Road Trip

by devra

In the words of Johnny Lawrence "I'm going to Mexico to find Miguel. Having one stupid kid's not enough, that other stupid kid got it in his head to find his dad. So, now I'm dragging my stupid kid to find the other stupid kid."

His reaction was one hundred percent in the wrong. Johnny shouldn't be experiencing such perverse pleasure from this situation. But he was. His son had come to him. Sought him out. Robby had even admitted he'd followed him. In the blink of an eye, suddenly the idea of losing the dojo was now compartmentalized to the back seat of Johnny's life, right along with karate vendettas. Dojos. LaRusso. Kreese. Silver. All of it. Johnny held in his arms the most important part of his life.

The part he'd believed he'd so irrevocably fucked up.

Seventeen years to arrive at this moment in time. Wasted years filled mostly with regret, a side order of anger and an extra helping of stupidity.

Johnny allowed his gaze to drift upward, offering silent thanks to whomever watched over him and his myriad of shortcomings and multiple faults, giving him one more damn opportunity to get this fatherhood shit right.

Okay, admittedly his heart was breaking over his son's anguished sobs, but he was the one person in Robby's life who had the ability to understand how poisonous Cobra Kai was. Had been. Right here, in this darkened dojo, Johnny made a vow that he would never, in his lifetime, speak the four words, 'I told you so' to Robby.

Patiently, he waited for Robby to make the first move, to break the hold.

Incrementally, Robby's death grip on Johnny's hoodie subsided, and he stepped back. Arms, which mere seconds ago had held Johnny in place, were now wrapped around his own body in self soothe. Something he probably was an expert in. Robby's gaze was trained on the floor and Johnny was unsure what the next step should be.

Johnny was confident the fact his son is still occupying the same space as him as a plus, a step in the right direction. In truth, Johnny was afraid to speak, to say the wrong thing. Food was good, a safe subject. "Hey," the word was soft, but enough to draw Robby's attention, "are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat? A burger?"

The answer was a lopsided smile with an apologetic shrug of one shoulder. "Can I," Robby stopped, cleared his throat, "take a rain check?"

Johnny hoped to God his disappointment wasn't evident.

But he failed, because Robby was backtracking, attempting to change the outcome of his words. "Breakfast tomorrow? I have to take care of a few things tonight—"

Relief. This Hallmark moment between them wasn't going to be a flash in the pan, apology today argue tomorrow type reaction. "Do you need a ride?"

"No," Robby pointed out the dojo's front window. "I have mom's car; she went on some type of retreat. Ten days," he hastily added.

Johnny wanted to call bullshit, but he'd hold off confrontation until tomorrow over breakfast. He forced a smile, hoped it was somewhat convincing, then reached out and gently squeezed Robby's shoulder. "Drive safely," he said.

Robby rolled his eyes, and he opened his mouth, then shut it, forcing himself to swallow whatever sentiment he was preparing to spew over Johnny.

Between the two of them, civil behavior was destined to be an uphill battle, hopefully without too many casualties.

"What time?" Robby asked, "for breakfast."

"Around nine? And if you get there earlier and I don't answer, the key—"

"Please don't say the key is under the mat."

Johnny appeared shocked. "I'm not that stupid. The key is under the flowerpot."

"Yeah, 'cause that makes a world of difference." Robby rewarded Johnny with a true dimple producing smile. "Tomorrow. Breakfast. Key under the flowerpot." Robby managed two steps towards the door, then turned around, "Thanks, Dad," he offered, before disappearing with the same tinkle of the bell that had announced his arrival.

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Robby entered the apartment he'd been living in the past few months, breathing deeply. His mother's presence, her candles, her perfume was dissipating. The echo of her voice and laughter already gone. Ten days of returning to an empty apartment and based on the past due notices spread on the kitchen table, Robby had about another six weeks before the eviction notice would appear on the door. Even less before electricity would be turned off. According to his inspection of the refrigerator and cabinets this morning, food would be running out long before he was once again homeless.

The bills hadn't been paid in over two months, even though, financially, that shouldn't have been an issue. Her salary. The child support she'd told him his dad was now coughing up. The money she'd flashed at him, after prom, the extravagance Silver presented her with, was gone. She was gone.

She'd never said goodbye, not in person. Not with a kiss to his forehead or a warning to behave himself. She'd left a note tucked under a magnet advertising the local pizzeria letting him know that she and her life coach were going to commune with nature in the state of Washington. There had been a heart at the bottom of the paper. A good luck at the tournament as an afterthought.

He was numb. And disappointed. Embarrassed at her failure, though he understood in some strange way, that falling back was easier than pushing forward. Truthfully, Robby had no idea if she'd fallen off the wagon. He hoped she hadn't. Prayed she hadn't, she deserved happiness, even if that meant leaving him alone, once again. He'd survived before, he'd survive again.

All his calls had gone to voice mail, the only reason he knew she was still alive were her selfies posted on social media. Smiling, happy pictures.

Now, as he wandered through the apartment, gathering up his toiletries and clothing, the one emotion he hadn't tapped into was his old friend, anger, shocked he was unable to garner up the energy to be angry at the situation.

Robby had confided in Tory, he had no one else. He would rather share the sidewalk with homeless Lynn than go back to sleeping in the dojo. Tory had offered him her couch and he hadn't been too proud to accept, but that had been before today and his decision to walk away from Cobra Kai.

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Johnny was stunned. Miguel had left, but Johnny was aware of the truth, his words had tipped the scales and the guilt of their last conversation sat heavy in his gut though he wasn't courageous enough to tell Carmen, he was the real reason Miguel had left for Mexico.

And he found himself uttering promises to Carmen, like he'd made promises to Robby earlier. Johnny the hero would fix it, whatever it was.

Regain Robby's footing in the world? Bring Miguel back from Mexico unscathed?

Promises he wasn't sure he had the ability to keep. To anyone.

Having breakfast with Robby in the morning would allow Miguel a head start on his journey. Leave now, offering Robby a rain check on breakfast, and Johnny knew there wouldn't be a reconciliation beyond their exchange in the empty dojo. Time would never heal that broken promise.

These boys, opposite ends of the spectrum with Johnny in the middle riddled with guilt.

Johnny took a deep breath, inhaling the sweetness of Carmen. He stepped back. "I will bring him home, safely," he repeated.

"When will you leave?"

He blurted the words out, hoping she wouldn't question. "Tomorrow. Late morning. Early afternoon."

There was a flash of disappointment, adding another layer of guilt until Johnny was beginning to feel smothered. Everyone wanting something from him.

To be a father.

To be a savior.

To have all the answers.

"Okay," she answered slowly.

He knew she wouldn't get why he wasn't jumping in the car and leaving right this minute and to make it worse, he offered her no explanation, just hugged her one more time before leaving.

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"Hey, Mrs. Payne," Robby said, offering a small smile to the attractive woman who'd answered the door. Robby knew Kenny's mother barely tolerated him.

"Kenny told me you lost today," she opened the door wider, an invitation.

Robby entered the house, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Hopefully, that was all Kenny had told his mother and not the horrific way Robby had won their match. Teasing and tormenting Kenny, kicking the shit out of him with a ferocity that even had the audience gasping. Hours later, off the mats, the shame was raw and bitter.

"Hey," Kenny said bounding up to them, smile bright.

Robby attempted to return the smile, but all he was able to see was the ugly mask Kenny had donned when he'd had threatened Anthony, or the one when Robby's fist had hovered over Hawk ready to take the match.

By osmosis Kenny had absorbed Robby's hate and anger and Robby had no idea how to fix what he'd done.

Mrs. Payne walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

"Look, I'm sorry about today—" Robby began.

"Pffft," Kenny said, punching him in the arm. "You were badass."

"You're okay, right?"

Kenny appeared taken back. "Why the heck you even asking me that question?" He narrowed his eyes. "You don't think I'm a pussy, do you?"

Robby wasn't going to even justify the question with an answer.

"This is about LaPusso, isn't it?" Kenny laughed, "Kid probably pissed—"

"Stop it," Robby said, harsher than he intended.

"Why?"

Robby closed his eyes, trying to find the balance he'd lost so many months ago. Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring at Kenny, who stared smugly back. "I'm leaving Cobra Kai."

"Leaving?" Kenny shook his head. "I never took you to be a coward. This is because you lost, isn't it?"

"No."

"Then why?" Kenny was confused, he stepped into Robby's personal space, as if examining a bug pinned to the wall.

Robby tried for the truth, repeating pretty much what he told his dad, but Kenny's reaction was volatile, shoving Robby. "What a load of bullshit. Admit that you lost and you're running away."

"Please, Kenny, listen to me. Have I ever lied to you?"

There was hesitation in Kenny's answer, Robby accepted his silence as Kenny contemplating what he'd told him, so Robby plowed on, "You need to leave. They're poisonous. What my father was saying and Mr. LaRusso, I thought their warnings were lies, but they're not—"

"You're. A. Pussy," Kenny said, poking him hard in the chest, accentuating each word. "Can't face Sensei Silver. Sensei Kreese. Afraid what they're going to do to you because you—"

Mrs. Payne appeared behind Kenny. "I think it's time for you to leave, Robby."

"Mrs. Payne, I've made a terrible mistake—"

She huffed, "If you met Shawn in juvie, Robby, I believe you made more than just one mistake." Mrs. Payne put an arm around Kenny, "I'm not going to ask you again, please leave."

She held the door for him, slamming it loudly the moment he was over the threshold.

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Robby had thought Tory would be out celebrating with the rest of Cobra Kai, so he'd been taken back when he'd sent her a text congratulating her on her new crowning status as Queen Cobra and she'd responded back with a cryptic "need you" which was why he was now lounging against his car outside her apartment complex, waiting.

He watched her approach, the working, dim lights in the courtyard illuminating Tory as she made her way to Robby. Her stride was far from her filled with confidence, head held high manner, and for that reason, Robby pushed himself off the car and went to meet her halfway.

Maybe they fit together so well because of their anger. While Tory wore her anger as a shield, Robby yielded his anger as a weapon. Now, there was only defeat in her posture, an emotion Tory never showed the world.

They stopped within inches of each other. "Hey," Robby said softly, running a thumb across the barest of bruises on her chin.

"Don't," she uttered, pushing his arm down, but her voice held no heat.

"Everything okay?" He dropped his hands to his side and studied her.

"Yeah."

It took a liar to know a liar. To spot their tell, but lying to Robby, was not akin to telling him to leave. No, Robby knew from experience that not sharing the truth was not the same thing as telling the person to fuck off and leave you be. That's what his father would do, punish Robby for not baring his soul by walking away, never affording him a second chance.

He was not his father.

"Hey," he reached over and tugged on her hand, pointing at the direction of her apartment with his chin. "Think Brandon would like to go get ice cream with us?"

Her smile was slow, offering Robby her soft underbelly of weakness, her brother.

"Or," he added, if you don't want to leave your mom, Brandon and I will get ice cream and bring it back." A statement, not a question, one she accepted with a quick kiss.

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Brandon was looking over the scrap of paper Tory had written her order on. "Ewwww-" he scrunched up his face in disgust. "How does anyone like mint chocolate chip. That's gross."

"You like bubble gum ice cream," Robby shuddered, "honestly kid, you Nichols have weird taste."

"I'll say," Brandon made a futile attempt at deadpanning, laughter winning the battle. "Not kidding, weird taste, my sister likes you."

Robby laughed; he'd walked right into that. "Good one, though I stand by my opinion that bubble gum ice cream still sucks."

"You probably like something like-"

"Vanilla."

Brandon burst out laughing. "How boring."

Robby shrugged, slowed down and stopped at the red light, "that's me, boring."

"Also, you drive really slowly," Brandon commented, drawing out the really, elongating the syllables.

Being a teen, behind the wheel of a car leased to your mom, who at this moment wasn't in the state of California, adding to that Robby was on probation until he turned eighteen equaled obeying the traffic laws. Not that he'd share that with Brandon.

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Robby handed Brandon the money. "I'm going to be waiting outside—"

Brandon's face fell in confusion.

Robby squeezed his shoulder. "Order for yourself. Your sister," he drew a deep breath, "and me." He pointed to the board with its overabundance of flavors. "Surprise me." He applied a touch more pressure. "No mint chocolate chip. No bubble gum."

Brandon's face lit up. "You trust me?"

"No," Robby admitted with a laugh, "but I don't want you to think I'm boring either."

Brandon pointed to the huge picture window. "No peeking."

"I'll wait in the car, is that okay?"

Brandon nodded, already studying the board of flavors.

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The bag was bigger than Robby expected, and he had to smile at the Cheshire grin Brandon was wearing. "I got you a scoop of mint chocolate chip and bubble gum," he laughed at his own joke.

