When Lovino arrived, he went straight to the front desk and told the receptionist, "I need Detective Beilschmidt." She looked up at him with bored blue eyes. Platinum blonde hair falling to her breast with a bow choking the collar of her shirt. She probably thought it was cute but Lovino didn't give a damn about a pretty face right now.

"Detective Beilschmidt went home," If looks could kill, that was the one this woman was giving him. "Do you have an immediate problem?" Lovino groaned, frustrated.

"Whatever, I need the other one then. Detective Fernández-Carriedo." She picked up a pen.

"What is your name?" She's a hard woman, he thought bitterly.

"Lovino Vargas." Her eyes seemed just a tinge less bored and murderous now, dropping the pen and standing up.

"I'll take you to his desk, but I can't promise he'll be in a good mood. Most of them aren't when they're about to leave work." She'd obviously had some problem with this in the past. But Lovino didn't care. This bastard was going to listen to him. When she moved from behind the desk, she beckoned him to follow her before leading him through the station. She stopped suddenly at a door, not even knocking before opening it.

"Detective," Called inside the room. "Lovino Vargas has requested you."

"What? As in he's here?" Lovino made his presence known by standing closer to the woman.

"Yes, I'm here, I need to talk to you," He said with a frown. The woman sighed and slipped past him, clearly disillusioned by him. "Some weird shit started happening and-" He began to rattle off what he had to say before the detective stood up.

"Close the door, we can talk about it privately," Lovino listened reluctantly, shutting the door behind him. He could see Fernández-Carriedo fumbling through his desk drawers, finding a pen and paper. What kind of detective had to search for a pen? A stupidly unprepared one. "Use Gilbert's seat, it's more comfortable." His gaze turned to the other desk in the room. The chair did look comfortable. He grabbed the arm of it and pulled it across to the detective's desk, sitting on it nervously wiping his hands on his pant legs.

"You're not going home yet are you?" The detective smiled. It was unsettling to Lovino, only because he found it impossible to smile under the circumstances. Not that he knew that. It felt like Lovino was suffering alone.

"No, I'm having a late night or two here for now. A lot to do," He sighed, holding out a hand expectantly. "Antonio," He said. Lovino just stared at his hand before Antonio dropped it. The disappointment in those emerald eyes almost making Lovino feel guilty about the soft rejection. "So… You came to talk to me about something?"

"Yeah, I… I think I remembered something?" He didn't intend for it to sound so much like a question. It made him seem confused. He was confused but he didn't think that made him look very credible, he had to be confident in his words. "I remembered that night."

"How much of it?" The tonal shift was rather jarring. That melodic voice turning almost accusatory – Aggressive. "Sorry, I'm just – This is really important. Keep going, I'll listen." He apologised.

"Right- I…" He tried to find where to start. Maybe it was the shock he'd gotten from Antonio's voice. "I was in pain but not like when I got out of there. It wasn't as bad but still… It was in the dark, outside… With the frogs."

"Where you were found?" Lovino nodded.

"I think so… Then I could hear someone – But I couldn't see them. It was a man though, it had to of been. He didn't say anything, but he did hush me," His lip twitched. "Then he strangled me for a long time."

"Strangled? With their hands?" Lovino nodded.

"It was like an explosion – I could feel it again. The pressure, it was just…" He tried to stop thinking about the pain. "It felt like such a long time."

"Can you estimate?" It felt like an odd question to ask. Almost irrelevant entirely. But there had to be some reason, right?

"I don't know-" He stopped himself from getting too defensive. He came here, not the other way around. "Five minutes at most. But then there was this sound that just stopped it… Like a beeping sound."

"A beeping?"

"Yeah. He stopped and hit me on the head with something and then I think… I think he stabbed me not too long after…" All he remembered was how he could feel this rush of pain before going numb, unable to stop thinking about the beeping. "What the fuck would make a sound like that?" He knew what it was. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"I don't… Something that beeps…" Antonio stopped his train of thought. "Hold on," He reached over to his telephone. Lovino half expected him to call someone, he got ready to just sit and listen to this idiot talk on the phone for however long. He put the phone down on the desk before pulling out a little black box, sliding it to Lovino. He watched for a few seconds, about a minute, before he heard a prolonged beeping. Lovino tensed up.

