Rising dragon, crouching genius

Chapter Eight – Monsoon Memories

By- Shiva's Avatar


WARNING – Effective this chapter, this fic has been moved up to a MA rating. This mostly comes from a scene during Raimundo's flashback. If boy/boy physical relations bother you, I would advise you to read that section with care.

Thank you

-Management (AKA, Shiva's Avatar)


Wuya couldn't feel it, but she knew the wind was blowing. Worse, it was a cold wind that ripped through the murky swamp and the girl frantically pulling herbs shuddered.

Wuya was used to being immaterial, so to again be ghostly didn't bother her. Like before, the time for being incorporeal would soon pass. All of this was, in fact, a good sign. It meant that she was dreaming … and one could only dream when one had a body to sleep with.

"My possession spell worked," the specter whispered.

"Will it work?!" the girl in front of her all but sobbed.

Wuya knew this place. Wuya knew this girl. Wuya knew how this story played out.

"Of all my memories … why this one?" the ghost wondered aloud, knowing she could do nothing to stop the unfolding events. Slowly she approached the girl, trying to remember.

She was dressed in tatters, course green fabric barely covering her body enough to escape indecency and far from heavy enough to shield her from the biting wind. Long red hair fell around her in a crazed wave, so unkempt that it obvious that the girl hadn't cared for it in a long, long time. Her arms, legs and torso were covered in scratches and scars; some dulled and years old, others frightening recent and still bleeding. Across her cheek three long scratches barely missed an emerald eye, looking as though they had just barely begun to scab.

"Where is it?! If I can just find it … I can … I just … By the four dragons where is it?!" the girl hissed, digging her hands deeper into a tangled mesh of thorns. Blood slide down her fingers, coated her palms, but with a look of grim determination she pressed on.

Wuya knew that voice. Knew that look. The look that conveyed determination and anger … but was really just a mask for desperation and fear. It was a true mark of an upper level apprentice at the Heylin Academy, as the academy beat out any traces of weakness in its students.

"And you're cold, because you need to use most of your magic to keep the poison they fed you in check. You're hungry because you've been living off of scraps for weeks, months, years … you don't even remember the last time you ate until stated, do you? You're tired from all the work they've had you do. Cleaning the summoning chambers, mixing the potions, practicing the same spells over and over and over again," There was no feeling in Wuya's tone and the only emotion she showed at the scene being a slight grimace and a clenched fist. "Not to mention the paranoia when you could sleep. Because how many others meet their ends while they dreamt? All of them dying of natural causes of course … a dagger to the neck, a spear to the chest, a lightning bolt to the face. All perfectly natural given the environment of the academy. The professors never even looking for those who would kill their peers."

"Damnit!" the girl screamed, pulling her hand from the thorns. "There's none here either!"

"Kill or be killed, that is the Heylin way. Those who would fight for darkness were those that were the strongest … the ones most worthy of life," Wuya calmly continued.

" Just a cirsium … by the earth dragon, just one. Then I'll have all the ingredients for the antidote," a few tears slipped from jade eyes that girl quickly attacked with a forearm.

"Still just a child," Wuya whispered, drawing her intangible dress closer around her as the wind picked up its fury. Even though she could feel nothing, she still remembered what happened next.

The sky growled and tiny drops of water started to slip through the dense foliage.

"Oh gods no," the girl whispered, dragging her hands through her hair.

"You'll accomplish nothing sitting there," Wuya said, her voice, her eyes, all devoid of any emotion.

Seconds slipped past.

"I'll accomplish nothing just sitting here," the girl hissed, suddenly angry with herself. Slowly she forced herself to her feet and began a slow trudge forward, looking for another nest of thorns where her elusive flower might be hiding. Steadily the few drops of rain multiplied, the girl greeting the tempest with nothing but a tightening of lips and an internal prayer to the dragons of wind, water, and earth that she might soon find her quarry and return home.

"How pitiful," Wuya whispered, seeing the signs that only a master witch could. The slight slump of the shoulders, a bodily reaction to hopelessness. Twitching fingers, that bespoke of helpless agitation. Bowed head and shimmering eyes that had nothing to do with rain, tell-tale signs of the worst emotion of them all, fear.

"Bit hard on yourself, aren't you?" chirped a merry voice that cut through the dismal air like a ray of sunlight through gloom.

Wuya turned around, her finger in place for numerous offensive incantations. This wasn't part of her memory.

And there he stood. Grandmaster Dashi himself, just as ghostly as she was.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Ah! Jack! Glad to see you could make our appointment,"

Jack hid a smile in response.

Dr. Raphael was always predictable, though that might just be one of his charms. From the glint in the psychologist's pale blue eyes though, he knew his newly acquired broken arm would soon 'subtly' enter their conversation.

Deciding to forestall the inevitable, Jack shrugged and pretended to take an interest in the beige walls. Dr. Raphael chuckled, tossed his long blond hair out of his face, and rested his chin in a hand.

Above the door the large twelve dollar clock ticked away the seconds, fast turning into minutes. Jack pretended to intently study one of several degrees hanging on the wall, subtly straining to read his therapist.

More seconds clicked away into minutes. Finally with a sigh and a rub of his temple, Dr Raphael spoke.

"Jack, please come and sit down. If you really didn't want to talk, you wouldn't have come. So just tell me what happened,"

Turning his head, Jack caught another pointed look at his cast. Biting a lip, the genius guilty blushed and walked across the room, taking a seat on the smaller of two pale green couches that ate up most of the small office.

"Here," Dr. Raphael said, offering Jack a pudding cup and a spoon, before settling on the couch across from him. A shy smile crept onto Jack's face as he stared at the floor, beginning to devour the treat he knew the therapist kept for him alone.

The clock diligently clicked away more minutes.

"So …?" Dr. Raphael asked, seeming unruffled by Jack's silence.

"So," Jack repeated back, putting the empty pudding container on the couch next to him and twirling the spoon around his agile fingers.

Dr. Raphael laughed.

"So, obviously you didn't just 'fall' like you told Grace," the therapist prompted, lowering his head and trying to throw Jack an encouraging smile.

"I did fall," Jack mumbled.

"Oh?" asked Dr. Raphael.

Trying to sneak a glance up, Jack got his eyes caught by the therapist's.

"Yeah," Jack said, shifting his head to look at the door.

"And how did you fall?" the doctor probed.

"I just did." Jack hissed caustically.

Flame colored eyes watched as the clock tick-tick-ticked away more seconds into minutes, feeling all too keenly the heavy silence in the room.

"It's a long story," Jack muttered, then sighed, and then watched the clock click away more seconds.