"Am I going to regret my decision? Am I going to be forced to pull over and have you walk home?"

"Tory would never forgive you if you did that."

"If I told her got me the bubble gum flavor, she might agree with me."

Brandon glanced over his shoulder, to the back where Robby's skateboard was thrown haphazardly across the seat. "I'll skateboard home."

"You skateboard?"

"Tory won't let me."

"Won't let you?" Definitely, a conversation for another time.

"No one to teach me," he began to tick items off on his fingers. "No one to bring me to skate park. I need a skateboard and shin guards and a helmet."

"I'll talk to your sister."

"I've never seen you skateboard." He hung his head. "I've never seen you guys do karate either. Tory won't let me."

"Sorry, kid, but I must agree with Tory on that. Skateboarding, maybe at least you can come down and watch me at the skatepark."

"Wow, you'd let me do that?"

"Tory has to give permission first."

"I'll give her the puppy dog eyes like she says you do to her, I heard her talking to mom, saying she was a sucker for them."

"What?" Robby could feel of blush work its way up his neck, coloring his cheeks.

Brandon grimaced, "guess I wasn't supposed to share that, huh?"

Robby realized he'd never talked to Kenny, only at him. About fighting. About bullying. About bullies. About karate. Never about Shawn. Or his family. Or about Kenny himself. Robby hadn't been a mentor, he'd been just another bully hiding in plain sight.

Brandon reached out, shyly touching his arm, "you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You got really quiet, was it about the puppy dog eyes? I'm sorry, please don't share that with Tory, she'll be pissed."

Robby mocked shuddered. "God, no, would never think of saying that to your sister, I've seen her pissed, and it's not pretty—" Robby stopped, "please don't tell her I said that, okay?"

"I won't if you promise to drive a little bit faster, the ice cream is melting quicker than you're driving."

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Robby was sitting in the corner of the couch, feet on the coffee table, shoes off, they weren't heathens Tory had reprimanded him. She was tucked next to Robby, making obscene noises as she ate her ice cream. Driving Robby nuts and getting on Brandon's last nerve.

"It's ice cream, Tory, jeeze," Brandon said from the other end of the couch.

"Stop poking me with your monkey toes!" She flicked a finger at Brandon's bare foot.

"I'm watching this," Robby waved his spoon at the TV.

"Really?" Tory asked, seductively licking her spoon, leaning even closer to Robby's personal space. "What are you eating?"

"Ice cream," Robby answered, innocently.

"I know that you jerk, I mean the flavors. The top one looks like vanilla—"

"It's coconut," Brandon interrupted, "and the second flavor is chocolate peanut butter swirl, but there's like a half scoop of another flavor that the girl put in when I told her I was surprising Robby. It's pralines and cream. Though I have no idea what a praline is."

"A nut," Tory said as she dug into Robby's cup of ice cream and extracted a praline, popping it into her mouth before he could object.

"Ewww, Tory, sometimes you're disgusting. Isn't she Robby?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah, isn't she?" Tory echoed.

"I choose not to answer on the grounds it might incriminate me," Robby mixed his softening ice cream with the spoon, "or get me killed."

Tory stuck her spoon in Robby's ice cream.

"Germs?"

"Really, Keene?" She made a show of slowly licking her spoon. "Germs?"

"You two are gross," Brandon observed with a shudder, "and there are times I definitely like Robby more than you, Tory."

Tory offered her brother a half smile. "Hey, there are times I like Robby more than I like myself."

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Brandon had gone to sleep, and Robby was drifting. The day had been long, and the couch was damn comfortable, plus there were people in this apartment who maybe, sorta, for some strange reason liked him.

"You're smiling." Tory pulled on a strand of his hair.

Robby opened one eye and tugged her down against him.

She halfheartedly resisted. "Brandon's got superhuman hearing," she whispered into Robby's ear, "and a big mouth."

"Fine," he sighed, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Gently, Tory cupped his cheek. "Go to sleep."

He yawned. "Neverending day."

"I know," she agreed getting up, pulling the blanket folded on the back of the couch on top of him. "Tomorrow, remember, Sensei Kreese and Silver are holding a grand opening breakfast for the new dojo. Command performance for the team—"

Robby blinked at her. "Huh?"

"Didn't you get the invite? Black envelope, all formal and shit."

Yeah, if he thought about it, there was a black envelope somewhere among the Past Due letters on the table. "Got it, didn't open it though."

"You're incorrigible, Keene."

"That's why you like me a hell of a lot, right?" he teased, letting it drop when he got no response from her. "What time tomorrow?"

She walked into the kitchen, took the invite off the fridge, and brought a black square card with yellow writing, waving it in Robby's face.

Definitely, Silver's influence, Kreese would've scribbled the invite on the back of dinner napkin. "Ten sharp."

Robby was never going to be there. Well, he was, but not for any breakfast, but he didn't have the strength to go against Tory now. To tell her he was done with Cobra Kai. Tomorrow. There would be time tomorrow. After the shit hit the fan, because he knew, in true Cobra Kai fashion, they weren't going to just allow him to walk out the door without backlash.

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Robby silenced his phone, even before the alarm went off. He'd barely slept, anxiety. Anticipation. Sorrow. Sensei Kreese had been there when Robby needed him. Not in the best way, but he was a hope when Robby believed there was none. Displaced loyalty. Telling him, ending his relationship with Cobra Kai, felt like the ultimate betrayal to the old man. Silver? Was an overgrown bully, who Robby hated with a passion previously reserved only for his father.

He found the invitation, wrote a note to Tory on the back, overwriting the damn yellow printing, letting her know they needed to talk. Later.

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He hadn't expected to end up in his old apartment, but he wanted to clean up and change his clothes and he couldn't risk waking up Tory's household. Electric was still up and running. Water was hot. Robby was good to go for at least another hour.

The towels he used, he left hanging in the bathroom. He had a limited repertoire of clothing. Same jeans. Different shirt. Same socks. He sprang for clean underwear, then finger dried his hair.

He packed up what he'd used then dumped a previously packed cardboard box onto the table. This time, each outfit, each Cobra Kai gi was meticulously folded with the respect it deserved.

Robby checked his watch. Now or never.

He found the invitation on the table, tossed it atop the box, this time leaving this apartment for the very last time.

xxxxxxxxxx

Based on the invitation, Robby input the directions into the phone. Thirty-five-minute drive. Robby whistled. Talk about expensive neighborhood. Wonder how the rich people were going to feel about the karate war landing in their own backyard?

He was early, that was okay, he parked, watching the activity. The building, the new Cobra Kai, housed in a brand spanking new strip mall. There were no convenience stores. No pawn shops. No homeless women hanging around. There wasn't even any For Rent signs. Every single store was occupied. Starbucks. Salons—one for people. One for pets. A bakery where Robby imagined double digits for every cookie. A vegetarian market. Etcetera, etcetera. All upscale. And in the center was a huge glass building with cobras etched into the glass.

Cobra Kai reborn, but it was so far removed from his dad's vision of Cobra Kai, that Robby found it unrecognizable.

There was a truck parked outside of Cobra Kai and the doors were open. A local catering insignia on the side of the truck. Workers carrying trays of food inside. Breakfast for the team.

Robby didn't want an audience so he waited until the driver shut the back of the catering truck and drove off. Robby popped the sim card out of his phone, shoved it in his pocket, then tossed the phone on top of the items in the carboard box.

He was wiping his slate clean.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby walked in, box in his arms, the smell of new paint, rubber mats intermingling with trays of food laid out on decorated tables in the anteroom. A waiting room. Filled with posters and trophies. Empty cubes waiting for their own trophies.

"Hello." Robby yelled, his voice echoing.

"Ah, Mr. Keene." Silver stood in the center of what appeared to a palatial sized hallway, oversized rooms branching off. Multi practice rooms. "You're early, but that's fine." He didn't move, though he waved Robby to him.

"Where's Sensei Kreese?" Robby asked, adjusting his hold on the box.

Silver shrugged. "You know, he needed to take some time away."

"When will he be back?"

Silver did those superior pursed lips, souring his expression even more than it usually was. "Who knows." He spread his arms wide. "I'm here." He stepped closer.

Robby fought the urge to step back, out of the Cobra's striking range.

"You know, about your match yesterday—"

Nothing about yesterday was up for discussion with Silver. "I'm quitting Cobra Kai." He ripped the band aid off and unceremoniously dropped the box on the floor.

Silver tutted. "Yeah, Kenny gave me the head's up. Such a shame."

"Oh," Betrayal completed. He pointed to the box. "The phone. The gis. The exercise stuff. All there."

"Where's the money I gave your mom?" Silver loomed forward, without moving.

"You'll have to ask her, I have no idea what money you're talking about," Robby lied, not caring if Silver believed him or not.

"Where are you going to train?" Hands behind his back, non-threatening, he slithered forward.

"I'm not," Robby said, surprising himself with the answer.

"The money, I believe. You not training, I don't believe. Not for one minute. I understand you're embarrassed by your loss yesterday, but returning here, is how you save face. Admittedly, you, more than any of our other students are ruled by your emotions, but your talent is natural. You are just going to throw it away?" Silver shook his head, chuckling. "You don't have the strength to just walk away and leave this behind."

"Please tell Sensei Kreese thank you," Robby out of respect bowed to the name Cobra Kai, not to the man in front of him, then turned his back to leave before he lost his nerve.

Rule number one, never turn your back on a cobra.

Robby felt the displacement of air mere seconds before the sickening sound of his left shoulder being dislocated. He fell forward, landing on his knees, not recovered enough to prevent the kick to his exposed side, catching Robby in the ribs.

"You're a fucking lunatic," Robby gasped, staggering to his feet, using the wall for support, tucking his injured arm against his body.

He had no time to deflect the roundhouse kick to his face, landing him on his ass.

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Robby made it as far as the car before Silver reappeared. Silver slammed the car door shut, as Robby opened it. The man leaned down, Robby could feel his hot breath in his ear. "Warning, Mr. Keene. Do not disrespect me like you did at the tournament and never turn your back on a cobra. Maybe," he said with an evil chuckle, patting Robby's injured shoulder with undue pressure, "you should begin to look over your shoulder. You know, for self-preservation's sake. Oh, by the way, Shawn Payne had been so looking forward to reuniting with you on the mats. He's going to be very disappointed."

Silver reached around Robby and opened the car door. "Go run home to Mommy. Just make sure to tell her to return my money.

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Robby started the car, blessing the LaRusso's for providing his mom with a push button start. No keys in the ignition, fortuitous when he was functioning with only one arm.

He drove.

Focusing on the road in front.

Keeping within the speed limit.

Breathing through the worst of the pain.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, heading towards his dad for help instead of running in the opposite direction.

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"Hold your horses, Robby!" Johnny struggled to get his shirt over his still damp from the shower body as he walked barefoot to the door. The insistent front door banging had erupted just as he'd started to towel dry from the shower, increasing in intensity the longer he took. "I told you the key was under the flowerpot," Johnny said as he opened the door, narrowly avoiding getting kicked in the shins. "What the –" and he stopped, the heat of his words instantaneously doused by his son standing inches from him. "Robby," buried instinct broke through, and Johnny reached out.

"Don't touch me." Robby stumbled away from Johnny's grasp. The words were not spoken with anger, Johnny knew the difference. They were with a whispered cadence trimmed with pain.

Johnny raised his hands in surrender, stepping back, holding the door open with his body. Once Robby was inside, Johnny slammed the door shut with his foot, maneuvered around his son stopping his robotic forward motion by blocking his path.

Robby stopped, blinked at Johnny. Confused.

"Talk," Johnny commanded, fighting to keep his voice on an even keel.

"I need you to fix my shoulder."

"Fix your shoulder?" He ran a finger through his wet hair, leaving the strands standing at attention.

Robby's head was bent, his hoodie hiding his face in shadows. He was listing slightly to the left, counterbalancing his right arm bracing his left tightly to his body.

Johnny moved as swift as an Eagle, before Robby had the ability to object and pushed the hood down. "What the fuck, Robby?"

Whoever did this to Robby wanted to cause pain. From underneath his eye, which was starting to close, to his chin, the myriad of colors painted there reminded Johnny of a Crayola pallet.

Robby's gaze turned steel. "Could you clarify that, please?" And there it was that sarcastic, derogatory tone, the one Johnny was so familiar with. "Was that 'what the fuck did you do, Robby?' or was that 'what the fuck happened to you, Robby'?"'

Johnny shoved down his rising hackles. "Neither," he said softly, "it's whoever the hell did this to you isn't going to live to see another day."

"Thanks for the sentiment, Dad, but before you go all vigilante can you fix my shoulder?"