"A fucking pager," Lovino hissed. "Goddamn it, I know that sound." He was kicking himself now.

"You have one?" Antonio asked.

"No, of course not. Too expensive…" Lovino muttered. "I used to know a guy who had one. But he was…" He was scorned by the memory. "Well, you know, doctors, firemen, cops and drug-dealers. All the necessary professions." He said sarcastically, somehow it seemed like it went right over Antonio's head. There were a whole lot of things he could remember, his mistakes mostly. A bad time in his life before any of this.

"Do you know someone who could've done this?" Antonio prompted, taking the pager back and clipping it back to its rightful place. He could see the scribbled marks on the paper. Lovino swallowed, shaking his head. He'd never been close enough to people who might've disliked him, he'd gotten on people's bad side plenty times before with strangers and acquaintances but never enough to want him dead. "Have you had any problems with someone close to you in the past?" Yes. But that was a long time ago. He looked up at Antonio's expectant face.

"Maybe… But only if you don't write it down. I could get into trouble." Feeling the discomfort creeping upon him he felt his body shift in his seat an unusual amount.

"You won't get into trouble," Antonio promised, nonetheless, he put the pen and paper down. "Tell me about it."

"It's illegal." Antonio shook his head.

"Not right now, I'll let it pass." That was good, he guessed. Immunity for shit he did three years ago, he wished he had that at the time. Maybe then he could've gotten some help that wasn't his brother.

Lovino sighed. "I used to live with a guy before I began living alone. It was a bad time."

"How bad?"

"He beat the shit out of me – He thought I'd stolen from him," Lovino frowned. "I'd go to work, and he'd do his work. I never minded the living situation much until I started to get involved with it a little. I liked the money."

"What was his work?" The dumb look on Antonio's face seemed so genuine that it made Lovino want to bash his face into a wall. He couldn't believe he was even able to work his way up to becoming a detective.

"Who the fuck else owns a pager when they're broke?" Lovino deadpanned, he could see a knowing look on Antonio's face. "We wouldn't have been broke either had we not spent the shit the moment it fell into our hands. I'll give you an idea, I only had to stay there one more week of dealing before I had enough to just pack my shit and leave without even thinking about it. I wasn't even worried about money."

"Was this incident of violence more than one incident?" Lovino shrugged.

"I guess. I just lived with the guy; we were friends at one point. He liked to accuse me of all kinds of shit because I liked to borrow product to sell myself and maybe a bit of cash from him. But I always gave shit back, sometimes double," Lovino crossed his arms. "I wasn't a thief to my friends. But always with the accusations! I'm sure the neighbours thought we had some kind of boxing match every night."

"How long ago was this?"

"Three years ago, almost four," Lovino saw Antonio's face change into one of intrigue. "I moved out March of 1982, on the 24th. I only remember that because I had a pretty shitty birthday a week before. My brother, he…" The aftermath of his brother's actions had come back to bite him, stupidly going alone to pick up his things and causing another argument with his roommate. He didn't mind it so much though, he liked to see him with the bruises on his face instead for once. Maybe it was just in the Vargas nature to be volatile – Lovino didn't know Feliciano had it in him. "He did a number on him."

"Would you like to give me a name?" The detective prompted; he was almost forgetting that's what Antonio was. He was strangely familiar – Comfortable.

"Sadik Adnan…" Lovino raised an eyebrow. He saw Antonio picking up the pen again, breaking trust and comfort he'd felt just seconds before. It seemed all too easy for Lovino to lose trust. "I liked living with him for a while, in the beginning." He thought it would soften all that had come before that.

"Do you think he'd have any grudges?"

"What, no. Wait, you aren't interrogating me are you?" He asked suspicious of Antonio's intent. The conversation seemed to of pivoted.

"No, it's not that."

"Then what the hell is it? I haven't seen him in those three years but if he's still dealing then…" He didn't want to accidentally say something that could get both of them in trouble. "I don't know about him; it's been a long time."

"I'm not saying anything right now, but I've now heard that name multiple times…" He clicked the pen and set it down. "We went to that club you mentioned. They placed a Sadik Adnan there with you just before you left. Quite a familiar face there, and here as well. Do you remember that?"