The teenager felt his lower incisor again caress the inside of his bottom lip. Why wouldn't he just drop it already? Sixty-three words in forty minutes … this had to be nightmarish for him too.

"Was it … " for a second Dr Raphael hesitated, which was enough to draw Jack's eyes back to him. "Was it Raimundo who hurt you?"

Ruby eyes flashed and Jack's entire face took on an ugly red sheen.

"Fuck no! Raimundo was never hurt me! I fucking told you before! We're friends!"

Dr. Raphael fiddled with his pen for a moment, then wrote something on his nearby notepad.

"Was it an accident? During your shen gong wu game?" the therapist asked mildly, tilting his head.

"NO! I told you before! It wasn't Rai!" Jack hissed.

"Rai?" Dr Raphael asked, hefting an eyebrow.

"I mean Raimundo!" Jack yelled, feeling his blush.

Dr. Raphael jotted something else on his notepad.

"He … you see … he just … he let's his friends call him that. Rai." Jack chocked out, staring at the floor in mute humiliation. Dr. Raphael was too smart. He'd given away too much and now his biggest secret was going to come out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid …

Dr. Raphael traced his lips with the back of his pen.

"So, if Rai didn't break your arm, who did?" the therapist asked lightly.

"Kimiko … kinda. But really it was mostly me," Jack whispered, closing his eyes to stop the threatening tears.

"How so?" asked the doctor kindly.

"We were going after a new Shen gong wu. Mushi's chain or something … it was really lame. When you use it, it points towards metal … which I guess might have been cool centuries ago but really isn't all that great compared to today's standards…" Jack said, ready to launch into a rant about how much more sense today's technology made when compared against the Xiaolin's magical toys.

A hefted eyebrow and a meaningful look from Dr. Raphael preemptively stopped said rant.

"It was a foot race on some mountain path. I should have used the golden tiger claws … but I forgot them at home, so I had to use the shroud of shadows instead. And Kimiko was using the third arm sash … and we were racing, and racing, and I used the shroud of shadows to turn invisible and I tripped her, ya know? Because she's faster then me and I didn't want to lose … not to a girl … again," Jack said, his tempo steadily increasing.

Dr. Raphael said nothing, but nodded for him to continue.

"So, yeah … I try … tried to trip her. And then I was running, and running, and I almost hit the finish line when she used the third arm sash and pulled me back. She just, you know, pulled me a little too hard and I tripped and almost feel off the cliff. So, I … I threw my weight the other way, because if I feel off, I'd lose, you know? And then … and then I just tripped. Feel down. Landed the wrong way. It was completely an accident. Completely my fault I broke my arm, you know?"

"I see," Dr. Raphael said, scribbling another note down. Jack felt his stomach churn, and looked at the clock. Three minutes left.

"Three minutes left," he muttered softly.

Dr. Raphael jotted something else down and nodded.

"Alright then Jack, just one more question …"

And Jack winced and waited for it. 'How could you lose to a girl?', 'Do you ever win this game?', 'How can you be so clumsy and pathetic all of the time?'…

" … loved him?" asked the doctor.

"What?!" Jack asked, his voice reaching screech level, as he must have heard that last part wrong.

"Raimundo, Jack. How long have you been in love with Raimundo?" Dr. Raphael asked in a completely neutral tone. Jack felt every muscle freeze; felt his blood temperature plummet until ice had to be pumping through his veins.

He coughed twice before he could choke out words, staring at beige carpeting. "I … heh … yeah … yeah … right … I don … I don't love Rai … Raimundo,"

The clock continued its duty diligently, ticking away seconds, Jack feeling his therapist's stare.

"Much," he confessed in a whisper, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

"It's always him," the doctor said softly, kindly. Jack looked up, feeling tears lurking at the corners of his eyes.

"He teased you again, didn't he? Said you were going to lose to a girl? That's why you tried so hard, wasn't it?" the therapist continued. Jack hiccupped and nodded.

"Why him?" Dr. Raphael asked.

Jack's lips froze, unable to vocalize why it had been Raimundo. Some reasons were obvious … such as the fact that the Brazilian was so hot you could practically roast marshmallows off of him. To simpler reasons … like the way he'd throw encouragement to everyone around him, even if it was somewhat disguised. Like during this last showdown … Sure Raimundo had been cheering for Kimiko, but all of the taunts had been aimed at him … pushing both of them to throw themselves completely into the game.

'Come on Spicer! You ganna get beat by a girl?"

The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he never excluded anyone. Ever. Everyone was a participant to his taunts and tricks.

'What's a'matter Jack? One too many pudding cups?'

The way he looked like when he won. Jack could lose a thousand shen gong wu if he got to lose them to Raimundo. It was like getting a front row seat to watch those emerald eyes of his shine. Hearing him holler and roar as he tossed his hair and reveled in his victory. The way he'd help Jack up (because Jack couldn't remember a shen gong wu battle where he hadn't been hurled to the ground at some point), and say 'better luck next time', his smirk promising another loss, but one well worth the game …

'Jackie vs Kimiko! This is ganna be a close one guys! Battle of the girls!'

"I … he … because …" Jack tried to force out.

Because he was everything I could ever want to be …

"Ah … our time's up. Shall we start there next time Jack?" Dr. Raphael asked, jotting one last note and standing. Deciding to slow their process some rather then risk Jack regressing. Dumbly Jack nodded and allowed himself to be escorted to the door.

"And no Jack. There's nothing wrong with you. Statistics say that at least one in a hundred … some studies report as high as five in a hundred … a few even suggest ten in a hundred people are homosexual." Dr. Raphael said kindly, mussing Jack's hair with a hand.

'He touched me … he knows I'm a queer … and he touched me …' Jack thought, turning mesmerized eyes on his therapist. So many years of quiet rejections, strained silence, of forced secrets … and … 'he still touched me'.

"I … bu … mom said …" Jack said, trying to rob himself of this moment. He didn't deserve respect, didn't deserve understanding. This was just the final nail in the coffin … uncontestable proof that he was fucked up and defective …

Dr. Raphael leaned down and pressed a finger to Jack's lips, shaking his head 'no'.

"And as I've said before. Your mother is very sick Jack. You're fine. You're a lot stronger then you think you are,"

And then Dr. Raphael gave him a dazzling smile, mussed his hair again, and walked him to the exit. Jack couldn't help but wish he was his dad.

"Now, I'll see you again in two weeks Jack?" the doctor asked in a no nonsense tone. Jack felt himself nod in the affirmative.