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This was not like riding a bike. Popping a shoulder back where it belonged was not muscle memory. The sad part was, Robby was way calmer than he was. Cutting down on his alcohol intake and having his son decide now was a good time in his life to trust his father, was not making Johnny feel any more comfortable (or confident) doing something that was intentionally going to cause pain.

"Are you ready?" he asked rubbing his hands together, to hide their shaking.

Robby sighed. "Yes. As ready as the last ten times you asked me."

"Let's take off your hoodie."

"No!" Robby's answer was emphatic and quick. "Put your hand underneath—"

Johnny did as asked, not missing the flash of pain skirting across Robby's face as he skimmed over his ribs.

And still he hesitated. "Can you do that thing that LaRusso taught you… "

"Meditation?" Robby sighed shakily, ""Look, dad, for some strange reason, I'm trusting you with this, but if you have misgivings, I can always use the brick wall in the courtyard-"

Fuck that, Johnny held his breath, counted to ten and gave no warning to Robby, the shoulder popped back into place between one word and the next.

"Shit," Robby's attempt to curl into the pain was halted by Johnny's supportive arm.

"Better?"

"Better?" Robby echoed with a harsh, angry undertone, "Better than what? Sorry, shit," he stumbled over an apology even before Johnny had a chance.

Without thought, Johnny planted a light kiss to the top of Robby's head, then pulled away, stunned at his own action, afraid that Robby was going to call him out on this sudden affection, but he didn't. Robby stayed silent, unmoving, but Johnny's hand, still resting in the vicinity of his bare chest, felt the rapid pounding of his son's heart.

Johnny's hand slid out from under Robby's shirt, his fingers tugging on the hem of the hoodie. "Off," he commanded, "time to check out the rest of the damage."

There it was, that moment of anger, the need to be a dick and not do what Johnny wanted, he could see and felt the hesitation.

"Okay," Robby ground out.

Johnny waited

Johnny watched Robby struggle, but he refused to offer help unless asked, awarding his son some modicum of control in this uncontrollable situation. He withheld his comments as Robby dropped his shirt and hoodie on the floor.

Naked from the waist up, Johnny was thankful that Robby's gaze was glued to the wall, because he, himself was walking a tightrope, balancing precariously between wrath and shock. Murder. Slow, painful and deliberate death at Johnny's hands the perpetrator of this deliberate use of force. Inflection of pain. The bruising, while some might have been a reflection of the tournament (was that only yesterday?) the majority of the discoloration was centered on his right side. Colors spreading like vomit across Robby's midsection.

"Nothing's broken," Robby said softly, awkwardly poking at the epicenter of the mark.

Johnny, with extreme gentleness, pushed Robby's arm to the side and prodded the area with deft, sure (though shaking fingers). The bruise was hot to the touch and two of the ribs had a tad too much give under Johnny's ministrations. "I'm going to fucking kill Kreese," he growled.

Robby grabbed Johnny's hand with his good arm, stilling the appendage resting on the bruise. "This wasn't Sensi Kreese," he hissed. "I know you don't have the best history with him—"

"Understatement," Johnny snorted.

"But he'd never hurt me. He might—"

Johnny stared at Robby.

"Okay, admittedly he might fuck with my brain," Robby finished, "but he'd never do something like this to me. He wasn't even at the dojo."

"You went to the dojo? There was no one there—"

"The new one."

"So, you were ambushed by Cobra Kai? There were students lying in wait for you?"

"No, nothing as sinister as that," Robby admitted, almost embarrassed, Johnny thought. "Just one, Terry Silver. I told him I quit and as you can see, the rest is history."

"You quit? So, he hauled off an—" Johnny scrubbed his free hand across his face, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him."

"Ow," Robby squirmed, "I get it, you're pissed. I'm pissed too, more at my stupidity than him being an asshole." Robby pushed away the hand Johnny still had resting on his ribs. "I get it, okay, Dad, I get it, but can you take it out on a wall, please?"

"Sorry." Johnny picked up Robby's hoodie and handed it to him. "Easiest thing 'cause of the zipper. I'll look for a button up shirt for you-"

"My clothes are in the car."

Johnny's mind was veering off in another direction and it took him another moment or two to process the statement. "Why are your clothes in the car?"

Robby wouldn't answer.

"Shit, no fucking way," he held back from punching anything because there was no missing the expression on Robby's face, his inability to make eye contact or the stiff, uncomfortable way he telegraphed his unhappiness. "She left, again, didn't she? What the hell was she thinking?"

"People in glass houses-" Robby said, not bothering to hide or apologize for the derisive undertone. "It takes one to know one," he continued, "pot/kettle black-let me know when to stop, I've got a million of them."

Johnny swallowed his guilt. "I—" he started. "Crap." He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.

"Sorry," Robby said, putting on his hoodie and zipping it up. He bent slowly, awkwardly scooping up his shirt. "Thanks for fixing my shoulder, checking me over," he walked towards the door, totally misreading the situation. "I'm going to go—"

Whose fault was that? Johnny bounded up and placed himself between Robby's departure and the door. "You're not going anywhere." Johnny drew a deep breath. "Miguel left."

"So?"

"He went to Mexico."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Honestly, nothing," Johnny admitted truthfully. "He went to go find his father, who according to Carmen, is a bad man. Miguel left because of something I said."

"No," Robby said softly, "it's probably because of something I said. So," Robby offered Johnny a slight smile, "you're telling me that you're going after Miguel. To Mexico. To make amends."

"Come with me."

Robby snorted. "Yeah, I'm thinking Miguel really doesn't want me to be riding shotgun down to Mexico. Thanks for the offer though."

"I wasn't asking you to come with me, I was telling you that you're coming to Mexico with me."

Robby opened his mouth. Closed it, then blinked at Johnny. Confused? Wary? Curious?

"Think, Robby. Use the brains you were given. Where are you going to live? I'm thinking you can't go to your mom's. Not leaving you alone here with Silver on the prowl, pissed, maybe waiting to finish the job. Living in the back of Cobra Kai isn't an option." Johnny snorted. "LaRusso's?" Pretty much guessing Robby's answer to that one.

"No," Robby replied, "He tossed me out on my ass twice, I'm not going back for the hat trick. I'm not that stupid or that desperate, also Sam might kill me while I slept."

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby was caught between a rock and a hard place. Maybe if Sensei Kreese had been behind the wheel, but Silver calling the shots, was an unexpected and painful outcome. Tory's offer of the couch, for her preservation, was off the table.

Maybe he would finally admit it. He was hurting. And for once in his goddamn fucked up life, he was tired of being left behind. He was done worrying about where his next meal was going to come from. Where he was sleeping. He was tired of people hating him, of being afraid of him. He was tired of being angry. And he was just damn tired of being tired.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

"When would we leave?"

"Today."

"Today," Robby echoed in disbelief. "Umm, I have my passport in one of the boxes in the car. You have a passport?"

"Why would I need a passport?"

"Mexico?"

"I have one of those enhanced license thingies, that should work."

Robby nodded, "Yeah," then waited for the inevitable.

"Why do you have a passport?"

"When I was twelve, Mom was dating this guy who was a pilot, she believed he was going to take us to see the world. She wanted to be prepared."

"Won't even ask how that turned out."

"He was married. A girl in every state type of thing. Flipped a shit when she tried to get him to pay for the passports. The usual." That promise had hurt, big time and it was also the one time his mother had raised her hand to him. She hadn't hit him, but even now, he remembered standing in their kitchen, the apartment had reverberated with the slamming of the door as he'd left, and time froze. Her hand lifted waiting to deliver the blow and in his shock, he stood, unable to breath or move. Waiting.

He jerked when his dad snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"Earth to Robby. Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

"No concussion." Though he'd probably sell his soul right now for a bottle of Tylenol.

Robby caught his father surreptitiously checking his watch. "Keys to the car," His dad didn't offer a please, just gimme fingers. "I'll bring in your boxes. You shower, then throw some stuff into a bag-"

"You mean pack, right? Any idea how long we're going to be gone?"

"You got someplace you need to be?"

There was an edge to his dad's voice, that had Robby bristling, maybe because they both were aware of the answer to the question.

His dad closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if Mr. LaRusso had taken him to the tree in the forest for grounding. "I'm sorry," he said, opening his eyes and studying Robby. "I'm-"

"It's okay, dad," Robby handed over the keys.

"No, it's not. This isn't fair to you, I'm sure—"

"Go get the boxes," Robby ordered, angry now. Rehashing what either of them believed was fair was a waste of time. Worthless. A shower. Tylenol. And a day or so to lick his wounds before heading back into the foray was what Robby had wanted. Yeah, he would get the shower and if he was lucky, Tylenol, and a shit long car ride to bring his brother from a different mother back home.

Karma is a bitch with a fucked up sense of humor.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Seventeen years of life relegated to three cardboard boxes. Sadly, the boxes weren't even full. Johnny dropped them in the second bedroom and tossed the backpack and skateboard on the bed.

Johnny found a fairly clean, not moth-eaten duffle in the hall closet and dumped that on the bed then went to his own room to pack.

Johnny stared at his own duffle, unsure of what to pack. Unsure of how long dragging Miguel's ass back home was going to take. Disgusted, he flung the duffle on top of his pile of clothes and left his room.

"Robby," he said, knocking on the bathroom door, hoping his son heard him over the spitting shower. "I'll be right back."

He needed to talk to Carmen. Now.

Carmen answered the door on the first knock.

"Johnny." She was noticeably exhausted, bags under her eyes, her welcoming smile barely visible. Even her usually brisk scrubs, appear to be faded and wrinkled, though he noticed her lunch bag on the counter when he entered.

"Working today?" He asked, stating the obvious.

"I can't stay home. Waiting." She patted the front pocket of her blue scrub top. "I have my phone with me at all times."

"Carmen," he took her hands and walked her to the couch, sitting first, so she had no choice but to follow him down. "You need to be honest with me about Miguel's father. I need to know, to be prepared, to what I'm walking into." What he was dragging his son into was what he wanted to clarify.

"Miggy's father was involved in drugs, illegal trafficking and," she looked embarrassed, as if Johnny would judge her on past indiscretions. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Robby had reminded him. Johnny's own sordid past sorta precluded him from passing judgement on most people. "He was the number two man in the Cordova cartel in Mexico City. The foundation of his reputation was built on fear."

Johnny opened his mouth, but Carmen placed a hand gently on his chest.

"We were childhood sweethearts," she continued. "I never truly realized how emmeshed he was in the family business. I never questioned where the money came from. Or the expensive gifts. Or our house and car. I was young. And stupid," Carmen answered with a shake of her head. "My mother kept telling me, he was an evil man, but why should I have believed her. Until I saw with my own eyes." Her breath was shaky, and her eyes filled with tears over a memory. "He will destroy Miggy."

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby dressed in in the second bedroom, thankful for the lack of mirror. Just by the way his body felt, how slow it was responding, was testament to how badly he was bruised and how stupid he had been.

Sweats were easier than jeans, ratty and worn. The one's he'd worn when Mr. LaRusso had him on the tree for hours. Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, Robby felt himself center. Though it hurt to inhale, the ache of missing what had been was worse. He found a shirt and socks then went to pack.

Underwear. Socks. Jeans, Tee shirts. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Toothpaste. That was the extent of his life now.

Robby was rooting around in the fridge when his dad walked in.

"Shit, you never got breakfast."

Robby backed out, shaking a barely filled container of milk. "Is there cereal to go with this?" He turned the container around, then dropped it in the trash with a roll of his eyes. "Expired two weeks ago."

"Sit," his dad ordered pointing to one of the stools. "I have eggs, bread and I think a slice or two of cheese."

"You don't cook. Ever."

"Times have changed," his dad spoke with a flourish, "I have changed," he added softly.

A nasty retort sat impatiently at the edge of Robby's tongue. It had never occurred to him that remaining quiet took more strength than speaking without thought.

His dad put a bottle of OJ, a glass and a bag of frozen peas on the counter. "Should've done this earlier." He slid the peas to Robby, then pointed to his own face.

Robby sat at the counter, the bag of peas pressed against his middle, which based on his dad's expression, had not been what he was going for. Sure, his face was multi colored and swollen, his eye closed, but his ribs hurt more.

With a clatter, the frying pan was placed none too gently on the burner and Robby poured a glass of OJ, impatiently waiting for the crashing tidal wave of annoyance that was coming, because experience had taught him that was what to expect when he didn't follow his dad's rules.

Three.

Two.

One.

His dad's accusatory index finger bounced between Robby's face and ribs. "Really? Have you looked in the mirror?"

"Honestly," he made no attempt to shove his attitude aside, "I tried not to. Ribs hurt worse than my face looks."