"What? Why?" Lovino shook his head. "No, I told him that I wasn't going to be seeing him again. I wouldn't have let him near me. He got me into enough shit."

"But you did. At least in passing. Bartenders see a lot of things and one of them was that you were opening your mouth at least more than once before you left with him,"

"But I…" He couldn't remember.

"Do you think you would've walked away with him if you were under the influence?" He'd like to tell himself that he wouldn't. But he couldn't even trust himself.

"I don't know," He answered honestly. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" A sick feeling began to harbour in his stomach.

"I don't know." He reiterated. His hands were trembling, he pulled the sleeves of his brother's windbreak down to cover them.

"Hey, it's alright," Antonio pulled back. "Do you want anything to drink? It's pretty much just coffee, soda or water."

"I don't want anything," He didn't understand how he was so calm – There was even a lightness to his voice. "Are all of you people like this?" He asked.

"Like what?" Antonio seemed oblivious as ever. It made Lovino mutter a curse word under his breath.

"So easy to just go back to normal. I can't talk about this bullshit anymore – I feel sick," His memory flashed back to the television. "I saw all my blood on TV and I couldn't…" A sympathetic smile came across Antonio's face.

"You lived it, that's why… We go home just like anybody else and have to think about it like it's any other job. Even when it's hard," Antonio was a curious person to Lovino. Strangely comforting while also making him uncomfortable. Maybe it was that kind face of his. "Gilbert and I were awfully… Impressed to see how you got out of there." Lovino wasn't, at least not anymore. Maybe it was because of the pain it was beginning to bring him and the big question that haunted him, why him?

"If I could see, I would've given up. So lucky I couldn't see," Lovino said bitterly. "If you can't even tell what obstacles you're going to face you don't think about crossing them so much."

Antonio hummed in agreement, "It seemed to of worked for you."

"I guess you could look it that way…" Dumb luck was a better way to describe it. He sighed. "I just had to tell you about it. The dream or- Memory." He slipped.

"That's fine but I need to get this on record, could we visit you tomorrow so we could ask you a few questions about Sadik Adnan? Maybe ask your brother some questions as well since he was involved," He shifted, nervously sitting up straighter. "That is, if you have the time for that. I can see it taking a while to make a statement you're happy with."

"I'd rather come in here, if that's okay…" He thought of how he didn't want to chance his brother listening in on him while he was giving his side. Not that he expected him to be that nosey, but he couldn't be sure if he'd do that or not, that idiot was always full of surprises. Antonio nodded at the alternative but that didn't shake Lovino's reluctance. "But I'm not sure if I should at all."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know what I'd be doing. I don't want to fuck things up." Antonio raised an eyebrow.

"Is it because you're thinking more about his sake than yours?" Lovino frowned, angered.

"He's not a bad person – He never hurt anybody badly and if he did, he always had some kind of justification for it. If I thought he was stealing from me I'd probably try to fuck him up too." He could remember how pissed off his brother was that he was still living there, doing what he was doing. Quite the scary face he had too the way he'd confronted Sadik, even he looked like he was going to piss himself. He hated to admit that it helped, that maybe he really did need his brother.

"I have to say, you seem adamant about protecting someone who as you said beat the shit out of you." He crossed his arms, not wanting to confront that reality. Maybe it was because of how close they were once. Even if they were strong personalities, too strong to be of any use to the other's psyche, they had plenty of good times. He still wasn't convinced he would go as far as murder.

"Yeah, he did. But what I remember is strangling and stabbing and I have the reminders to prove it. Sadik wouldn't have done that – He's forceful but it's like switching a light on and off and he could usually get his point across quickly without permanent scars. Whatever that was… It went on so much longer."

"You haven't seen him in three years though," Antonio pointed out. "Do you think it could've escalated?"

"Maybe, I don't know, fuck. I don't know!" He groaned, shaking his head in denial. His eyes were being pricked with tears just out of the sheer frustration and confusion of it all. "If I talked to him that night then I can't say anything else about it. You'll have to ask him what the hell he's been doing the past three years. He could be a fuckin' saint now for all I know."