"Good. Now be good and take care of that arm! Try your best in your shen gong wu game … but not to the point where you hurt yourself!" Dr. Raphael chided. He patted Jack's head one final time, nodded once, then turned and returned to his office. Jack took a shaky step forward, watched the automatic doors part, and watched as lightning flashed across the sky.

But it didn't matter if it was raining. It didn't matter if his mom was still sick. It didn't matter if his dad was off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what.

For a brief second nothing mattered. Because for a brief second …

For a brief moment.

There wasn't anymore secrets.

There wasn't anymore lies.

And he wasn't … God, he WASN'T … defective.

Stepping out into the summer shower, feeling the rain soak his hair and trench coat, Jack just stood there, feeling tears leak out of his eyes.

'And someday … someday. I'm going to tell Raimundo how I feel …" Jack silently promised himself …

…because maybe Raimundo was one in a hundred. Five in a hundred. Ten in a hundred.

… Or maybe Raimundo just wouldn't care. He'd laugh and say they could be friends anyway … because …

…because Jack really wasn't defective.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Wuya was surprised how many emotions the bald monk's smiling face conjured. Rage. Anger. Sorrow. Hatred. Kindness. Fury. Pain.

"Bit hard on yourself, aren't you?" the monk asked again, tossing Wuya a smug grin.

"What are you doing here?" Wuya hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her hands still poised for a slew of deadly incantations.

"Same as you, just floating around," the monk said with a laugh, arms held out to show he had no intention to start a fight.

Nearby the girl had found another nest of thorns and shoved her already shredded hands into their mist, to continue her hunt for the final component to her antidote.

Wuya remembered. She hated this memory the most. She'd been too young, the lessons of the academy had not yet been strongly enough tattooed into her soul.

She'd only been sixteen.

So she'd been a fool. Done then, what she never would have done now. Perhaps doing so had saved her life … but it had cost her all her pride.

"Hey? What the heck are you doing lady?" A voice cut through the storm.

The girl's eyes widened and she withdrew her tattered hands from the thorns. Quickly she tried to focus, desperately trying to pin-point where that voice was coming from, feverishly hoping she had enough left in her for an enchantment strong enough to kill whatever further danger the four great dragons had thought to throw her way.

"This is your favorite part of the story … isn't it? Hero?" Wuya sneered at the ghostly Dashi.

"Yeah, it is" he whispered in reply, his voice so soft Wuya was left unsure if he'd actually mouthed the words, or if the wind itself had spoken for him.

A teenage boy appeared, the flesh and blood version of the ghost standing beside Wuya, holding his arms outstretched to show they held no weapons. The girl's eyes narrowed as she took in his robes, testament to his alliance with the Xiaolin, sworn enemy to all Heylin. With a few quick gestures and a lightning quick incantation, the girl threw a ball of green fire at her enemy. The energy ball tore through trees and foliage, and the girl smirked, knowing there was no way her enemy could have possibly evaded her attack.

Her spell hadn't come without a cost though. Expending more magical energy had weakened the precise enchantments she had wove to keep the poison in check. She felt it slip out of its magical prison and into her blood, burning her from the inside out. The girl screamed; as she burned from the inside and froze on the outside. If only she could find the flower! There was still a chance if she found it soon …

She took a weak step forward, and felt herself falling. Part of her dreaded the impact with the ground, sure it would only cause more pain … the other part hoped she blacked out from the fall. Slipped into an easy sleep from which she never had to awaken …

"It must have hurt," Dashi said sympathetically.

"Ha. If I'd known what lessons I was to face later, I would have counted myself lucky to have been given such an easy assignment," Wuya hissed in reply.

The girl fell, the world seeming to slide into slow motion. The trees began to blur, she began to see the rain in individual drops, the whole world seeming to spin faster and faster while the ground came at her at a snails pace. She closed her eyes and then …

and then he caught her.

Her eyes widened as she felt living arms wrap around her instead of the hard caress of stone. Her eyes whipping open, she struggled feebly when she saw she was suffocating in her enemies red robes. Desperately she tried to remember some enchantment, some incantation that would punish him for his insolence and mockery … would kill him, so she at least died with the contentment she hadn't died alone.

"Hey! Hey now! Come on Lady! No need to act like that!" the boy said with a laugh, his laughter infuriating the girl who struggled twice as hard against his iron grip.

"You always were a firecracker Wuya. Touch you once and you blew up into all kinds of angry sparks," Dashi said softly, something wistful in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold.

"You're lucky I was so weak, or you would have been the one all 'blown up'," Wuya sneered back, likewise unable to tear her eyes away from the unfolding drama.

"Come on. Come on. Just calm down … jeez! You're really uppity for someone who needs help!" the boy said, pushing the girl back enough that she could see his friendly grin. For a moment she stopped struggling, her eyes softening … and then …

"Arcra cara shu!" A thin finger traced a magical glyph, and the boy was thrown back as electricity surged through his body. The girl fell to the ground, the impact jarring her burning blood and intensifying her agony.

"Just do it Xiaolin fool! Just kill me! Quit your mockery and just do it! Kill me!" she screamed, struggling to rise, desperate to cast one last spell so that she could at least kill her enemy.

Nearby the boy stood and frowned, still feeling the tingle of her lightning touch.

"That spell really hurt," Dashi admitted with a soft smile.

"It should have killed you. A normal man's heart would have stopped," Wuya replied coolly.

"Lucky me that I was dragon of air, huh?" Dashi fired back, turning his head away from the scene to stare at his rival.

"Yes … lucky you," Wuya said softly, unable to look away.

"Geez! You act like that every time a guy tries to help you, and you're going to die alone as an old hag!" the boy said, smiling again. Glaring daggers, the girl tried to steady her herself, tried force her fingers to trace out the necessary runes for another spell. But she was too weak, and fell once again to the ground.

"What's the matter with you anyway? Heylin witches are supposed to be brutal, and it looks like you can't even stand …" he asked, leaning down, and gently lifting her up.

"What's it matter?! Just do your duty. Just kill me Xiaolin barbarian!" the girl screamed, rearing up to stare him straight in the face. His kind look surprised her.

"Seriously," the light tone disappeared from the boy's voice, his black eyes holding their own against her olive spheres "tell me what's wrong. Can't you see I'm just trying to help you?"

The girl tried to fire back a caustic reply, but vomited blood instead. She could do it … could cast one last spell and kill him, she knew she could. But it felt nice to be held. Felt nice to feel something other then anger. So rather then cast, she swallowed her words. Everything burned. Everything blurred. And she felt herself lose consciousness in her enemy's arms.

If she had died then, she would have died happy.

The boy stood there for a moment, just holding her. Then sighed and smiled.