Anger slid from his dad's face, quickly replaced by guilt, and he opened the freezer door and flung a frozen bag of mixed veggies and one of corn.

Robby surprised even himself with a burst of laughter. "Really, I only have two hands."

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he found himself on the couch. Peas on his ribs, corn on his face and mixed veggies shoved between his body and the back of the couch for his shoulder.

Tylenol would've worked just as good, probably better than frozen veggies.

Strangely, he must've fallen asleep for a minute or two, waking up when his dad dropped their breakfast on the coffee table.

"Eat," his dad ordered, plucking the defrosting bags of veggies and tossing them onto the counter. He refilled Robby's glass and miracle of miracles, there were two even better than Tylenol Advil next to the plate. "No eat first," he said when Robby reached for the Advil.

The eggs were a runny, the toast a little burnt, but the jelly more than made up for the meal's shortcomings. Because his jaw hurt, a fact he kept to himself, Robby chewed slowly, breaking off the burnt pieces. He was starving, not even objecting when his dad switched Robby's empty plate with his, without a word of explanation.

"Dad," God this was hard, and while his father, to get on his good side would pretty much do whatever Robby usually asked of him, what he needed was difficult on many levels.

"Robby?" Brows pulled down, no smile, maybe now wasn't a time his father would jump through hoops.

"Without asking questions, can you please call Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso to meet us at their Encino dealership. There's something I need to do." Under his dad's scrupulous stare, Robby shifted, and his ribs twinged, and while he tried to hide his discomfort his hand had other ideas, acting on its own volition seeking to counter pressure the ache. "Stop!" he shouted before his dad took two steps in his direction. "Sore. That's it."

His dad's fingers crawled into fists as if he were fighting with himself not to touch once more. "Broken."

Robby huffed, the exhalation hurting but this time his face remained neutral. "Maybe," he skipped shrugging because that would be too painful and not worth the hovering. "Sore. Broken. There's no difference except the length of time it takes to heal."

"And you're an expert in this how—internet MD?"

"No. Experience. I was in juvie, remember. Not all fun and games, or serving foods and cleaning up messes."

His dad cringed. "Robby—"

"Don't okay? Just don't." He needed to bring this back on track.

"On it." He waved his phone at Robby, then stopped, asking the question Robby had been waiting for. "Don't you have a cell."

"I gave it back. Along with all the other stuff from Cobra Kai."

"Other stuff?"

"Okay. Gi's, exercise clothing, stuff that basically looked good and advertised the dojo."

"And a cell phone?" There was that edge, the precipice.

Robby mumbled the answer, the breakfast and Advil now sitting uncomfortably in his stomach because he'd been naïve, and the answer to that question had only occurred to him on the drive to the new dojo.

"Eh?" His dad cupped a hand around his ear. "I didn't hear what you said. Care to speak louder for your old man?"

"So they could keep track of me."

"What the fuck, Robby?"

"I know," Robby took the wind out his dad's anger, puncturing his balloon with softly spoken words of truth. "I was stupid."

"Pffffttt… you'll get no objection from me," his dad said.

"I flushed my sim card down the toilet."

"Oooookay."

"You have no idea what that is, do you?"

"Whatever, as long as they aren't going to show up at my door or clog my toilet."

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch, listening to a one-sided conversation of his dad lying through his teeth to get the LaRusso's to show up at the dealership on a weekend, but in the end thirty minutes was the agreed upon time.

And he opened his eyes as his dad made exaggerated grunting noises. "Don't worry, I got this."

Robby bit back a groan and as cautiously and slowly as possible stood, using the side of the couch for support. "Bruised my ass," his dad hissed, hoisting Robby's duffle higher on his shoulder.

"Where's my keys?" Robby asked, remembering his dad had them last.

"Why, where do you think you're going?"

"Driving to LaRusso dealership, where did you think I was going?"

"To Mexico with me."

"Yes, after I talk to Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso."

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby drove like an old man, at first Johnny followed him, then became too annoyed and went in front of him, checking constantly in his rear-view mirror watching as Robby got further and further behind, until he gave up and sped to their destination.

Dressed in sweats, the pair were waiting outside the building, Daniel impatiently checking his watch.

"You're late," was the first thing he said as Johnny stepped from the car, slamming his door loudly.

"Morning to you," Johnny walked around LaRusso, kissing Amanda on the cheek.

She smiled broadly. "Morning to you."

"Can you get on with this, Amanda and I have—"

"Hmmm, wasn't there a segment on patience Mr. Miyagi taught you?" Johnny asked innocently, winking at Amanda.

"Fine. Fine."

Johnny glanced over his shoulder, thinking he a minute or two before Robby showed up and drew a deep breathe. "Robby—"

"What, happened, is he okay?"

"What did I just say about patience?" Johnny asked. "We talked after the tournament and well," this was awkward, "and he pretty much realized he screwed the pooch," he shot an apologetic smile at Amanda, "sorry. And he apologized. For everything."

"Robby apologized?"

"Yup, close your mouth LaRusso, before a fly goes in there."

"How is he? What else did he say?"

"Quiet," Johnny said, glancing at Amanda for support. "Robby is fine, sorta."

"Sorta?" LaRusso echoed, his verbal diarrhea drying up when his wife touched his arm. "Sorry."

"He visited Cobra Kai-"

"Was he crazy?"

"Quiet," Amanda said," then adding softly, "please, let Johnny finish his story."

Thank you he mouthed at Amanda. "No, I think the exact words he said was that he was stupid," he waved away LaRusso's comments with his hand, "that's a conversation for another time. Robby quit Cobra Kai and Terry Silver-"

"What the fuck did Terry Silver do-'

"LaRusso, rein it in, we'll take care of Silver when Robby and I get back."

"Back? You're leaving? Now? Now is not a good time."

"I'm going to Mexico to find Miguel. Having one stupid kid's not enough, that other stupid kid got it in his head to find his dad. So, now I'm dragging my stupid kid to find the other stupid kid."

"You're going to Mexico. With Robby. To find Miguel?"

"I know, weird, huh? Why is your conversation reduced to three word sentences?"

"I think he's trying to process your words, Johnny." Amanda said sweetly.

Johnny turned at the sound of a car pulling into the lot. "Process quickly, LaRusso. Robby's here, and don't make promises you can't keep.

Johnny strode over to Robby, just as he was getting out of the car. "You drive like a little old lady."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Robby rolled his eyes. "Everyone's a damn critic."

"Go talk to LaRusso before he has a fit," his dad said, gently pushing Robby.

Suddenly, this didn't seem like such a good idea. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nope," his dad kissed him on his temple, and Robby caught him smiling. "This is all on you, so play nicely, okay?"

"Did you just smile at Mr. LaRusso after you like—"

"Kissed you, damn straight, and I owe you big time for not wiping it off."

Even though he'd avoided mirrors, Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso's expressions spoke volumes.

"Honest, it looks worse than—" Robby stopped, this wasn't why he'd come and he was beyond making excuses. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Mr. LaRusso, but I came to apologize for everything I said to you." He turned to Mrs. L and smiled. "Thank you for everything you've done for my mom." He fished the keys from his pocket and dangled the key chain from his fingers. "I need to return these. The car—" the words stuck in his throat.

"It's okay, Robby," Mrs. L said, gutting him with her smile.

"I don't know where she is. When she'll be back. At the end of the month, the apartment will be history. The car will be repossessed. I'm sorry."

Mr. LaRusso reached out, surprised when Robby stepped back. "Please just take the keys."

Mrs. L reached out gliding the ring of keys from his hand. "We'll take care of the paperwork."

"Thank you," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Robby, you do know you don't have to apologize for your mother. Or your dad."

"I know," Robby said softly, "it just seemed—like something I should do."

"Hey, you're going with your dad to Mexico, to ummm get Miguel?"

"That's the plan, though I'm pretty positive the drive back might be sorta hellish."

"You know you can stay with us, right?" Mr. LaRusso offered.

Mrs. L was silent, her eyes kind and welcoming, but it wasn't her, it had never been her.

"You're a hockey fan, Mr. LaRusso, right?"

"Islanders all the way, you know that, Robby."

"Good," he said, trying to temper the bitterness, "I'm sure you'll understand the analogy then. You tossed my ass to the curb, twice, I'm not going for a hat trick."

"Jeeze, I'm sorry. You can't believe how sorry I am." Mr. LaRusso spoke softly, pleading. "If I could take back—"

"But you can't. Like I can't take back the outcome of the school fight. Or all the wrong decisions that followed."

Robby turned and walked away, playing the game of could've would've should've was damning.

"Robby, please wait."

He turned, almost hating himself for being manipulated. "We need to get on the road— " on cue his dad honked the horn. Surprised that it was Mrs. L standing within arm's length. "Spill it," she ordered, raking her hand up and down his body. "I'm sure your face isn't the only—"

"It's not." For her, Robby realized he would do anything. "He dislocated my shoulder again, and according to my dad I have a broken rib or two."

"How long a drive to Mexico?" A question he was sure she knew the answer to.

Robby blinked at her, "huh? I don't know, over a day?"

She pointed to his dad's car. "Get your father," she ordered, "I want to talk to him. You go sit in the car, before you fall down."

"Ready?" his dad asked as soon as Robby settled in the seat.

"Mrs. L wants to talk to you first."

"Oh, come on. I wanted to get on the road—"

"Don't shoot the messenger. I told her that. I wouldn't keep her waiting." Robby squinted, using one eye, the other half closed thanks to Silver, trying to bring the scene through the windshield into focus. "Is she yelling at Mr. LaRusso?"

"Yup," his dad's smile was broad. "This is gonna be good."

xxxxxxxxxx

Whatever Mrs. L was yelling about, had Mr. LaRusso's panties in a twist. Arms flaying, stomping the ground. What was strange, Robby thought, was that his dad appeared to be agreeing with Mr. LaRusso. Mrs. L pointed and just like that, Mr. LaRusso gave in, and walked away, toward one of the lots, even his dad appeared to cower. Mrs. L went inside the dealership and his dad was left standing there, kicking the gravel like school kid with no friends.

And then something weird happened. Mr. LaRusso pulled up in front of the dealership, in one of those spots reserved for cars to be picked up. Then he got out, closed the door and tossed his dad the keys, who tossed them right back to him, the game of catch between the two of them went on for a minute or two until Mrs. L walked out the glass front door and played monkey-in-the-middle, catching the keys.

xxxxxxxxxx

"I'm not taking that car," Johnny said, wildly gesturing at the black Audi.

LaRusso snorted. "No, you're right, you're not *taking* that car. LaRusso Motors is lending you the car."

"My car is fine."

"Johnny," Amanda said, placing a hand on his arm. "Yes, your car is fine, for you."

"But not for Robby," LaRusso interrupted, shoving his better parenting in Johnny's face, "not now, on a day and a half trip down to Mexico. In case you're less observant than usual, he's hurting and uncomfortable."

"He's fine—"

"And you believed him?" LaRusso interrupted, drawing a sour expression from his wife.

"Shut up," Amanda said.

LaRusso smirked at Johnny.

"Both of you," Amanda added. "Johnny, you're going to take the car, the paperwork is in the glove compartment. There's a/c, heated seats, a great sound system, dvr screen in the back seats and it's comfortable. Roomy, space for your son to stretch out. I know you're focused on the prize in Mexico, but Robby isn't sloppy seconds."

"I never believed that." Those words hurt, and the fact that Amanda thought that, hurt even more.

"But Robby does, and that's what matters." There was no judgment in her tone, just truth. "Now go get Robby."

xxxxxxxxxx

"I don't understand," Robby hissed to his father as they walked towards the LaRusso's. "Why do they resemble game show hosts about to award us the grand prize."

"Close," his dad whispered.

If there was one thing Robby had learned to appreciate during his short time at LaRusso Motors was cars. Their monetary worth. And their worth to other people. "No," he repeated when Mrs. L held the keys to the sleek, black Audi to his dad. Robby reached out and pushed down his father's hand.

"Don't waste your breath," his dad said, using his other hand to get the keys. "Their argument was very persuasive."

Robby watched as his dad went to move their duffle bags from his car to the Audi. "Mrs. L," he was hesitant to ask this favor. "Can you please let Tory know I'm okay? I mean," he pointed to his face, "if you could manage to forget to mention this, I'd appreciate it."

Even though he was facing Mrs. L and talking directly to her, Mr. LaRusso asked the question. "Where's your cell? Don't you have—"

"No, the cell was the property of Cobra Kai, I gave it back, flushed the sim card down the toilet, though." With his good shoulder, he offered up a shrug. "So, if you would, you know, just send her a text—"

"Don't leave," Mrs. L said, turning on her heels, I'll be right back."