"I can assure you, he's not a saint yet."

"Well neither am I," Lovino said with disgust directed inwards. "You saw where I was last – Even my brother isn't as much as a degenerate as I've been." If Feliciano had heard that he couldn't tell if he'd be gloating over it for days or if he'd try to hug him or something, either way, Lovino would be seething.

"Doesn't mean you should've been attacked. None of us can be incorrupt..." It didn't serve to make him feel any better about his life and why it had been spared. It only served to point out just how hard it was to defend him. "Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not…" His stomach grumbled. He thought of how Feliciano and Kiku had probably finished their dinners by now while Lovino was still sitting with a virtually empty stomach. When he'd take his medication, it wasn't good to do so when that was the case. "Shit, fine." Antonio grinned.

"Great, we can have an extravagante dinner," He stood up, indicating he should follow. "We have cashews!"

"Uh, actually, can I just use your phone for a second to call my brother? I couldn't find a payphone out there." Antonio nodded.

"I'll get you something to eat and drink, go ahead." Lovino slid Gilbert's chair over to the telephone, watching Antonio leave, shutting the door behind him softly. He sighed as the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He was beginning to realise that he had to potential to change someone's life and he wasn't even sure it was the right thing to do. What would Sadik say about him revealing all that dirty laundry from three years ago? It was something they were both ashamed of.

"Hello?" He asked into the phone.

"Oh, thank God! Big brother!" Feliciano cheered. "I was waiting for you to call!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I couldn't find where the payphone was around here. I'm using the detective's phone."

"Does that mean you're coming home soon?" Lovino looked behind him, the door still shut.

"I don't know, I'm having something to eat with the detective here… I think that Sadik is a suspect. He asked about him. I have to come in tomorrow about it, I think they want you to come but I-I don't know what the fuck to do." The line went silent. For a second, he wondered if it was dead entirely before he heard a sigh.

"Just do what they ask and be honest. You have a tendency to bend the truth with that."

"It's my opinion, you didn't know him." He defended.

"You don't know him like I do," He mocked, thoroughly pissing Lovino off on the other end. Mostly because it did sound like that. "Lovino, please don't tell me you're going to say all that crap about how good he is. Good people aren't violent drug dealers." The unintentional dig at Lovino hit him personally, he was a violent drug dealer once upon a time. But he liked to assume the best of his brother, he was just oblivious to his words sometimes.

Lovino pinched his nose. "I'm not saying I liked what he did. I just don't know what he's like now, he could have gotten his shit together, he could be how he was before, I don't know that and they're connecting this shit to murders, plural. This is someone's life; people get arrested for shit by one person's word all the time, if I screw up, he could be executed or in prison for life."

"Whatever you say isn't going to get him jail time for this. They're probably just getting an idea of what he was like to you then whatever happens after that would be on Sadik. I somehow doubt they're going to be light on evidence when the crime is so serious, it wouldn't be your fault if he got the blame for it." A lump on his throat made it hard for him to speak. Thinking of the bartender's word that he saw Sadik and him walking off together. How he couldn't even remember what had happened after that – Wondering if that dark figure was him or not.

"I don't want it to be him," Lovino admitted. "But it looks bad." His voice cracked having to swallow just so he didn't make his distress so obvious. For this to of been someone he'd called a friend once was gut-wrenching and he was refusing to believe that there was any possibility of it being true. But he was right, it did look bad. Especially since he knew the places Sadik went, how much money you could get from those places, he had access to a lot of people. Too many names that Lovino could remember.

"Don't think about him," Feliciano told him sternly. "Think about yourself and what could've happened," It wasn't often that Feliciano was telling him to be selfish, that's essentially what he was doing but maybe it was just because of Lovino's blind loyalty. He didn't know what was right. "I'll come with you so that way we can both get this out of the way, yes?"

"Fuck," Lovino sighed as he felt tears welling in his eyes. "Sure… Sure. Look, I have to go... Bye." He didn't wait for a response before he put the phone down. For a good long while he just sat around, stressing over what he'd say, what he was going to do. It wasn't anything he could compare experiences with so it wasn't like he had any kind of framework for these things. But then the door opened after a while of listening to that annoying ticking on the wall, he could hear it open but he didn't want to turn around. Wiping his eyes quickly to avoid the embarrassment.