"Well," the boy said with a smirk. "That was attractive,"

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Come on Raimundo! If you don't move it, it's going to rain before we get a chance to play!" Jason whined, giving his friend a motivational punch in the shoulder. Raimundo said nothing, just threw his friend his trademark smirk, finished trying his sneakers, stretched, and grabbed the nearby soccer ball.

The two had become best friends almost instantly since Jason had arrived in Rio. Jason's family had arrived from America a little over a year ago, arriving two days after Raimundo's fourteenth birthday. Raimundo had later joked that Jason was his favorite birthday present, seeing as the other boy was just as obsessed with soccer as he was and had at least a passing knowledge of what Capoeira was. In a heartbeat Raimundo had suddenly found himself a skilled rival in his favorite sport and a friend who shared an interest in his more obscure martial arts form.

At first language had proven problematic, as both boys knew only scraps of the others tongue. But they quickly worked out series of gestures and learned key words so that they could communicate important phrases (almost all of which were soccer related). Now, a year later, Raimundo was pretty much fluent in his best friend's language, and Jason was fast approaching mastery of the Portuguese tongue.

"Are you ready, now?!" Jason asked, awkwardly shoving some of his messy black hair out his eyes.

"Are you ready, now?" Raimundo mimicked back, standing and bouncing the ball off his knee.

"Asshole," Jason muttered, trying to grab the ball from his friend. Smirking, Raimundo let the ball drop to the ground and gave it a sharp kick, and immediately ran after it.

"Last one to the field is a rotten egg," Raimundo called over his shoulder.

"Jerk!" Jason yelled back, setting off after his friend.

Hitting the field the two immediately began a soccer game, Raimundo taking a savage delight in slipping his martial arts skills into his kicks whenever able. Not to be beaten that easily though, Jason stepped up his game, sending the ball flying from foot to knee to head to knee to foot … to goal.

A half hour later, the score was tied at one-one.

"Next goal wins it?" Jason called out, as the drizzle of rain that had started earlier began to pick up.

"Sure," Raimundo called back, lunging for the ball and sending it flying with a hard kick. Jason, not to be left out, blocked the ball with his chest and after side-stepping a charging Raimundo, kicked the ball towards his friend's goal.

Back flipping back, Raimundo used his foot to toss the ball into the air. Then, after tossing his friend a smirk, he sent the ball dancing, from foot to knee to head to knee to foot … to goal.

"Bastard!" Jason yelled, his smile ruining any facade of anger. "You stole my move! Bitch!"

"Hey! Your fault for being too slow," Raimundo smirked back, jogging over to pick up his ball.

The rain progressed from shower to storm, jagged lightning ripping through the sky overhead.

"My house or yours?" Jason asked, trying to slip some emphasis on 'my'.

"Mine's closer, dude," Raimundo called, nodding back towards the way they had come.

"Yeah, that works," Jason muttered.

"Race ya there?" Raimundo asked, emerald eyes shinning at the prospect of a challenge. Jason tilted his head, as though considering the proposition, then suddenly charged full speed in the direction of Raimundo's home. Raimundo stood for a second in shock, then grinning, took after his friend.

"Cheater," Raimundo puffed when they reached his porch, peeling off his t-shirt.

"You're just mad because you're still a weak runner," Jason grinned, slightly less winded then his friend. Pointedly adverting his eyes from the other boy's muscular build.

"Pfft. Whatever. There isn't a guy here who can beat me in a fair footrace," Raimundo stated proudly, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks. "Mom just mass cleaned the house dude. So lose anything muddy or that's ganna drip,"

Raimundo was already twirling the knob and entering the house, so he missed his best friend's cheeks flush to an uncomfortable red. For a moment Jason just fisted his hands and considered going home …

"You coming in or what?" Raimundo asked a few minutes later, twisting the door open and leaning against the door jamb, bottle of water in hand.

"I … uh … should … um … really … ya know? … head back home … and stuff," Jason mumbled, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. Raimundo tilted his head and looked confused.

"Why?" the Brazilian asked bluntly.

"I just have … stuff … to do," Jason said, staring down.

An uncomfortable moment passed.

"Dude. You can borrow a pair of my pants if your ganna be that bitchy about being wet," Raimundo said, tossing his friend a grin, thinking he'd figured out the source of the other boy's discomfort.

"Huh?" Jason responded warily. Raimundo sauntered out the door and roughly tugged one of Jason's belt loops. Jason felt his blush brighten slightly, but more keenly felt all his blood slip into the lower section of his anatomy.

"Jeans. We wear the same size remember? I'll lend you a pair. So, you won't be wet, you can stay over, and I can kick your butt at super smash bros," Raimundo said, grinning. Jason looked at his best friend, sapphire eyes locking with emerald irises.

'No,' Jason thought mentally. 'Mom needs me. I have to baby-sit Ryan. Me and dad were going to tackle cleaning the basement. Sorry Rai … but I can't stay'

"Sounds great," Jason heard himself say.

'Fuck' he cursed his mutinous mouth.

"Cool, meet you in my room then," Raimundo said, flashing another grin and disappearing inside.

Knowing this had to be one of the stupidest things he'd ever done, Jason sighed, pulled off his soaked t-shirt, kicked off his sneakers and socks, and slowly made his way inside. Twisting through the Pedrosa's home, Jason noticed the house was eerily quiet for a family of eleven.

"Why's everything so quiet?" he called, stealing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Dunno. Guess everyone went out … lucky us, huh?" Raimundo called back. "Means we won't have to share with Maureo and Mauricio,"

Jason cringed. Wonderful. Not only was he half-naked with his best friend/crush, he was alone with him too. This thought line was compounded tenfold when he walked to Raimundo's room, and saw his friend crawling on all fours through his pigsty of a room, clad only in a pair of plaid blue boxers. He watched as Raimundo shifted several pairs of shirts and boxers to uncover a pair of jeans; watched him sniff them, wince, and toss them back onto the floor.

"Hey," Raimundo said with an embarrassed chuckle, looking up from the floor when he noticed Jason standing in his doorway. "I'm having a little trouble finding clean pants … guess I haven't done laundry in a while,"

Jason felt his heart pound until he thought it would explode. Raimundo needed to stop, someone needed to come home. Jason tried to control his breathing and keep his thoughts platonic, unsure of how much longer his self-control could last.

Raimundo dug around the floor a little while longer, then frowning, shrugged his shoulders and gave up.

"Jas, I've got nothing. Sorry. You wanna just lose your pants and I'll throw them in the dryer? They shouldn't take that long to dry. It's just us, so there's nothing to be embarrassed about,"

Jason was sure there was a lot to be embarrassed about. He willed himself to say 'no'. Willed himself to say he had to leave.

