcasm in her voice, but he continued nonetheless, "Well, tomorrow night there's this dinner party," Revy narrowed her eyes at Rock as she unscrewed the top to the bottle and took a sip, but Rock continued, "and, well, it's sort of a thing for the married couples."

"Rock…" she started calmly.

"Yes…Revy?" he said, knowing what was bound to happen after this familiar silence.

"What the fuck is this about?" she screamed as she threw the half-full bottle of water at his chest, spilling its contents down his front and winding him.

"Well," he coughed, "you see we were invited. And I can't just say no."

"Why not?" Revy whined. "It can't be that fucking important."

"Because it would be rude. Besides," Rock said, "this will be your chance to show my coworkers the kind of woman you really are," Revy just looked up at him, eyes narrowed, "Or…well, at least show them your good side?"

Revy sighed and walked past him saying, "Fine, fine, fine…Fuck," she said as she opened her bedroom door, "you and me playing the happy couple. It's like some cheap ass porno."

She closed the door behind her and Rock soon heard the sound of the shower running. He sighed a breath of relief and took a seat on the couch. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, "This has been one long fucking day."

xXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxxXXxxxxX

Revy stood in the shower, looking at her raw knuckles with an empty stare. She held them there, despite the stinging sensation from the hot water. She then threw her head back and allowed the water to run down her front. Content, she turned off the shower and grabbed her towel. She started drying herself off and stepped out of the shower when she caught sight of her reflection in the rapidly de-fogging mirror.

She wiped her hand across the smooth surface and looked at herself. Muscular, hard, and scarred…'hardly what a normal woman should look like,' she thought.

She stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes, just staring at herself, when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of one of Rock's white shirts slightly hanging out of the clothes hamper. She hesitated for a moment, then walked over and pulled it out. She held it carefully in her hands, as if in any moment it would fall to pieces in her grasp. She thought for a moment, then quickly locked the door—something she hardly ever did—and put the shirt on. She buttoned up the shirt and looked at herself in the too large shirt.

It was a strange sight. Her wild, deep-red hair against the business-like shirt just seemed so off. But, curious, she gripped her hair and held it up like a ponytail. For a moment she hardly recognized the woman in the mirror, but with a low growl she let her hair fall and undid the shirt, and she threw it angrily back into the hamper.

XxxxXXXXxxxXXXxxx

"I can't believe I'm fucking about to do this," Revy said from the passenger seat as Rock parked his car on the street outside Trish's house.

"Relax, it's just one dinner. You'll be fine," Rock turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

"But it's a Saturday night," Revy said as she opened her door and stepped out, as usual, not letting Rock do it for her. "Women get their first drink for free at the bar on Saturdays." Rock stared at her. It was a sight he felt he would never get used to: Revy was wearing a red and grey skirt with black leggings underneath. And on top she had on a black blouse, currently covered by her winter jacket.

Revy lit a cigarette then looked up at the house and her jaw dropped, "You have to be shitting me."

"What is it?" Rock said as he locked the car.

"This is her fucking house?"

"Yup." He said as he stood behind her, staring up at the monstrous house before them.

"You said both of these people are teachers. How the Fuck do a couple of teachers make enough money to afford this place?"

"Well, I'm not sure about her husband, but Trish was on Wall Street for a few years and apparently made a lot of money. From what I've heard, her husband is in the same boat."

"Huh." Revy said as she dropped the cigarette butt and stomped it out with her shoe. "But Rock," she said as she looked around at all of the similarly sized houses on the street, "you realize it was only a five minute drive to get here, right?"

"Welcome to New Jersey," he said as the two made their way to the door.

Rock rang the doorbell and, as if she had been waiting poised, ready to answer the door at a moments notice, Trish pulled the door open and greeted the two, "Oh my, come in before you catch a cold," Rock and Revy twitched a bit. It was all of fifty degrees Fahrenheit outside, hardly what either of them would consider cold.

"Hello Trish, this is my wife, Rebecca."

"Oh, it is so nice to meet you," Trish said as she embraced Revy, who stood there, unable to comprehend what was going on, "I'm Patricia Warner, my husband Patrick is just finishing up on dinner. Please, come to the kitchen." Trish led the way and Revy leaned in to Rock.