He and his dad were never getting out of here. While the trip to Mexico might be hell, standing in this parking lot, under the hangdog expression of Mr. LaRusso was purgatory.

With a duffle slung over each shoulder, his father pressed the car fob, first setting off the alarm before Mr. LaRusso, with an exasperated eye roll, grabbed it from his hand showed him the correct one to press to open the trunk.

"Too many damn buttons." His father groused, tossing the duffle bags into the trunk then plucking the keys from Mr. LaRusso's outstretched hand.

"Robby, get in the car—how the fuck do you even open the doors? Where's the door thingie on this—"

"Just have to be near the car, Johnny for the doors to open," Mr. LaRusso stated with patience.

"Really? Okay, that's cool. Robby," he repeated, "get in the car—"

"Wait!." Mrs. L came over to Robby with a box. A cell phone box. "Take this," she said, grabbing his hand and placing the box in his upturned palm. "We were giving it to Anthony for his birthday."

"I can't." He made a futile attempt to hand it back to her.

"No!" Mr. LaRusso said. "We'll get another one for Anthony. Don't worry."

Robby wasn't worrying, he didn't want to be indebted to them. "I can't," he repeated.

"Look, Robby. Your dad's not the best in communicating on a good day. Think of this as our line of communication. I'm trusting you—"

"That didn't work out too well last time you trusted me—" Robby let the sentence hang in the air

"I know, and I was very wrong," Mr. LaRusso surprisingly agreed, "we'll talk when you get back."

This time Robby didn't flinch when Mr. LaRusso rubbed his arm, but the morning sun was blurring his vision. "Okay," he softly replied.

"The phone has already been activated. I wrote the number on the bottom of the box," Mrs. L turned the box over and written in black marker was the number connected to the phone. "It's a new number. And all our numbers are programmed in already, so all you have to do—"

Robby nodded, his thumb caressing the box, no longer able to hold eye contact. "Thank you," he said to the ground under his feet.

Robby got into the car, expecting his father to follow, but Mrs. L stopped him. And Robby watched through the windshield, as his father nodded and Robby's heart sank when he accepted what she'd handed him.

xxxxxxxxxx

He didn't have to speak to his dad while he was setting up the phone.

"Robby?"

Robby turned on the radio, found the Sirius station that played only eighties music, and like any districted toddler with a limited attention span, Robby had given himself another hour or so of sorta peace and quiet while his father gave a running soliloquy about the songs and bands.

Robby heard none of it, his dad's voice was background white noise. By four o'clock Robby had a headache, was uncomfortable and needed to pee, but before he could say a word his father got off the highway and pulled into a McDonald's parking lot.

"Hungry?"

"I could eat," Robby said, itching to get out of the car. "Gotta pee first."

His dad got to the door of the restaurant before realizing Robby was lagging more than a few steps behind him. He waited patiently, holding the door opened.

"Just stiff from sitting too long," Robby answered before the question was even asked. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Just order me chicken nuggets with fries—"

"What are you a toddler?"

"Yes, Dad, really. Nuggets. Fries. Extra barbeque sauce and a Coke."

He was peeing blood, not a lot, but enough. He washed his hands, avoiding looking in the mirror. The restaurant was basically empty. Before the dinner rush and way after the lunch crowd, the only people staring at Robby's pallet of facial bruises were the workers.

The table was far from the counter and his dad settled down the tray and Robby the napkins and straws. Robby opened his box of nuggets filling the empty cardboard side with BBQ sauce. His dad went to fill their sodas and by the time he returned, Robby had already made a dent in his ten chicken nuggets.

His dad put the sodas on the table, digging into his pocket before sitting. "Take one of these before you finish." He put the pill bottle on the table, the one he'd seen pass from Mrs. L to his father.

Robby picked it up and read the label. "I'll be right back," he said taking the bottle with him into the bathroom.

xxxxxxxxxx

He put the empty bottle on the table and sat slowly.

"Fuck, Robby did you?" his dad said picking up the empty container.

"No," he dragged a lukewarm fry through the bbq sauce. "I flushed them."

"Why?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He tossed down the fry he was bringing to his mouth. "I'm the offspring of two addicts. Alcohol. Drugs. Take your choice. I may do stupid things, but I. Am. Not. Dumb. And I didn't trust you enough not to slip me an oxy when I refused to take one."

His dad held his hands up in surrender, looking around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. "I never said you were dumb."

"My chances of becoming addicted to a substance, any substance is over fifty percent. I don't drink. At all. No beers. Nothing. I don't do drugs—"

"When the school called they said—"

"They found drugs on me, dad. Not in me."

"So I should feel better that you were dealing and not using? That's pretty screwed up."

Robby was angry. Tired of people always assuming the worst of him. His own dad and it had hurt then. And it hurt now. "Not that you care, but I was selling to put food on the table. A roof over our heads. Pay the bills. Give mom money to—" He pushed the food away, but he didn't get up and leave, that was the dick move his dad always pulled, "I'm not hungry anymore."

"I didn't know," his dad stuttered.

"I didn't think you'd care." Robby stared at his dad. "And if I had come to you, would you have helped us out without a thirty minute drunk diatribe about how bad my mother was?"

"No, probably not," his dad admitted.

"And that's why I didn't come to you." Robby's laugh was humorless. "I did go to Sid."

His dad cringed. "How'd that go?"

"He gave me enough money to pay the rent and bills for two months with the promise I never ever step foot in his house again." Robby accepted the box of chicken nuggets his dad pushed back to him.

"Did he make you feel like shit?"

"Who the fuck cared; he paid the bills for two months." Robby picked up the chicken nugget he'd dropped. It was covered with BBQ sauce, but he ate it anyway. "Don't give me any pills, okay? My choice. My decision."

"With those pills, Amanda thought she was doing right. Told me that you were hurting worse than you admitted. Is that true?"

"Maybe," Robby mumbled.

"Damn it, Robby," his dad's voice was filled sadness.

"I could handle it." Robby repeated

"I couldn't. And the fact that the LaRusso's saw what I didn't—"

Now, Robby was done. The BBQ sauce looked like spattered blood and he closed the box, shoving it to the farthest corner of the table. "I was able because," Robby looked out the window, at the Audi with a price tag more than his dad made in a year, "nevermind."

"Hey, kid," there was such hope in his dad's expression.

"Thank you for being there today." Robby grabbed his soda and stood. "Wanna get going?"

"Sit," his dad commanded with a wave of a fry. "LaRusso has these crazy rules about not eating in his car. Let's try and honor that for at least a day."

Robby sat, but shook his head when his father pushed the box of chicken nuggets across the table. "No, I'm okay."

"Pfffft, don't complain when you're hungry in an hour."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Dad?"

Johnny fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I warned you, Robby, I'm not stopping 'cause you're hungry."

"Did you take the Advil with you?"

No, they were sitting on the counter waiting for Johnny to shove them in the duffle. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Robby said, with a tinge of 'it wasn't really okay' in his voice.

Johnny got off at the next exit.

"No, Dad, really, it's okay."

"No. If you're asking for painkillers—"

"They're Advil, painkillers are what I flushed down the toilet."

"Six of these, half a dozen of another."

"Whatever."

Johnny chalked up the annoyance in his son's voice to the fact he was uncomfortable and not that he was really pissed that his father had screwed up. Again. He pulled into a strip mall whose main feature was a well-lit Walgreens.

Robby said nothing, as he parked the car. "I'll be right back."

xxxxxxxxxx

"What did you buy?"

Johnny thrust two oversized bags at Robby. "I made an executive decision that the non-eating LaRusso Rule was stupid." Into the cup holder he put an oversized bottle of water and a Dr. Pepper.

Robby was still rustling through the bags. He dropped them by his feet, holding the largest bottle of Advil on the market. "Wow. I don't think I've ever—"

"I know," Johnny agreed. "There're pretzels. Granola bars. Chips—" he smiled at Robby. "Eat something before the Advil. Water. Keep your hands off my Dr. Pepper."

Johnny could pinpoint exactly when the four (and he made no comment about that) Advil took the edge off. Robby's breathing deepened and the angry, pinched look around his mouth and eyes had smoothed out. He'd eaten a granola bar and now the bag of pretzels was being tossed from hand to hand, probably broken into a million pieces by the time he made the decision to open the bag.

"How's the phone?" Johnny was surprised Robby wasn't glued to the screen.

"Okay. I sent Tory a text—"

It felt good to have Robby talk without being prodded. Without answering a question. Just talking. "What did she say?"

"Told her I was taking a trip with you to Mexico to find Miguel."

Johnny waited but Robby watched the scenery through the passenger window, tossing the damn pretzels from one hand to the other.

"I need you just to listen," Robby spoke to the window, clouding up the glass with his words, "and not interrupt. My issue with Miguel goes beyond Sam. Tory."

"Why are you—"

"Eh, no interruptions."

Johnny huffed, annoyed, "didn't realize you'd already started."

"I'm starting."

"I'm listening." And Johnny listened.

"The day you showed up and confronted me about school, mom told me you placed the offer on the table for me to live with you. Yeah, sorry but I'd been burnt too many times to take it seriously."

Johnny's peripheral vision caught Robby's furtive glance towards the driver's seat, waiting for him to dispute that fact. Truth was, Johnny wasn't able.

Robby's tone turned flat and emotionless as he continued. "That night mom came home late with—" he choked, unable to finish.

Robby didn't need to, Johnny filled in the blank, experience had taught him Shan's MO.

Robby's breathing became slow and measured, compliments of LaRusso. "Well, I thought maybe this time, it would be different. You would be different."

Johnny racked his memory, that conversation hadn't gotten further than him screaming at Shannon at the bar.

"I went to see you at the dojo." Robby's voice turned hard, brittle, sharp enough to cause injury. "Saw more than you. Saw Miguel. Saw you give Miguel your gi."

Ouch.

"Saw you and Miguel hug. So, I took what remained of my pride and dignity and left. I hated that kid but I hated you more."

The damn hug. Johnny remembered the day. The feeling of finally getting something right, in a way he'd never been able to get it right with Robby. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"-drove with Sam to a party."

For a minute, Johnny had stopped listening, focusing on the past, the hug on replay until his heart reminded his brain Johnny's one job was to listen.

"Sam kept talking about her boyfriend who was going to be upset that she hadn't spoken to him. Fuck my luck. Imagine, her boyfriend was the same guy my dad had replaced me with. Miguel was his name. Miguel was drunk, pushed me down, pissed I'd shown up with Sam. I was just pissed. He'd stolen everything. My dad. The girl I liked. I was pretty damn confident I'd beat his ass. I saw in his eyes, Miguel was pretty damn confident he'd beat my ass, but Sam stepped in front of him. So drunk Miguel hit Sam instead of me. For once, I'd won without even throwing a punch."

Johnny made a half-hearted attempt to turn off the radio. The music was no longer background, the bands had become a distraction. He had one job. Listen.

"I got this." There was a hint of amusement in Robby's words and magically the car was quiet.

"Still listening," Johnny prodded when the silence became deafening.

"You were up front and center for the next fiasco, when Mr. LaRusso connected the dots. Father. Son. You left. I got shown the door. What I never understood was why didn't wait for me?"

The words 'it never occurred to him' sounded harsh, even to Johnny, so he told the truth, positive the sentiment would hurt more. "Because I was unable to see beyond my hurt. My betrayal. My disappointment," Johnny sighed. "My anger."

"Welcome to my life," Seventeen years of sadness, betrayal, anger and disappointment were crammed into those four words.

The road blurred, and Johnny blinked, convincing himself he's just tired.

The rest of the story, Robby recited as if it's a well-worn, well-read children's book. The All Valley. Angry, no mercy Hawk and his partner in crime, Miguel. Robby paid the price. All done without honor to a stranger who was their sensei's son. Ignorance was bliss. To Miguel and Hawk.

Not to Robby.

Not to Johnny.

Damage done.

Damn road was blurring again, as Johnny listened to how Robby lived in an apartment with no food. No electric. No money. No one on his side except Mr. LaRusso.

"You know the rest, dad. Sam got drunk. Kissed Miguel. I brought drunk Sam to your apartment because she didn't want to go home. Mr. LaRusso came to get his baby girl and once again, I'm out. Yadda yadda yadda-school fight. Juvie."

Johnny's heart broke. Robby had become the villain in everyone's story. Including his own.

"The day I was released from juvie, you and Mr. LaRusso were fighting. The two of you made me pawn as if possessing me, made that person the winner. So I ran, like I did after the fight, because like father like son, when all else failed, bail. So went to Miyagi Do, just to spend the night. To weigh my options. But this time when I ran, I ran right into Sam and Miguel together. So I ran again, to the only person who cared about me when I was in juvie, Sensei Kreese, who was waiting for me with open arms and a gi. Sound familiar, dad? What goes around comes around? The only thing missing was the hug. But heh! I got a sleeping bag, a roof over my head and food.