"Yeah, that sounds fine" his treacherous body replied.

A moment passed.

"So, um … you going to give them to me or what?" Raimundo asked confused.

"Yeah … right … pants," Jason muttered, fiddling with the button while he felt blood fill his face. Seconds later he was handing soaked jeans to Raimundo.

"Jeez. Took you long enough. You're such a friggin' girl," Raimundo said, rolling his eyes and disappearing out the door and down the hallway.

Jason was tempted to fire some witty comment back, but his voice froze as all he could do was stare at his best friends boxer clad ass as it meandered down the hallway. Rubbing his palms on his own black underwear, Jason couldn't help but compare his present circumstances to a bad porno.

Mentally he kicked himself. If he started to think about porn, he was going to starting thinking of Raimundo. If he started thinking of Raimundo …

… well, without pants, there wouldn't really be much hiding the fact that he was thinking of Raimundo.

Sitting on Raimundo's bed, Jason closed his eyes and tried to think unsexy thoughts. His grandmother in lingerie. His Uncle Sammy with a beer gut and double chin singing country in his tightly whities.

"And now for today's local weather …" a monotone voice attempting cheer began. Opening his eyes Jason watched as Raimundo plugged his gamecube into the nearby television, hit a few buttons in quick succession that silenced the local weather and brought up the loading screen for their game.

"Dibs on Link!" Raimundo called, tossing a black controller at Jason and sitting down on the bed next to him.

"Whatever," Jason replied, trying not to stare.

A feat that became harder and harder as time went on.

"Dude! Are you even trying?!" Raimundo asked, glaring. "I just owned you as Jigglypuff. JIGGLYPUFF!"

"It's nothing," Jason fired back, pointedly refusing to look away from the screen. "Not everyone spends all their time playing this stupid game,"

"What?" Raimundo asked, eyes narrowing, thinking he'd just been insulted.

"It's just that some of us think about more then soccer, martial arts, and video games all the time!" Jason hissed.

"Dude. Why are you being so pissy with me?" Raimundo growled, starting to get angry.

"It's nothing. Just let it drop already," Jason said with a sigh, idly tapping buttons on his controller.

"Come on. We're friends. If something's bothering you, talk about it," Raimundo said, willing away his anger and giving Jason a friendly punch in the shoulder.

"It's noth …" Jason began, but stopped when Raimundo suddenly stood, clenched his hands on Jason's shoulders, and shoved his face so close to Jason's that it blurred a little.

"It's bugging you, ain't it? So it's got to be something. Alright?" Raimundo said, flashing his signature grin. "You'd do the same for me,"

And he was to close. To close physically. To close emotionally. Jason couldn't help it … didn't even realize what he did until it was too late.

Raimundo's eyes widened. His nails dug tiny crescent moons into his friend's shoulder blades. Without even thinking about it Raimundo jerked his head back, desperate to get away, desperate to pretend it never happened …

… because he just couldn't process his best friend kissing him.

Raimundo tried to pull away, only to have Jason's hands suddenly wrap around his wrists and tug him forward. His martial arts training was the only thing that kept him from falling straight into his friend's lap. It took all of his control not to break his friend's hold and punch him in the face … Raimundo couldn't think from all the emotions raging inside him.

Part of him wanted to hit Jason until the other boy was spitting blood and teeth. Another part wanted those lips back on his own, wanted those hands to hold onto his. Raimundo had never loved and hated a person so much all at the same time. Hadn't even thought it possible to feel so much that you couldn't even pick an emotion to act with.

"Wait … just wait … " Jason's voice was heavy, husky … dimly Raimundo wondered why he'd never noticed that before. "Let me just … explain. Ok?"

They both knew Raimundo was stronger. In the truest sense Raimundo was the deciding vote of how long this conversation lasted. Jason had tried all sorts of holds on his friend over the year they'd play wrestled … and had never been able to hold one for more then a minute. With a twist of his wrists Raimundo could leave. With one punch Raimundo could make sure Jason couldn't come after him. Facts both of them were all to keenly aware of.

"I just … its … you … see …" Raimundo couldn't look Jason in the face, so just watched the other boy's chest heave as he fumbled for words.

"It's just that I like you," Jason managed to choke out.

"Like me?" Raimundo asked hollowly, trying to keep control, trying to understand. Trying to make the butterflies in his stomach stop their sudden mass migration.

"You know. Like you … like … like a girl," Jason whimpered.

Immediately he regretted his choice in words as Raimundo's eyes flashed and his lips curled into an angry snarl. Jason's hands were suddenly holding air as Raimundo twisted free and stomped out of the room.

"Rai … God Rai … Rai … Rai just fucking listen to me!" Jason yelled, running after the other boy. Raimundo wasn't stopping though, and was heading for the door. Knowing he needed to try something desperate, Jason charged, tacking his Brazilian pal with all his strength. Both boys flew across the room, a mixture of flailing limbs, before slamming down onto the hardwood floors.

Jason moved quicker then a stunned Raimundo and pinned the other boy's wrists against the floor, settling his knees on the other boy's legs. He didn't really think for a second he could really keep his friend held, but right now he'd try anything to buy himself more time to fix this.

"Look … Rai. I'm not … not real good with words," Jason chocked out, forcing Raimundo to meet eyes. "I just … just …"

"What?! Want to fuck me like a girl?!" Raimundo yelled back, twisting his arms and arching his back. Jason barely kept his hold and knew if Raimundo buckled like that again he was in for a world of hurt.

"NO!" he screamed into the other boy's face, stunning Raimundo.

"No," Jason repeated again, softer, letting his head fall until his forehead rested against Raimundo's.

"I just … I just …" Jason closed his eyes and swallowed. "I just think I'm in love with my best friend,"

Not knowing what else to say Jason just lowered his head, opened his eyes, and slowly touched his lips to Raimundo's. A whisper of a touch, so soft they might not even have been there … but Raimundo felt them all too clearly. Knew they were begging permission for something their owner couldn't ask for in words.

And the butterflies in Raimundo's stomach went into overdrive. He'd always dreamed about kissing girls, touching girls. And even now he knew he still liked them … but this felt right too. Dimly his subconscious wondered if gender even mattered, wondered if people just feel in love with people.

Raimundo forced the butterflies down and pushed his head up, strengthening their connection of lips. Which brought a grin to Jason at the same time it awoke something primal in him. His lips smashed against Raimundo's in a sloppy embrace … his utter lack of finesse somewhat countered by the sheer amount of passion he applied. For a few minutes they fought for dominance with their mouths, tongues dancing out to join the fray.