"So," she whispered, "they're Pat and Pat Warner?"

Rock just sighed as they stepped into the huge kitchen, where his co-workers John and Alice Parker and Debra and Chase Connors were waiting, drinks in hand. The only one's who hadn't arrived were Kerry White and her husband (whom Rock had not yet met).

After some brief introductions, Trish walked up to Rock and Revy and asked, "Would either of you like some wine?" She held out a bottle of wine and Revy felt her legs nearly buckle beneath her.

"No thank you," Rock said, and Revy just shook her head. As Trish walked away Rock turned to Revy with a surprised look and asked her, "Why did you refuse?"

"This can't be real," she whispered, "She's serving THAT at a fucking get together? That bottle has to be worth well over 200 dollars."

The doorbell rang, and Rock and Revy watched as Trish darted to the door. "That must be the Whites," Rock said.

"More teachers?"

"Only Kerry is. I haven't met her husband yet."
"Huh, what does he do?"

"I'm not sure," Rock said as he rubbed his chin, "I haven't really talked to her about it."

"Hello, everyone, sorry we're late," Rock and Revy turned around to see a woman standing in the door. "Oh, Rokuro, it's great to see you could bring your wife." She turned to Revy, "Hi, I'm Kerry White." She extended her hand.

"Rebecca," Revy said as she shook her hand.

"Oh, my dear. What happened to your hands?" She asked, noticing the bandages over Revy's hands. The others, not wanting to pry, had kept quiet.

"Oh," Revy laughed, "just a bit of a workout accident. Nothing too serious."
Rock was glad that Revy's blow hadn't left any marks on him for Kerry to pry at. The last thing he needed was for his co-workers to think that something was amiss at his home.

"So, Kerry," Rock said, "where's your husband? I've been dying to meet him."

"Oh, he's coming. He's just making sure that he kept his equipment hidden."

"Equipment?" Revy asked.

"Well, you know," Kerry started, "he doesn't want to carry the badge or gun around when he's off duty, but he can't just leave them on top of the front seat." Revy's eyes widened.

Rock, sensing her unease, asked, "Um, Kerry, is he a police officer?"

"Police Chief, actually. Oh, you'll love him, Rokuro. But that reminds me, Rebecca, what is it that you do?"

"Well, uh…" Revy wasn't one to care about what others thought of her….or just plain thought in general, but for some reason, she found it hard to admit what she was doing for a living.

"She works at the local Haagan Daz," Trish said.

Revy felt rage boiling up inside her, but thankfully Kerry continued, "Really? Wow, I didn't know the job market was so rough these days. Well, if you would like, I can put in a good word for you at the local Bloomingdales. I know the store manager, and she is willing to hire anyone with a high school diploma, so there's no doubt she'd take you."

"Actually, Kerry," Revy said bitterly, but before she could continue, Rock cut her off.

"That would be great. Thank you," he finished, and Kerry just smiled and went to talk to the others.

"What the hell, Rock," Revy whispered to him.

"Look, the more about us that we can keep under wraps the better. You don't think they'll be suspicious about a college grad working as a teacher at a prestigious high school marrying a girl who never even went to high school?"

Revy just bit her tongue and let it slide, when suddenly the front door opened and a man in uniform stepped inside, "Hello, everyone, sorry to keep you waiting," he said as he walked into the chicken.

Rock could see Revy trembling, but it wasn't the normal anger that he was used to. This was something else, something he'd never seen from her before. "Hello," Rock introduced himself to the man, "I'm Rokuro Okajima, and this is my wife Rebecca," Rock pulled Revy in a bit closer, hoping to help her calm down a bit.

"Hey, I'm Lance White," the man responded as the two shook each other's hand, "Kerry's told me all about you." He turned to Revy, "But I haven't heard…hey, I recognize you," Revy grabbed Rock's hand and clenched tight enough to crack his fingers, "you work at the Haagan Daz across from the Starbucks. Man, it's great to see that for once I won't be the only non-teacher here." He then walked off to talk to the other guests.

"Revy are you okay?"

"Yeah, Rock, fine," she said, but Rock could hear a certain coldness in her tone.

"Okay, everyone," Trish said, "let's eat."