"I hated you," Robby's voice was rough, "but I realized it was never hate. But anger. And—"

Johnny wondered if the road was blurring for him, too.

"I'm just tired of being angry. Of making the wrong choices. Of feeling worthless. Of being disposable."

Johnny cut across three lanes of traffic, cursing at the horns interrupting his path.

"What the fuck!" Robby yelled attempting to find purchase. "Mr. LaRusso's going to—"

Gravel flew when Johnny entered the shoulder at high speed. A second or so and the car was under control. He slammed the gear shift into park, undid his seat belt and turned to Robby."

"You were never, ever fucking disposable, kid."

Robby undid his own seatbelt and turned to stare at Johnny out of his one good eye. He was speechless, grappling for composure in the face of Johnny's venom. "From the cheap seats Dad, that's exactly what it felt like. What I felt like."

Johnny glanced down, the anguish on Robby's face was almost unbearable to comprehend. Suddenly, an inappropriately timed smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "What did the damn pretzels ever do to you?"

"Huh?"

Johnny's hand snuck out and gripped the edge of the bag of pretzels, now crushed to smithereens in Robby's grip. He waved the crumbled bag in son's face. "Pretending the pretzels were me?"

Robby graced him with a one eye roll, rebuckling his seatbelt, but Johnny noticed, but refused to comment on the hint of a smile that flashed across his face nor the grunt of pain when the seatbelt clicked into place.

Johnny put on his seatbelt and joined the flow of traffic.

Robby put the radio on an all eighties music station. "Miguel isn't going to be happy to see me."

"He'll deal," Johnny acknowledged though a frisson of worry already was settling in his gut.

"And me?" Robby prodded, "our history sucks. Me and Miguel."

Johnny repeated what he'd told Robby in the deserted dojo. "We'll get through this."

xxxxxxxxxx

The lack of conversation in the car, for once, wasn't uncomfortable. The 80's station was fuckin' awesome and Johnny was smiling at the memories the songs evoked.

Robby gave him a sidelong glance.

"What? Am I embarrassing you?"

His question earned a chuckle. "That would be a no. It's just me and you in the car, windows aren't opened, you might be embarrassing yourself but not me."

"Why are you looking at me then?"

"Doing math in my head, thinking these are the songs when you were what, my age? Sorta sick."

"Years go fast."

"Profound, dad. Really-"

Johnny turned for a second, a nasty comeback waiting impatiently, words dissipating at the slightest of smiles on Robby's face. "Pulling my leg?"

"Maybe-" Robby shifted in the chair.

"Okay, kid?" Robby looked tired, worn, older than seventeen.

Robby ignored his question and asked one of his own. "What was it like growing up?"

"Huge house. Pool. Clothes. Motor bikes. All the things that money could buy. A step father who hated me, a mother who loved me and a Sensei who was a monster."

Robby sighed.

At the moment, Kreese was obviously a no-fly zone conversation between the two of them. "I had good friends."

"Pastor Bobby is a cool guy."

"The best," Johnny agreed.

"He came to visit me in juvie," Robby cleared his throat, "a few times. We talked—well he talked, I kinda grunted."

Johnny laughed.

"He brought me books. I—" Robby paused, and his exhalation was shaky. "Can we go see him when we get back?"

"Do you know you're kinda named after him?"

"Kinda?"

His full name is Robert, we called him Bobby. Your name is Robby. See?" Johnny switched lanes, the guy in front of him was moving too slow and driving him nuts.

"Sure," Robby said in a tone indicating he didn't have a fuckin' clue what his father was talking about. "Robby and Bobby rhyme I can see the correlation."

"No one likes a smartass. Hey, it was either that or Swayze. I won."

"Did you flip a coin over naming me?" Robby snorted. "Yeah, that's mature."

Johnny allowed Robby's dig to roll off him, focusing on the music filling the car. "Make this song louder," Johnny begged pointing towards the radio. "Tommy loved this song and would sing the words at the top of his lungs as walked to school. Eye of the Tiger," Johnny sighed. "Good memories. We were all such bad asses." He ignored Robby's exaggerated groan as he began to sing.

"He's the one who died, right? I'm sorry, dad."

"Nah," Johnny swiped away the hurt with a wave of his hand, "Me and the rest of the guys gave him a good sendoff."

Night had fallen and Robby had drifted off. Johnny was awake. Enjoying the car. The road. The good music. His son within touching distance.

They were on an adventure. A road trip. Leaving all the drama behind. He'd find Miguel, bring him home—maybe happy endings didn't just exist in fairy tales, or damn Disney movies.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby jerked awake, not even sure when he'd fallen asleep.

His dad was frantically smacking his leg. "I think the car is ringing."

"Blue tooth," Robby mumbled, rubbing his face, cringing when his hand touched the bruise.

"Blue what?"

Robby hit the green visual of a phone on the display.

/"Robby?"/

"Hi, Mr. LaRusso."

"Hey, LaRusso, why do you sound so surprised?" His dad chuckled to himself, "Did you think Robby and I sold the car, took the money—"

Mr. LaRusso sighed, something Robby was pretty sure the man did a lot when in the company of his dad. /" No, Johnny, the thought never crossed my mind, I just expected you to answer the phone and not—"/

Robby's burst of laughter earned him a scowl from his dad. He cleared this throat and attempted to regain composure. "Dad's driving. Can't do the two things at one time." Robby smiled at Johnny, taking the bite from his comment. "Just checking on the car?"

Silence.

/"No, Robby,"/ came the soft reply, /"was checking on you,"/ another pause, followed by a chuckle. /"And your dad and the car, though not necessarily in that order."/

"We're fine," grumbled his dad. "Even the car. Now can you please hang up, because there appears to some defect that a phone call overrides the music. Robby how do you hang up—"

/"Don't,"/ LaRusso shouted, /"hang up. Robby I'm sending something to your phone. I um booked you and your dad in a hotel about 30 minutes away from where you are."/

"How the hell does LaRusso know where the fuck we are?"

"Tracking device in the car. In the phone." Neither one a comfortable thought, Robby grabbed his cell phone when it pinged. "Got it, Mr. LaRusso."

/"Call me when you get settled, Johnny."/ was all he said before disconnecting.

"Asshole."

The music again filled the car, but Robby was distracted reading the text from Mr. LaRusso. "Dad, can you pull over somewhere—"

"You're kidding me, Robby."

"Forget it," he replied snottily. "I'm putting the instructions into the GPS."

"The what? Where the hell did the music go?"

Robby took a deep breath, silently cursed at how much his ribs hurt and chose the less of two evils. "Never mind. I'm going to tell you where to go, instead of the GPS."

"What hell does that mean GPS?"

Robby couldn't resist. "Gross Parent Stupidity."

xxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, because his dad was incompetent and unable to follow directions, they pulled up in front of Tapatio Cliffs Resort. "Shit," Robby uttered. "I was thinking Motel6 or something." He burst out laughing. "I'm not sure if Mr. LaRusso was worried about his car or us."

"Definitely, the car," his dad agreed as the valet approached them.

Robby awkwardly slid out of the car when the valet opened the door. His dad came around and answered the unasked question. "

"You should see the other guy." He nodded at Robby's face. "We're traveling light," he tossed the keys to the valet. "Can you please have the bags in the trunk brought up to our room, and the two paper bags from the front seat as well."

Robby just blinked at the stranger wearing his father's face and clothes.

"Come on," his dad grabbed his elbow and guided him towards the front door.

"What the hell was that?"

"Rich stepfather, Sid. Only thing that rubbed off was how to live among those who had money."

"Not an endearing quality, dad." Robby was studying the text from Mr. LaRusso. "According to Mr. LaRusso, we're just supposed to go to the front desk, mention his name and everything is taken care of?"

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny had seen his son when anger had stolen his speech. When hurt and disappointment had robbed him of words. But this, was sorta sadly comically. "Is Mr. LaRusso fuckin' crazy?" was all he said, two feet into the main room with the white walls and vaulted ceilings.

"He can afford this."

Robby turned on Johnny. "I know he can afford this." He waved his hand between the two of them. "We can't afford this. Unless we stole an Audi and the credit card of said—"

Whoa this was not the reaction Johnny had been expecting. "Hey, Robby. The guy at the desk didn't even raise an eyebrow at us. I'm sure LaRusso informed him about—" he pointed at Robby's face, "you know. Hell, even our food at the hotel is paid for. Open ended, I think he said."

"I'm wearing ripped sweats and a tee shirt that's seen better days, I can't see out of one eye, and even I wouldn't want to sit next to me in a restaurant."

"So, we'll order room service. No one will ever see you." Gently, he took Robby's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "What's going on?"

"I don't deserve this."

"God, kid, if anyone deserves to stay at least one night in a place like this, it's you. And if it's on LaRusso's dime, even better."

Xoxoxoxoxox

Johnny waited until he heard the shower before calling LaRusso. He walked onto the balcony as the phone rang, closing the door when LaRusso answered.

/"So?"/

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? What you did?"

/"Didn't do it for you, Johnny. Like the car wasn't for you,"/ he calmy replied.

"So, you're giving him what I can't afford to give him? Like you gave Sam a fancy car and Anthony video games?'

/"Jeeze, Johnny get it through your head. This isn't about you. It's about, Robby."/ LaRusso sighed, the sound emanating from his feet all the way through the cell. /"Look at him. Really look. He's hurting. He's exhausted. You're dragging him to Mexico—do you know what you're walking into? What Robby's walking into?"/

"Miguel's father is part of the cartel." Johnny wanted LaRusso to know he'd done his homework.

/"Oh, Johnny. Look, you have the room for three days—"/

"I'm not staying three days, I need to find Miguel."

/"I. I. I. Do you even hear yourself? Miguel is important to you, I know that. In the long run, you're a better person to Miguel than I was to Robby. But, and I want you to hear me, Johnny, for once in your life, put Robby first."/

Johnny really couldn't answer, because, if he studied the situation from Robby's point of view, yeah, his own kid had received the short end of the stick. Every single time. Even when Robby had come to him in an attempt to clean up the mess he'd found himself in, and Johnny had promised to find a way to fix everything, he was incapable of putting Robby first.

Johnny's stomach did a sickening roller coaster roll and he dropped into the nearest chair, speechless. Suddenly remembering for the first time with sickening clarity how his own meeting with Silver had gone. The beat down he'd received. "I-" he mumbled, feeling his hands begin to shake. Finally, understanding what the fuck LaRusso was getting at. "Silver could've killed Robby and I-"

/"He didn't."/

"But he could've, and I would never have-" Johnny stopped, the shower had turned off. "Look, LaRusso, I gotta go." He took a deep breath, "Thanks."

/"Send me the info you have on Miguel's dad, I have connections in Mexico City due to the dealership. I'll see what I can find out. So, your goose chase won't be that wild."/

Slowly, Johnny texted the info Carmen had conveyed, hit send, then planted himself in front of the bathroom door. Impatiently waiting.

Robby jumped and it was only Johnny's quick reflexes that caught his son before he took a header backwards into the bathroom.

"Um-dad?" Robby glanced down at Johnny's death grip on his right arm. "Are you okay?" Robby was straddling the saddle between the doorway and the carpeted hall. floor, confusion evident in his expression.

If Johnny had thought Robby had looked bad earlier, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom, he was a hundred times worse. "Are you okay?" his dad spit back.

"Tired," Robby answered honestly. "Long day."

Gently, Johnny touched the swelling under Robby's eye.

"Hey," Robby said softly. "I'm here. I'm okay."

Johnny raised his eyebrows. "Sure."

"You're creeping me out, you know." Slowly Robby, pushed Johnny's hand away. "You're hovering. Please don't hover."

Johnny raised his hand in surrender and stepped back, as if hovering was the worst offense to be accused of. "Better?"

"Much. Can we order dinner? I'm starving."

Johnny checked his watch, grimaced and hoped the kitchen was still open for room service.

xxxxxxxxxx

Pancakes, eggs and a vanilla milkshake to his dad's T-bone, fries and a beer.

"LaRusso is footing the bill; you should've had a steak." His dad made a show of aggressively slicing the medium rare steak. "It's delicious." The piece was dripping blood and not appealing to Robby at all.

"I like pancakes." Also easier on his jaw to chew, but hell would freeze over before he'd admit that to his dad.

"Me too, but—"

"Wanna find something on cable?"

He tossed the remote towards Robby. "As long as LaRusso's paying, I say go for it. No chick flick, no romantic shit at all—stop."