Moments past and the boys enjoyed the messy euphoria of first love. Then Jason moved his head, applying pressure oral pressure against Raimundo's neck. Tiny hesitant love bites and awkward sucking ensued … and despite the complete absurdity of it, Raimundo could help but enjoy the sensations.

Jason knew he was already pushing his luck, but slowly he released Raimundo's right wrist and used his free hand to trace down Raimundo's arm. Moving his hand he touched everything he once thought forbidden fruit, caressing Raimundo's shoulders with a callused palm, fingertips sliding over a pointed tan nipple, groping abs and rubbing a flat stomach.

Raimundo's free hand curled as all he could do mew, Jason's mouth continuing its assault his neck, sometimes moving to nudge Raimundo's face with a cheek, so that both sides of his neck received equal attention. It all seemed so awkward … but it all felt so good.

Then Raimundo's entire body flinched and all sensation seemed to stop. Guilty Jason rubbed his thumb again under Raimundo's boxer's waistline, angling his face to give Raimundo a shy grin.

"Moving … too … fast?" Raimundo gasped/asked, suddenly noticing that somewhere during their make-out session Jason's knees had slipped to the floor and he felt the other boy's pride and joy rubbing against his leg.

"Do you … do you want me to stop?" Jason asked softly, his eyes pleading. As if to enhance his puppy eyes, he gave Raimundo's lower lip a gentle nip.

Raimundo felt his lips move, but couldn't seem to find the air to produce words. Something instinctive seemed to be taking him over … something primal and hungry all at the same time. Slowly he felt himself shake his head 'no'.

Jason's smile could have outshone the sun as his hand reached the final frontier. He closed his eyes as he used his fingers to trace the outline of the other boy's cock. Brushing his hand down the shaft to cradle the Brazilian's heavy balls.

"Jeez Rai … do you have to beat me at EVERYTHING?" Jason asked with a grin and a meaningful look down. Raimundo felt the light blush he'd been developing deepen, unable to make his brain formulate a response to that.

Any coherent thought he might have had was immediately pushed back as Jason's hand encircled his shaft and slowly began to rise and fall. Raimundo gasped and whimpered … it was the same game he'd played himself a thousand times before, only suddenly ten times more intense now that someone else was playing with the controller.

"Rai … I … I …" Jason whispered into his ear, his hand continuing its ministrations. "I lov …"

"Raimundo! We're back!" floated a female's sea-song voice from the doorway, paralyzing both boys. Conversation stopped. Movement stopped. For what seemed like an agonizingly eternity, even breathing stopped, as both boys silently prayed to any deity that might be watching that that voice wasn't real.

"Raimundo! We just came to pick up the cake your mother made. We're at your uncle Tiago's … and everyone's asking where you ar …" Raimundo's father, Nuno, lectured … his voice dying mid-speech as he and his wife Priscilia walked into the living room.

Almost as if the scene were a television show, time stopped, as if awaiting an audience's response. Long seconds past where the adults seemed stricken with the same disease as the adolescents, standing them in a state of complete paralysis. As if waiting for some invisible viewers to gasp, laugh, or intervene.

"Ummm … hi Mr. Pedrosa," Jason forced out weakly, after the awkward silence became to much for him, giving the older man an embarrassed smile.

And just like that time resumed, jumping into fast forward as if to make up for all the time it'd been held.

Priscilia screamed, manicured nails grabbing the cloth above her heart. Nuno charged, his short barrel-like frame moving with the speed of a charging bull. His face an ugly hue of red tinged with blue, as he grabbed Jason's mop of black hair with thick sausage like fingers. For a second Jason desperately tightened his grip on Raimundo's manhood, which drew out a pained whimper from the Brazilian. Growling, Nuno twisted his wrist and heaved with all his strength, savagely pulling Jason off his son, before pummeling Jason's face with a ring clad fist.

Everything happened too fast for Raimundo to process. His father's fist slammed against Jason's face over and over again, Jason desperately trying, and failing, to move his arms to try and block the blows. His mother's screams seemed to become one long deafening note; a loud wailing screech that prevented any rational thought. Part of his brain screamed for him to move, to do something, anything … but all Raimundo could do was sit frozen and watch.

Watched as that fist slammed again and again into Jason's face. Watched as golden rings became tinged with a thin coat of blood. Jason's blue eyes suddenly banished behind fast forming purple lids, a thin trail of red oozing from his mouth.

"Stop it! Stop it! You'll kill him! You'll kill him," dimly Raimundo noted that the words he should be saying were coming out of his mother's mouth, as she grabbed a hold of his father's arm and tried to hold back his fury. "He isn't worth it! He isn't worth it!"

Raimundo watched as his father threw Jason's head against the ground. Growled and cursed the 'stupid little fairy fag', before turning his hard green eyes on his son.

"Why the fuck did you let him do that to you?" his father growled, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Raimundo felt his tongue seared to the bottom of him mouth and could do nothing but stare at his blood spattered parent.

For some reason admitting that he'd enjoyed 'it' just seemed to be a terrible idea.

Fingers roughly grabbed Raimundo's chin and he could smell the feijoada on his father's breath. "Are you like him? You a fucking fag too?"

"Or course not!" Priscilia hissed, her eyes narrowed. "How could you even think that about your son! That boy … that thing, is obviously to blame here!"

"Say it then! Say you're not a faggot!" Nuno roared, vice-like fingers crushing Raimundo's face. The butterflies had all simultaneously combusted and Raimundo couldn't feel anything but empty ash inside of him.

"Say it! Say it!" Nuno commanded. Nearby Jason gurgled and struggled to breath.

"Na … not … not a … faggot," Raimundo somehow managed to force out through clenched teeth. Unsure of the validity of the statement.

His father's eyes narrowed, cold eyes warning Raimundo that his statement was hardly believed. But he released his son from his fingers though, settling to glare holes into eyes mirrors to his own. Raimundo heard his mother in the background, whispering something into the telephone.

"An ambulance is on its way," she said a moment later, purposely moving to cut off eye contact between father and son. "Raimundo honey. Go get dressed. Don't worry now … everything's going to be okay …"

And eventually … months later … everything seemed to be back to normal.

Nuno and Priscilia stopped treating him like he was some warped monstrosity and slowly, slowly, began to reaccept him into the family fold.

The rumors that traveled the length of Rio seemed to slowly subside, and Raimundo no longer found himself a complete social outcast among his peers.

Raimundo managed to stop having nightly nightmares about watching his father nearly beat his best friend to death.