XX-X_-XXX-xX

They were seated around a square table; each couple facing another, and as fate would have it, Rock and Revy sat across from the Whites. Everyone was sharing a bit of conversation between bites of turkey, except for Revy, who couldn't keep her cold stare off of Lance.

"So, Rebecca," Lance said, "when did you two meet?"

Revy was confused as to why the man was addressing her, but when she turned to Rock she saw that he was conversing with Trish. She turned back to him and responded coldly, "About two years ago. I met him at a bar in New York."

"Oh really?" he said with a smile, "I used to work in New York, you know, back when I was just a rookie." He put down his fork and closed his eyes, entering a state of nostalgia, "that must have been almost thirty years ago. My how time flies." He opened up his eyes, "I gotta say though, being a police officer in the suburbs of New Jersey is a lot different than patrolling the streets of New York. A lot safer, you know. Here I don't have to worry so much about an eight year old with a Glock."

"I'd imagine not."

"You wouldn't believe the amount of kids I've had to arrest. Robbery, assault, possession—for both firearms and drugs. Even when I was there, I couldn't figure out how such kids could fall into such things."

"Well," Revy said as she lowered her fork and narrowed her eyes, "what do you expect to happen when most of their parents abandon them?"

"You seem like you know something about this?"

Revy just continued, "By the way you described it, I'd say you had some experience working near the 27th precinct, right?"

"Yeah, do you know the area?"

"Yeah," Revy said in a hollow tone, making sure she was speaking soft enough so as to not tear Rock away from his conversation, "very well."

"It's a shame. All those kids living on the street. If the government would just support more funding for the police, maybe they'd be able to crack down on it."

"Really," Revy could feel the edge of her mouth beginning to curve up, "that area is one of the most corrupt places in the country, and you think money will solve the problem?"

"Someone has to teach those kids that what they are doing is wrong." Instantly all other conversation stopped, and all eyes were on Revy and Lance, "The police are their only hope for living normal lives."

"Don't make me laugh. The police are part of the problem. Maybe you left before it got really bad, but I'm telling you, when I lived there, the police were about as far away from saviors as you could get." Revy stood up, "Hey, Miss," she said as she turned to Trish, "you have a bathroom."

Shocked, Trish pointed out the kitchen, "it's down that hall, last door on the left."

"Thanks." Shaking, Revy left the table and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm sorry about that," Rock said.

"No, that's okay," Lance said. "Say, did she really have a rough childhood?"

"Well," Rock said, "she doesn't like to talk about it too much. But I know it wasn't exactly pleasant. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing…it's nothing."

XXXxxxXXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXX

Rock pulled into the driveway late that night, and Revy still had the same gloomy look on her face as when they left the dinner. "Revy," he said, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said coldly as she stepped out of the car.

Rock knew she was lying, but knowing he wouldn't get anything out of her tonight, kept his mouth shut and unlocked the door.

"I'm going to bed, Rock. I'll see you in the morning." And with that she hurried to her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Rock sighed and took a seat on the couch that had been his bed for the past few months. "I guess some pains just don't go away," Rock said to himself, "But how long do I have before my past starts catching up with me?"

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXx

A tall, slender Japanese man stood at baggage claim, surveying the area until he saw a man holding a sign that said "Okajima" on it. "Tanaka-San," he turned and, in Japanese, addressed a middle-aged Japanese woman and her teenage son, "he's here." Okajima grabbed as many of the bags at his feet as he could, while Tanaka's son grabbed the rest, until the driver offered to take them out of his hand.

"Where to, sir," the driver asked Okajima as they finished packing the luggage into the trunk.

Okajima simply reached into his pocket and handed the man a slip of paper. The driver quickly read it and nodded, "Yes, sir," before closing the trunk. They all got into the car and sped away from the airport.

"Mother," the boy asked in Japanese, "what state is this again?" He wanted to get his first good look at the United States, but couldn't due to the heavily tinted windshields.

"It's New Jersey, Shirou," she said, as the driver pulled onto the highway and headed north.

Okajima sat across from the two, blankly staring at the tinted window.

XxXxXXxxxXXxxXXxXXxxxXXXX

There's Chapter 3. Looks like it's time for the story to get moving, hope you enjoy.

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