"Fast and Furious?"

"Perfect. Fast cars. Bad ass guys. Hot women. What more could anyone want?"

"A storyline?" Robby mumbled.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Dad?" Robby asked around a yawn.

"Hmmm?" his father was nursing his beer, attention focused on the large screen TV mounted on the wall.

"Can I ask you a question?" Robby had used the last of the shake to wash down two Advil, his thumbnail scraping along the side of the empty cup.

"Sure." For a second, his dad's gaze slid to Robby, then back to the action on the TV.

Robby rolled his eyes, reached for the remote and hit pause.

"I was watching that," his father whined.

"I just paused it," he explained. "I need you to focus, just for a moment, if that's possible."

"Fine," his father pouted.

Suddenly, Robby felt embarrassed and hesitated.

"Hey, kid, you have my attention, go ahead," his dad prodded, moving Robby's thoughts along with his hands.

Robby sighed. "Silver towered over me, his range far surpassed mine." Robby wasn't tall, and he made up for that shortcoming, hopefully in strength and focus. "For me to deliver any type of contact—I'm too close and therefore spend my time on defense." Robby's laugh was self-depreciating, "and we see how well that worked."

His dad drank the rest of his beer and stared at the empty can in his hand.

"Hey, dad?" Robby reached out, surprised when his touch was shrugged off. "Never mind."

"Can't give you an answer." His dad's voice was whisper soft. "He bested me—"

"As a kid, right?"

"No. Prom. Your prom. With Tory."

"What the fuck? Why would you—"

"Why did you?" His dad countered, waving his hand the length of Robby' body.

"I didn't. I went to talk to Sensei Kreese. Not Silver." Robby stood, tossing the remote at his dad. "I asked a simple question."

Robby was inches from the hallway before his dad answered. "You're right. You asked a simple question, and my answer was derogatory. I made it all about you. I'm sorry."

Robby turned and stared at his father. "Who are you and what the fuck did you do with Johnny Lawrence?"

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny glanced over at Robby, who had reluctantly sat down when Johnny waved him over. "Your mom called me after you and Tory left for the prom, waving a wad of bills in my face. Told me Terry paid for—"

"Just money," Robby insisted.

"You know, kid, if I'm going to be honest, I'd expect the same from you."

"Okay, it was a chance to—" Robby offered an embarrassed, slight smile. "Stick it to the rich kids? Show off? Be an asshole?"

"How'd that work out for you?" Johnny asked, curious. Robby had never been one to be seduced by the newest phone. Or clothes. Cars.

"After the prom we went to house party. Umm… Sam started with Tory."

"Robby—"

"Shit, honest, Sam threw a drink at her. I separated them, Miguel saw me with Sam—and history repeated itself, except we ended up in the pool as opposed me kicking him off a balcony. Remember, this isn't about me, how did you end up with Silver?"

"I wasn't impressed that he approached your mom or manipulated you," Johnny raised his hand at Robby's objection, "call it what you will. That's how I saw it. The rest, as they say is history and not one of my shining moments."

"Did he hurt you?"

No way was Johnny going to be *that* truthful. "My ego, mostly."

Based on Robby's expression, he wasn't buying Johnny's lie, but he didn't push and Johnny didn't pull. "How about you take the movie off pause—"

"You're hopeless." Robby hit one button and the action once again resumed on the screen."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hey," Johnny stood over Robby, gently shaking his knee. Robby's snoring alerted Johnny to how late it was. "Robby," he tried again, louder this time, "chicks don't dig guys that snore."

"Miguel's mom must be deaf then," he answered, then gave Johnny the finger. "Here is fine." He patted the chair with an uncoordinated hand.

"Maybe, but let's try to get you to bed. Too long sitting today, may—"

Robby opened his one functioning eye, glaring at Johnny. "You're not going to shut up until I get up, are you."

Johnny shook his head. "Nope."

His son stood, swayed, angrily waving away Johnny's helping hand. "I got this." And he did, he shuffled like an eighty-year-old man, but he made it to the bedroom on his own.

Now, Johnny didn't take no for an answer and gently guided him to one of the beds. "Wait," he ordered then pulled down the covers.

"I can't," Robby stuttered. "Ribs on one side. Shoulder on the other. How am I going to—"

"Hold that thought." Johnny left him standing there and ran to the other bedrooms and grabbed all the pillows. Arms overloaded he returned, to find Robby staring at the bed, as if it were his worst enemy.

xxxxxxxxxx

This was the third time Johnny had gone to check on Robby, fast asleep, snoring, situated in a nest of pillows.

Proudly, he'd managed to use the remote, turned off the TV and decided, now it was time to go to sleep himself. He stripped down to his boxers and tee and crawled into the bed next to Robby's.

Johnny hadn't expected to sleep, but within minutes he was out.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Shit," Johnny sat up, the time on the bedside clock reading closer to lunchtime than breakfast. "Hey—" but stopped, Robby was still sleeping. He crept out of bed, dressed and kept his noise level down.

Johnny called room service and ordered a complete breakfast for himself, yogurt, granola and cereal for Robby. Coffee, he needed a beer but settled for coffee.

Robby was still sleeping when the food arrived, so Johnny placed the yogurt, the milk for the cereal in the fridge and the tiny container of granola and child-size box of Frosted Flakes on the counter, because that was the fatherly thing to do. He ate his own breakfast, inordinately pleased with his ability to take command of the remote and get the TV to obey.

At twelve, he went in to check once again on Robby, surprised he was still out for the count.

By twelve thirty, he was no longer quiet in the room and by one he'd never been so glad to see LaRusso's name appear on his cell. "Anything?" Johnny asked.

/"Hello to you too, Johnny,"/ LaRusso answered with an exasperated exhalation of breath.

"Yeah. Yeah. Hello. Did you find out anything about—"

/"How's Robby?"/ LaRusso ignored Johnny's question.

"Fine. I think."

/"You think?" Did you lose him?"/

Johnny hesitated, because it was going to sound so darn stupid when he said it out loud. "He's sleeping."

/"And?"/

"For almost fourteen hours. I keep checking to make sure he's breathing, and he is 'cause, damn that kid snores, but he—" Johnny stopped. "Are you laughing, LaRusso?"

/"Yes, I mean, no,"/ he quickly corrected. /"Robby has weird sleep patterns, found that out when he was with us. Four hours a night, five at the most and then when his body had had enough, Robby would sleep almost an entire day away. Hey, I remember the first time he did that, I was positive the poor kid was sick."/

"That's not normal," Johnny objected.

/It is for Robby, I guess."/ LaRusso cleared his throat. /"Robby is a voracious reader, I swear that kid's mind is as active as his body. That's how he kept himself busy on the nights with little sleep."/

"Yeah," Johnny was disheartened, learning about his son from someone other than Shan. LaRusso must've picked up some vibes because he changed the subject.

/"I found out a some information about Miguel's father. It's not good, Johnny. Carmen's right, he's a bad man. I'll text you what I got, but Johnny, be careful. Remember, you have Robby with you—"/

"Thanks, LaRusso. You don't need to remind me about Robby, I'm not that stupid."

LaRusso's silence was enough of a response.

"I'll let you know when we get home—"

/"Tell Robby to—"/

Johnny hung up, no way he wanted to know what LaRusso wanted Robby to do. Pissed, he tossed the cell onto the couch and went back to the bedroom. Now, he touched-Robby's exposed hand. His bruised cheek. His forehead just to make sure he wasn't sick.

Nope. No fever.

Johnny was going to give his son another thirty, no forty minutes then he was going to wake him up no matter what it took. As if someone from above heard Johnny's wishes, Robby's cell range.

Once. Twice. Three times but he still didn't move. Johnny picked it up, answering without even looking at the caller ID. "Hello?"

/"Sensei Lawrence?"/

"Nichols?"

/"Is Robby okay? I tried texting him. Calling, this is the first time someone picked up."/

"Yeah," Johnny answered hesitantly, unsure how much Robby had shared with Tory.

/"You don't sound too convincing. Can I talk to him, please?"/

Tory. Robby. Too smart for their own good. Both with instincts that hadn't always led them in the right direction. "He's umm—sleeping."

There was a pause, Johnny was pretty sure Tory was checking the time. "No, he's not sick. Doesn't have a fever."

/"Sleeping,"/ she giggled, not a sound Johnny usually heard from her. /"Like for hours sleeping?"/

"Something funny about that, Nichols?"

/"Robby pulled that shit on Sensei Kreese, before Sensei Silver, and I swear I never saw the old guy lose his cool. Positive Robby was sick. Even went next door to the mini mart and bought a thermometer."/ She stifled her laughter and cleared her throat. /"How long?"/

"Almost fifteen hours."

Tory whistled. /"Not bad, sixteen was the record. After the first time, Sensei Kreese said nothing and allowed Robby to skip class when it happened."/

"And when Silver showed up?"

/Robby slept at my house. On the couch. Sensei Kreese always covered for Robby. He's not a bad guy, honest, Sensei Lawrence."/

"Let's agree to disagree on that, okay Nichols?"

/"Has Robby mentioned anything about Sensei Kreese? He's not around. And Sensei Silver has been stranger than usual. Asking me how's Robby is. Weird."/

"Weird," Johnny echoed. "I'll let Robby know that you—"

/"Word of caution, Sensei. When Robby finally gets his ass out of bed better have food, water and two Tylenol for him. It's not pretty. Kinda like a bear who wakes from hibernation. Or a toddler."/

Johnny disconnected the call and stared at the cell. Two people. Okay, three counting Tory, three people knew something about Robby's life he wasn't privy to. And two of those people had been his arch enemies up until two years ago. What did that say about how fucked up their lives were? Or how he sucked as a father.

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny kept silent. After putting a bottle of water, cereal and milk, two Advil and the yogurt and granola on the table in front of Robby, he said nothing, until Robby finished inhaling the food.

"Too much sleep?"

Robby groaned. "Yeah. Why didn't you wake me because now I'm—"

"Bitchy?"

If looks could kill, Johnny would be dead. He threw his hands up in surrender. "I tried to wake you. And you know, you snore. Loudly."

"Tory doesn't complain."

"She called by the way, said Kreese didn't come back and Silver's acting weirder than usual."

"You talked to her? On my phone?"

"Next time don't sleep the day away and you can talk to her or at least answer her twenty million texts."

Robby dropped his head against the back of the couch. "I didn't tell her what happened between me and Silver. Figured the less she knows, the safer she'll be. You think I'm right?"

"Yeah, I do," Johnny answered, swelling with pride that his son asked his opinion. "Hey," Johnny said, pushing the envelope. "LaRusso texted me some information about Miguel's father."

Robby stared at him and Johnny felt as if he'd failed some test or something. "I'm going to go shower."

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The shower helped clear the rest of his muddled thought process. Robby hated when his body betrayed him like this, leaving him feeling vulnerable and stupid. The heat of the pulsating shower felt great on his back, but drew a grunt when the water hit his ribs. "Fuck!"

Fuck Silver.

Robby began second guessing his decision to come on this trip to bring Miguel home. Yeah, he admitted he had all this hate for Miguel, but saying those words, confessing his thoughts, didn't make them vanish.

Robby still hated him. Hated the hold Miguel had over his father. The worst part, Robby hated himself for forgetting this road trip wasn't about spending time with his dad, the destination was the focus. Get Miguel. Bring Miguel home.

xxxxxxxxxx

The view from the balcony was breathtaking. Robby sent a thank you text to Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso with pics. His call to Tory went to voice mail, either she was working or at Cobra Kai. With a smile, he sent her a mushy text complete with 'wish you were here' gifs and pictures from the balcony.

There was no room for kata, so he settled for meditation, adapting the breathing for his aches.

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny watched from the balcony doors, studying Robby. Miguel had taught Johnny to care. To grow up. Become an adult. How to act like a parent. Johnny and Miguel had built their relationship on a clean slate. No baggage. No years of failure.

Because of Miguel, Johnny was now able to be the father Robby wanted. Needed.

Robby would never understand that sentiment and Miguel would never understand Robby's place in Johnny's life.

Robby exhaled slowly then turned to Johnny. Even with a horrifically bruised face, his smile was warm. "Sorry about before. Tory told me when I wake up I have the patience and personality of a toddler."

Johnny returned the smile. "She did warn me."

"How about we put on our cleanest tee shirts with no rips and pretend to be civilized and have dinner in the restaurant?" Robby's teeth pulled at his bottom lip, as if trying to rein in a smile.

"I think I have a clean AC/DC tee without holes in obvious places."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Fish?" Johnny closed the menu and handed it to the hovering waiter.

"I like fish."

"You hated fish as a kid."