Granted, this 'normal' meant that he never saw Jason again, as Jason's family suddenly decided it was an ideal time to return to America, failing to leave any forwarding address.

This 'normal' had Raimundo guiltily watching pretty boys walk down the beach the same way he stared when pretty girls past by him.

This 'normal' had him having dream sex with his former best friend every night he wasn't having nightmares about his father beating the shit out of him.

This 'normal' just meant smiling a lot more, even when he just wanted to break down and cry … because he couldn't shame his family again. He couldn't further embarrass them by admitting he might be different …

... so he just suppressed the entire event. It was simple experimentation. Unfulfilling experimentation. Wrong experimentation.

Jason had made him do it. Tricked him into thinking that any relationship with two boys could ever be ok.

And though he to say it hundreds of times before he began to believe it …

… he hadn't been in love with Jason.

… had never loved Jason.

… he didn't love Jason.

Because it was wrong …

… right?

XXXXXXXXXXX

The boy ran his fingers gently through the girl's long red hair. His Xiaolin duty was clear; he should have long since battled and killed the Heylin witch. But something inside the boy stopped him. The boy felt his very soul recoil at the idea of hurting some so obviously in need of aid.

"I wondered … " Dashi whispered to his spectral peer, "if maybe all the Heylin witches weren't evil. If maybe some of them were just trapped. Forced to study dark magics under penalty of torture and death if they refused. I wondered if maybe you were different … that maybe if I tried hard enough, I could save you,"

"How foolish. One would have thought your masters would have taught you better," Wuya sighed, fingers twisting around her dress.

"You were so beautiful And. even considering the spells you threw at me … so helpless," Dashi's voice gave for a moment. "You were the first person who ever really seemed to need me. Sure I'd helped peasants plant crops, found lost children, and fought back the local wildlife … but you seemed the first person who ever really needed ME,"

Wuya turned from the teenagers to her ghostly companion.

"And I … and that's … that's the moment I fell in love with you," Dashi confessed, his voice so faded that Wuya was again uncertain if he or his element spoke.

Wuya again felt a slew of emotions surge through her spectral frame, and decided to follow the most logical of them. She laughed.

Dashi's soft expression remained though and soon Wuya's laugh sounded forced.

"What new game is this monk?" Wuya suddenly sneered, all pretense at mirth dying.

"No game. The only game I ever played …" Dashi said, gesturing to the past versions of themselves. "was to try and save you from darkness,"

Fearing some trick Wuya refused to take her eyes of her old foe, mentally replaying his every word over and over.

"Phoenix Feather!" the young man murmured and Wuya felt the magic ooze from the Xiaolin artifact behind her.

Slowly she turned, her fingers digging into her palms.

The boy quickly tucked the ornate feather into a hidden robe pocket and watched with baited breath as its magic flowed through the wounded girl. Scars disappeared, bruises vanished, and scratches faded into nonexistence. Her heavy breathing become more regulated as the healing magic scoured poison from her blood and restored her to perfect health.

Her eyes fluttered and the boy couldn't hide his smile.

"By the great dragons …" the girl whispered groggily, leaning heavily on the monk.

"See what happens when you let someone help you?" the boy responded teasingly, giving her a grin that would have outshone the sun had it been shining.

"What? What happened?!" the girl shrieked, trying to push the monk away from her.

"I told you," the boy chided "I helped you,"

"You? You helped me?" the girl asked.

"Yup!" the boy replied, shooting her another smile.

"Why?" the girl asked, a hand suddenly shooting to her chest and clutching her rags. "What do you want as repayment?!"

"Nothing!" the boy sighed. "Can you really not believe I helped you just because you needed help?"

Her narrowed eyes and taunt lips answered his question.

"Jeez. Fine. How about this then? I'll go grab us some food, because you look like you're starving. We'll have dinner and I'll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it to believe it. That I just wanted to help you," the monk said with a grin. Slowly the girl nodded her accent and the boy helped lean her against a nearby tree.

Flashing her a final smile, the boy turned and ran into the maelstrom. The girl waited a few seconds before pulling a hidden amulet from her upper thigh, leery of a trick on the monk's part. So long as he was touching her, this amulet wouldn't work to return her the academy. No doubt he'd left just to circle back and see where she kept it, to prevent her from escaping him later.

Clutching the amulet in hand the girl hesitated before saying the trigger word. She had been dying … the monk could have easily killed her, raped her, or captured her. Yet he'd healed her. Left her alone while he 'went to get food'. Part of the girl wanted to wait and see what he planned, wanted to witness his obvious ulterior motives in person.

The other part of her. That calm, logical part of her that had kept her alive at the Heylin academy would have no of that. With a word she evoked the amulet's latent magic, and felt herself fading and fading … until she was only a breeze, flying back 'home'.

"When I came back I looked everywhere for you. I searched the swamp for three days looking," Dashi murmured, as he and Wuya stood alone in the raging storm. "I wouldn't find you for years though … when we meet in the Valley of Monrarobi,"

Wuya remembered. She remembered re-meeting Dashi years later … remembered their battles that had spanned across the decades. At first for artifacts left from ages long past … until eventually Wuya had struggled to strip the monk's seemingly limitless magical devices from him through the obscure rites of Xiaolin Showdowns.

She, the greatest sorceress who would ever live. Pitted against him, the most powerful monk the world would ever know.

"And at anytime I could have killed you Wuya. At the gates of Rissima. At the town of Kuryo. At Sisses. Even during our last battle the advantage was obviously mine," Dashi said softly.

"Idiot! Don't you remember Lazzera? Gromish? Awlllay? Is your memory so distorted that you don't even remember my victories?!" Wuya sneered.

"I couldn't win those battles without killing you," Dashi murmured. "Yes we fought … but I never wanted to hurt you. I had the Eagle Scope and the Fountain of Hui … remember? I knew how our battles would play out long before they actually happened,"

Wuya cringed. She'd always wondered why she perpetually seemed at a disadvantage when she fought the Xiaolin forces. Even her victories had always seemed more the act of luck then as a demonstration of her skills and power. She swallowed hard and felt her lips tighten.

"Then you were a fool. Victory was in your grasp and you refused to take it. You've only yourself to blame when I control the very cosmos," Wuya growled, wondering the power of the monk's toys … if he had stared through the eons themselves, and could foil her plans even now.

"Circe …" Dashi whispered. Wuya froze, it had been centuries since anyone had known her true name. A safeguard against the Xiaolin's legendary artifact, the "Black Book of Exedon".

But Dashi knew. How long had he known?