"Here," Antonio put a couple of bags and a water down. Cashews and potato chips. "It's not much but it should stem off starvation for now." He said with amusement.

"Thanks..." Lovino croaked, picking up the bottle of water first. He had to get this lump out his throat quickly, so he didn't admit he'd cried over someone who had been such a bastard to him. He reached into the left-hand pocket of the windbreaker after he'd had a sip, putting the coins on the desk. "For whatever vending machine robbed you."

"No, it's on me. Wasn't much," Lovino couldn't complain, he just took the money back silently. "Do you need anything else?" Antonio asked, opening his own bag of cashews.

"I, uh, I'm fine. Just have to go home soon." Antonio perked up.

"I could take you home, if you need it." Lovino shook his head, opening the potato chips.

"I drove here. Besides, I need my medication soon. My stomach hurts like a bitch." He was regretting not having someone come with him, then he wouldn't have to drive home himself.

"From surgery?" Lovino nodded. "Can I see?" A baffled look came across his face at the question.

"You're a freak." He told him.

"Hey, usually I don't get to see what they do afterwards. But you looked like you were in bad shape in the hospital. Just wondered," The curiosity to the macabre wasn't too out of line, Lovino was a little curious himself as to what the scars would look like too. But after he saw them, they only depressed him.

The staples in his head had given him a real bad haircut too – He was surprised his brother hadn't bullied him for it but that may be him projecting because there was no way in hell Feliciano would get away with the hairdo Lovino had right now. It was alright when he parted his hair a particular way, less obvious. He looked like he'd just been in a bad fight with some of the ugly yellow-green scattered around his face where the bruising had been worse and his eye was still a little red in the sclera from where it had haemorrhaged. Not that he'd noticed – None of that even hurt, especially when compared to what was going on with his surgery wounds. "I think you look good compared to that. I'd like to see how it happened." Lovino sighed when he added that. Better to get the curiosity out of him before it became too big a thing.

He took off the windbreaker, lifting up his shirt enough to see the small scar where the knife had gone. The appearance of the surgical scars minimal as the rest of the shirt covered most of it, "That bastard is what made me look like shit for so long."

"Huh, that is pretty small." Lovino agreed, it pissed him off that such a small wound could be so much trouble. He pulled his shirt down after he began to feel uncomfortable by the staring. Antonio almost seemed disappointed that he couldn't see more. Lovino was right, he really was a freak.

"But it was deep. I guess that's what they used to justify mangling me," It was kind of hard to imagine himself. Just thinking of what had been damaged inside him made him grateful nothing was too permanent, other than the outward scarring of course. "I'm lucky whoever did this obviously wasn't smart enough to make sure I was gone."

Antonio hummed but didn't say much else as he leaned back, popping another cashew in his mouth. There was certainly something to say about how quickly he'd lost interest in the subject. Lovino looked towards the wall at the ticking clock amongst the awkwardly long silence. He found himself trying to avoid those emerald eyes – They were staring much too long.

"It's late." Antonio looked back himself, seeing the time as well.

"Late it is," He commented. "Time for you to go, I'm guessing," Lovino nodded, already standing up and ready to go. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll tell Gilbert first thing in the morning."

Lovino grabbed his brother's jacket off the chair, throwing it over his arm before grabbing the potato chip bag and water bottle, he noticed how Antonio had already turned away, ignoring him like a fly on the wall, "Hey, asshole."

Surprisingly that made him turn around. Seeing those eyes made Lovino's mouth twitch into a frown, "Go home, go out, get drunk, just stop being such a gloomy bastard after smiling so goddamn much. Makes the rest of you seem fake."

"I've been told something similar. It has its purpose."

"What? The gloom or the smile?" His sarcasm seemed to go underappreciated in the silence. It was Lovino who looked away first. "I'll see you tomorrow." He relented.

"Lovino." Antonio called out. When Lovino turned back around he had an unopened packet of cashews thrown into his chest which he only caught barely.

"Thanks." He said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Because he really wanted some fucking cashews right now.