Robby snorted. "Fish sticks are not really fish. Besides," he poured himself a glass of lemon water from the carafe on the table, "it's not like sushi. I ordered stuffed shrimp."

"And I ordered filet mignon. Hey what do you say we take pictures of our food and text them to LaRusso. And then we can take a picture of the bill—" Johnny called over the water and ordered a beer, taken back when the waiter rattled off their beer menu. "Coors Banquet."

The waiter blinked.

"Never mind," Johnny said ignoring Robby's silent laughter. "Whatever you have on tap as long as the word light isn't after the name because light beer is for—" he jumped when Robby kicked him and he amended his thought process. "Light beer is for people on a diet. I'm not on a diet."

"Good save, Dad."

"Thank you." Johnny reached for a hot roll from the basket of bread that had arrived at their table. He used the tiny plate and cut the roll open, slathering on. a liberal amount of butter. "Hmmmm— hey watcha doing?"

"Texting the picture of you enjoying the roll to Mr. LaRusso."

"Let me see."

Robby turned the phone around and yup, there was Johnny with an expression of satiation on his face, butter dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, jeeze, Robby—"

"Mr. LaRusso wants to know if you're drooling."

xxxxxxxxxx

After the salad, and before the main course Robby talked about Kenny. About Shawn Payne. About juvie and the connection between all three of them. Johnny was perfecting the art of listening, keeping his expression neutral while his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

"Kreese told me that Miyagi Do Karate would garner points in a tournament but basically wouldn't save my ass in juvie. The truth was I was so afraid, Dad, of losing control like I lost in the school fight so I allowed Shawn to beat the shit outta me, tear up my books, unplug the computer when I was using it, take my sheets, pillows, sending me to the infirmary three times a week until I fucking couldn't take looking over my shoulder anymore. And when I attacked, it was all blind fury and we didn't stop until the guards took us both down. I impressed him and scared the crap outta me. And when his brother Kenny was being bullied, Shawn told him to find me. I honestly didn't know Anthony was his bully. I never would've—"

Johnny placed his hand over Robby's. "Can't change the past. Do not be like your old man and allow past transgressions to ruin your future."

"Big words, I'm thinking Mr. LaRusso is starting to rub off on you."

"There's no reason to insult me, kid."

xxxxxxxxxx

Johnny was pleasantly buzzed. He could get used to being with his son. Talking. Enjoying his company. Sharing a meal. "How about dessert?"

Robby hesitated.

"Come on kid, I'm sure LaRusso's dying for dessert. I mean we gave him pictures of an excellent dinner, of course one needs dessert.

The chocolate layer cake was huge and very impressive with whipped cream and shaved white chocolate sprinkling the top. Robby's dish of vanilla ice cream paled in comparison. Johnny took a picture of his cake and hesitated a second before taking a picture of the silver dish with a lone ice cream scoop, with elaborate swoop of his finger he sent dessert to LaRusso.

"Not even whipped cream? Hot fudge? Sprinkles?"

"Tory's brother, Brandon said I was boring because I only ate vanilla ice cream."

"Robby, you are not boring." Johnny laughed as he cut off a big piece of cake, awkwardly maneuvered the cell and snapped a pic of him stuffing the cake in his mouth.

Now it was Robby's turn to laugh when Johnny dropped the phone into the cake.

"Shit," Johnny exclaimed, wiping the chocolate from the screen with the fancy cloth napkin leaving chocolate streaks on the pristine white.

"Can't take you anywhere."

"Hey, isn't that a parent's job, to embarrass their children?" Johnny switched gears as the smile slid from Robby's face. "How old is Brandon?"

"Just turned nine. He's a cool kid."

"Even though he thinks you're boring."

"And he told me I drive like an old lady."

"Eh," Johnny said with a shake of his head, "sorta agree with him there." Johnny took another mouthful of cake. "Does he do karate?"

"Nope. Not even allowed to come to the dojo. Told him I would take him to the skate park, if it's okay with Tory."

"She's a good big sister?"

"Yeah," Robby answered with a nod.

Johnny's phone pinged and he studied the screen. "Robby?"

Dramatically, Robby dropped his spoon into the empty ice cream dish. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Did you send LaRusso a picture of me dropping the phone in the cake?"

"Hey, isn't it the child's job to embarrass their parents?" Robby asked innocently.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby was sitting on the couch in the living area reading, looking up only when his dad tapped his knee. "Hmm?"

His father shook the bottle of Advil in his face.

It was easier to take two with the bottle of water he was given than to argue. Dinner had been good. Comfortable. "Thanks." He toasted his father with the water bottle then put it on the side table.

"Reading? On the phone?"

His dad was a techno idiot. "Yeah, more convenient than carrying around a book. I'm reading IT by Stephen King, a million times scarier than the movie."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

No, Robby wanted to read, in peace. But for all the times he had wanted nothing more than to watch a movie with his dad, for those times, he said "definitely."

And they ended up watching Kill Bill until, with roles reversed, Robby tucked his father into bed.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby was sitting up in bed reading, his dad's snoring keeping him company. "Of all the things I had to inherit from you," Robby tossed a pillow at the bed, smacking his father in the face, "couldn't be your damn height? Had to be your smart mouth and snoring?"

Tory had texted him that she missed his face and she was pulling double shifts at work. Sensei Kreese was still a no show. Kenny was being an obnoxious brat. And his brother, Shawn, was a misogynistic jerk and if he alluded to the size of her breasts one more time, he was going to get up close and personal with the mat. Sensei Silver was being weirder than usual and then in true Tory fashion she began berating Robby for mentioning the skatepark to Brandon because now he was hounding her so would he please text Brandon just to shut him up.

God, he missed her.

Mr. LaRusso had sent him a text asking how he was feeling. Adding to what Mrs. L had said that any book he wanted to download was okay. To please make sure he didn't murder his father, though he would understand if he did. He got why Robby chose to go with Johnny to Mexico and for the thousandth time apologized and he'd like to take Robby to the Greek restaurant he'd loved after he came back to Mexico. Just to talk. And talk. And talk. In true Mr. LaRusso fashion ad nauseum.

Robby texted his mom and in true Shannon Modis operandum received nothing in return.

What stunned him was the next text he received from Sam. In true Samantha LaRusso fashion, there was no apology. Nothing. Just saying how she hated they way their last conversation had gone. Maybe they could talk when he returned.

Maybe he would. Maybe she wouldn't care once her Miguel came home. Maybe time would tell. And maybe he didn't give a shit.

Robby stuck his phone on the charger, gave up reading and closed his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxx

And was still up before his dad. He showered. Packed his clothes. Checked the time, his messages, ordered room service then went to wake his dad.

"Come on," Robby said, shoving the mattress with his knee.

"Ughhh what time is it?"

"Nine thirty. I ordered breakfast. You have time for a shower before food arrives."

"What's your hurry?" his dad groaned sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Time to hit the road and rescue Miguel. Be the superhero his mom believes you are." Robby left the room before his father had an opportunity to respond.

Robby set the table in the suite, not the one in front of the TV. He wanted their attention to be on each other, not on the TV and he sat expectantly, the silver domes covering their breakfast, keeping it hot.

"LaRusso paid for another day," his dad commented as he sat down.

"Just prolonging the inevitable," Robby removed the top to his plate and put it to the side.

"You make it sound like a death sentence. Or walking the plank. Or-"

"Dad," Robby spoke slowly, "I told you I had all this hate for Miguel, saying the words doesn't make those feelings disappear. You do understand, right?"

"You said-"

Robby huffed, annoyed. "Miguel and I, our inability to co-exist is for many reasons. But for me and you to move forward, you have to take Miguel out of our equation." Robby held his hand up as his father sputtered a protest. "Listen, you and I have our own issues. Hoping time and temperament might become our foundation."

"I love you, Robby. I want you—"

Robby sighed, this hurt. A lot. "I know you do. And I know you love Miguel. And I'm not stupid enough to not realize I should be grateful in a way because without him in your life, me and you sitting across the table, sharing a car, a hotel room, would never have been possible. But that's where it ends. You wishing to make us friends, isn't going to work. You are a stumbling block. Sam. Tory. Karate. All of it". Robby waved his hand between the two of them. "To forgive and forget isn't going to happen when we find Miguel. Or on the ride home in the car. It took thirty five years for you and Mr. LaRusso to be able to be in the same room without killing one another. Don't expect a car ride home to be the answer. Or me living with you. I will promise never to be the one to throw the first punch." Robby stared at his father. "What can you promise me?"

"I love you," his father insisted.

Robby shook his head. "I know you do. I know in your own way, maybe you always have." He leaned back in the chair. "Me, you and Miguel? All three of us are only children and we never had to learn to share or play well with others."

"True," his dad answered.

"Miguel's mom loves him unequivocally. His grandma, also."

"Your mom loves you."

"Dad, people who tell me they love me. Or that I matter. Have a strange way of showing their affection. I always seem to end up kicked to the curb. Put out with the garbage."

"I tried to do—"

"The best you could. I know that now. I didn't know that when I was eight or nine or recently," Robby admitted. "I may be wrong, but I thought when you have a kid, you're supposed to put them first." Robby stood up, picked up his plate and threw it in the garbage. "I'll be out on the balcony when you're done."

xxxxxxxxxx

His dad was out on the balcony mere seconds behind Robby. "Eat," Robby ordered, "before it gets cold."

"Tossed the food. We'll do a drive thru when we're on the road."

"Isn't eating in the car against Mr. LaRusso's rules?"

"Yeah, but we won't tell him, will we?"

"Just don't be a slob."

"Robby…"

"Look, Dad."

"No, you look." His dad pulled the second chair around until he was facing Robby. "I let you talk. Now you need to shut up and listen."

"Okay."

"Honestly, sorry to admit it, but everything you said in there, was true. Seventeen years of truths that cannot be fixed in three days, no matter what LaRusso believes."

Robby remained silent and he forced his hands to remain relaxed on his thighs and not curl into fists because words had the ability to hurt as much as punches and kicks.

"The problem is, I'm unsure how to fix this, whatever this is, between the three of us. Miguel pulled me from a bad place and you are my son. I need you both in my life," his dad admitted sadly. "I think I need to speak to Miguel. Set boundaries. He has to understand," his dad held his gaze, "you have to understand."

"I'll try."

"On days or times when trying becomes too much. Or I'm an asshole. Or you feel the need to punch someone outside of a dojo. Talk to me, I promise I will listen."

"Accountable for our actions," Robby paused, "Or inactions."

Between one breath and the next, his dad's calloused hands, cupped his cheek. "This is going to be hard work."

Robby placed his hand over his dad's and smiled. "May it's time you realized I'm worth it."

xxxxxxxxxx

They were close, maybe forty minutes outside of Mexico City. Robby glanced at the littered back seat of the Audi and grimaced. "Let's get the car cleaned before bringing it back, okay?"

"I wasn't the one who got ketchup on the rug," Johnny accused, pointing to the darkened blotch on the carpet by Robby's legs.

"I didn't spill soda in the cup holder. It's all sticky now." Robby touched it. "Eww."

"Well, they shouldn't fill it that high."

Robby yawned.

Johnny mirrored the motion. "Got the address of the hotel LaRusso sent? I swear that man is a frustrated travel agent."

Robby waved his phone. "Yeah, but we're so close, don't you want to –"

"No. I'm tired. You're tired. Learned from experience not to wander into the unknown unless—"

"You're wearing your superhero cape?"

"Enough with the superhero crap, plus, if you must know, I don't do capes. Or tights," Johnny shuddered, "definitely, no tights. Tights and capes aren't bad ass."

"Turn here," Robby instructed. "Only you would be under the mistaken impression that you're more of a bad ass than Batman or Superman."

"Hell yeah," Johnny agreed, tapping on the steering wheel in time with the current eighties tune.

xxxxxxxxxx

Robby was already asleep by the time Johnny came out of the shower. One room hotel, two queen beds, a TV, dresser, and a bathroom with a shower that had a moment of silence for the hot water.

Johnny made himself comfortable in a chair whose upholstery was a throwback from the seventies, scratchy and rough but comfortable enough to relax and have a beer or two.

Robby mumbled in his sleep, turned then grimaced when the movement had awoken some hurt.

Johnny held his breath waiting, but Robby settled back to his original position and began to snore.

"Fuck it, kid," Johnny laughed, raising his beer in salute to his slumbering son, "Tory must really care for you to put up with that."

Johnny drained one, then two and was on his third beer, relaxed enough to sleep when he finished. Preparing for the days ahead. Running scenarios. Getting Miguel away from his father wasn't going to be the hard part. Neither was convincing the boy it was time to come home.

Home would be the challenge. And like all great superheroes Johnny never stepped away from a challenge.

The end