"Circe. I wrote my name in Exedon's book right after I captured you. Because I had to know. Why didn't I kill you?! I locked you away … but in time we both knew you would escape your bonds. Escape to a time when the Fountain of Hut and the Eagle Scope were no longer joined. To a time when I would no longer be there to thwart your plans. I had to know …"Dashi's fists clenched and Wuya was stunned to see that the monk did possess a purely serious side. "Why? Was it because I really thought one day you could be rehabilitated … that you could cast off your ties with darkness and prove to be a powerful ally to the agents of light? Or … or … did I lock you away because I couldn't kill you?"

The storm raged around them, almost as it the dragons of wind and water knew the unfolding scene and wished to provide their own accompaniment to it.

"It was the later, Circe," Dashi whispered. "The book revealed what I had always feared. I could only thwart you because of this. This memory that we share. The moment we just watched. The moment where I fell in love with you,"

"So what happens now Dashi?," Wuya hissed, her fingers subtlety moving to her sides.

"I beg you to give this up. Stay with me. Here. In this memory. Give up your stolen body and we'll live in this dream. You and me. It doesn't have to end this way … we can rewrite the story," Dashi pleaded.

Wuya nodded, as if in agreement, while taking baby steps away from the monk, widening the distance between them.

"Don't Wuya. Please. Don't do this," Dashi whispered, and for a second Wuya hesitated. Would it be so bad to stay her? To relive her life? To start over with someone who seemed to truly loved her?

Wuya's hands danced up, as the witch internally prayed she time enough for her spell. She'd made the mistake once to not kill this monk, she wouldn't do so again. What had he done last time she had let him survive?? He'd made a fool out of her for decades

The past was the past … the only thing that mattered was the future.

"Fool," she sneered, as her fingers rapidly traced glyphs in the air. "As if I'd sacrifice the world for something as insignificant as you,"

"I suppose I can understand that," Dashi said with a sad smile. "I can wait a little longer. Before I died I asked the Fountain of Hui one last question …"

Arcane words slipped out of Wuya's mouth the same way the sky bled tears. If she even heard the monk's words she didn't reply.

"Can I make her love me?"

Her spell neared completion.

"It said yes. But only if I waited."

Dashi felt the spell explode against him. Felt it banish him, trap him. With a smile he appreciated the irony of Wuya's enchantment. After all, he knew this spell all to well.

The last time it'd been cast, he'd sucked Wuya into a prison box with it.

Wuya watched her enemy's specter disappear. Closed her eyes and smoothed her dress.

"Goodbye fool monk," she whispered to the withered landscape.

Feeling a strange emptiness in her chest. Filling vaguely cheated her eternal rival hadn't put up more of a fight then that.


Author's Notes;

Let it be known, first and foremost. I hate … HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE … this chapter. Despite obsessive amounts of editing and rewriting, it still seems choppy and forced at places … and some of the new stylistic components just make my soul die a little inside (as I sit and here and go 'that doesn't seem right … but for the life of me I can't seem to make it better' not to mention how bloody LONG this chapter is /headdesk/)

That aside, on to the quick notes; author's notes;

1) You guys are incredibly loyal. I STILL occasionally get reviews on this thing … despite not updating since February. That being said, no matter how long it takes I'm going to truck on for you loyal readers and finish this fic … because those reviews might not seem like much, but they really mean a great deal to me.

2) This was supposed to be Raimundo and Dashi's chapter.

Raimundo finally gets some needed characterization (this is the answer to 'why' he's so resistant to his feelings. Not only was he pretty much shunned by everyone he knew for a year … he also got to see his father beat the crap out of the first person he had any real feelings for. Obviously those mental scars are going to be reoccurring. We've seen them in the past … IE-the way he and Clay fist fight about him 'liking' Jack –his reaction make more sense now? - And you can bet your sweet buttons his sexual insecurity will rear its head again). (Though – FYI – I really felt that section ended up being more Jason's story then Rai's … as an author I did try to prospective shift it … but it just didn't work when I tried to keep the focus solely on Raimundo … which annoyed me a great deal). As for as how physical things got between Jason and Raimundo … that was me trying some new writing components (and yes, I know, worst sex-esk scene EVER goes to me), as well as trying to underscore how fast everything unfolded (and that physical piece was vital. James was trying to show his love the only way he could think of … touch. A lot of touch. Which does kind of reflect on how a lot of the gay relationships I know in person started … because touch lead to sex, sex lead to attempted intimacy, and attempted intimacy lead to an attempted relationships). … Okay … and to be completely honest I totally wanted to slip in the line "Do you have to be better then me at everything" regarding Raimundo's nether regions (because I like to think I'm funny, even if the only person I ever entertain is me).

Dashi. Dashi came out softer then I might have liked. This was his chapter to finally come clean (and it allowed me the ability to address some plot points that I think the show overlooked. IE – if Dashi had wanted to, he could have killed Wuya numerous times by using some of the more broken Shen Gong Wu. So the question comes down to WHY he wouldn't. And all that being said I think it's an easy case to say he had a special spot for the girl. ALSO … this allowed me a believable way to take Dashi out the equation for later. So for all of you who thought that eventually Dashi was going to appear and be the Deus ex machine … yeah … no dice there).

3) I'm sure I said Dr. Raphael would never make an appearance and now suddenly he has his own little cameo. Yeah. Long story short? I felt Jack should get his own little dream sequence too (since all the other main characters were) … and it was the one scene where someone could conceivably be happy (because Jack's childhood angst has already been slightly explored). Though granted … there's a lot (A LOT) more Jack angst later …

4) If any of you remember chapter two (… and trust me, I'm not offended if you don't), you'll remember the name that the black book of Exedon gave for Jack's friends included a "Circe" but no "Wuya". My thoughts are that ancient forces of evil weren't ever stupid enough to use their own names – and yes, Chase's name was different there too.).

5) Just so everyone knows (think of it as a fun fact time) … Wuya was named after Circe from Greek myth (who was a witch who turned men into beasts on her islands where time moved differently then the rest of the world). Dr. Raphael was named after the archangel Raphael (the inside pun being, that archangel Raphael in Catholic lore resides over healing). Chase's new name was Nar Chess (similarly to Nacress? Root of Narcissist … /grins/)

6) And that's really all I've got (though I really wanna hear honest opinions about this chapter from you guys. Did I keep people in character and make believable past scenes? Or did I suck at points and should seek out a beta to keep a watchful eye on me… as well as kick my ass into gear to try and keep chapters coming out at a more reasonable pace?).

Anyway … after about a solid week of writing (and twenty-five pages of hell later) … I declare this chapter DONE!

So, until next time folks

-Shiva's Avatar-