Author's Note: I absolutely adore this anime. Yor and Loid are the cutest couple ever! Adding Anya to the mix only heightens the level of adorableness of their family. However, this fic is about her baby brother Yuri. It begins at the end of the scene in episode nine when an injured, drunken, and angry Yuri stumbles away from his sister's apartment.

Yuri ran down the steps of the apartment building and staggered into the street. Although he wanted to continue running, the alcohol would not allow him. He wanted to get away from his sister's new husband as quickly as possible.

New. Lloidy wasn't exactly new. They had been married for a year. Yuri seethed with fury. How could Yor have gotten married and not told him? Worse yet, she had neglected to tell him about her marriage for an entire year. He had no idea she had been dating someone much less gotten married!

And how dare that insolent jerk try to ingratiate himself to Yuri. The anger inside of him boiled and burned like a lava in a volcano waiting to erupt.

"What lovely siblings. You have always been there for each other. I have no doubt you have been through many hard times. Thank you, Yuri, for always protecting our wonderful Yor. But I am her husband now, and it is my job to protect her. You don't have to worry so much anymore. We should work together to make her as happy as possible."

All those pretty words that man had spoken. Puh! Rubbish!

Yor had slapped him taking up for that man. Not just once but twice! She hit him with such powerful force she knocked him into the wall both times. He hugged himself with one arm, laying his hand against the ribs she had broken by giving him such a strong embrace when he was a child. His body filled with warmth. He would never love another woman on this entire earth as much as he loved his sister.

The blood streaking Yuri's face had started to dry making his skin feel tight and crusty. The wound on the back of his head was still spurting, dribbling through his hair and down the back of his neck. Yor's second hit had been even harder than the first.

Staggering down an alley, he glanced around in confusion. Where the hell am i? He really shouldn't have drank so much, but he had no idea how to deal with the sudden and shocking news of her marriage. Actually meeting the man, almost seeing him kiss his dear sister right in front of him, had been more than he could bear.

Two men with long hair dressed in jeans and leather were walking a few yards in front of him. Shady characters most likely up to no good because who else would be strolling down the backstreets at this time of night? Besides him of course. He had no fear of these men. He could protect himself, even kill them if he had to.

"Excuse me," Yuri called out.

"Huh?" the men grunted, turning to look at him. They cried out in horrified unison, both startled by the bloody man.

"Can you tell me which way to go to get to the station?"

"Why the hell are you covered in blood?" asked one man.

"What happened to you man?" queried the other.

Both looked extremely concerned and terrified all at once with their eyes bugging out of their heads while shrinking back from him in fear.

"I'm fine," Yuri insisted. "I just need to know which way to go to get the subway."

"Go to the hospital!" they shouted at him.

"I'll be fine. Please, the directions?" he requested, weariness settling over him. He just wanted to get home to sleep off the alcohol and the trauma of the night's events.

"That way." The men pointed to the left.

"Thank you." Yuri stumbled forward, passing between them.

"He really should go to the hospital," one of the men murmured as they stared after him.

"I hope he will be okay," mumbled the other.

The jaundiced yellow light of the street lights ahead guided him forward. He stumbled a few times tripping on his own feet.

Damn you Lloid Forger, he growled inwardly.

Somehow he made it down the steps to the subway platform without taking a tumble due to his intoxication. A few random people were waiting for the late night train as well.

A young woman sat on a bench reading a book with a worried expression pinching her face. She occasionally scribbled notes on a small note pad in her lap. Most likely a student returning home after a late night cram session.

A woman wearing an extremely short skirt and really tall high heels stood beside a man in a business suit. Though her arm was linked through his and there was a wedding band on his finger, he was most definitely not her husband. He looked nervous, glancing around furtively.

"Hmph," he snorted, staggering forward a few steps.

His sister's marriage had to be fake too. That was the only explanation for her betrayal. He needed to know more about this Lloid Forger. Forger. Even his name sounded dubious. A forger is a person who makes fraudulent copies or imitations. The man had to be a spy. How had he tricked poor innocent Yor into an imitation marriage?

A teenaged boy listened to the music on his head phones while standing very close to the tracks. His eyes were closed, his hands cupping the headphones covering his ears. He was shutting out the world and few stray souls around him. Only the music existed for him.

Yuri wished he could escape the torment eating away at his heart and making his gut churn with sickening intensity. He would prove Lloid Forger to be a fake and the nefarious spy he is, locking him away, and saving his sister. His face heated with a blush. He would be her hero!

"Do you need help?"

Yuri jumped, whirling around, almost falling on his ass.

Shit! How the hell did she sneak up on me?

His head continued to spin around though his body no longer moved except to sway uncertainly from side to side.

A woman he had not seen previously seen, or heard, stood in front him. It must be the alcohol dulling his senses that prevented him from sensing her presence behind him. The emotional punch in the gut he had received courtesy of his beloved sister was keeping him distracted as well.

The woman's big eyes the color of a good brandy blinked at him.

"Are you all right?"

"How could she do this to me?" he whined, dissolving into tears. He really shouldn't have drank so much.

"Of course you're not okay," the woman murmured, rummaging in the large black bag hanging on her arm.

She pulled out a handkerchief and extended it to him. When he did not take it, she stepped forward, pressing the cloth to his cheek.

Yuri recoiled, swinging his head away from her. His eyes were drawn to her mouth where her white teeth caught her pink bottom lip.

"Get away from me!" he yelled, momentarily drawing the attention of the other people waiting on the platform.

"You really should go to the hospital. You're bleeding terribly." She lifted her hand as if to take another swipe at the blood then thought better of it.

"I'm fine," he stubbornly grumbled, glowering at her.

Taking a step toward him, she offered the already bloody hanky to him. "At least take this."

"Thank you." He dabbed at the sticky blood on the back of head caking his hair together in a solid disgusting mass.

The woman passed him to get closer to the tracks. Yuri stared at her back to occupy his mind. Tall, long legged, and slim. She looked like a model. And a little like his dear Yor. But no woman could ever be as beautiful as her.

This kind stranger had long jet black hair, smooth and shiny, like his sister's. Unlike his sister, she wore it down, the razor sharp flat bottom edge hanging precisely in the middle of her back. She was wearing a white leather trench coat and modest black pumps with three inch heels.

The rumbling of the train making it's way to the station started to vibrate through the concrete under their feet. They could hear the grind of metal against metal, the wheels against the track, as it came closer. Finally, the hiss and squeal of the brakes alerted them the train had arrived several seconds before it came into view. The doors slid open but no one got off.

The boy with the headphones was polite, waiting for the good Samaritan to enter the car first. The student snapped her book shut, cramming it and the notebook into her backpack to hurry into the second car of the waiting train. The couple got into the third car.

Yuri stumbled forward, pretty much taking a controlled fall into the first compartment onto the seat. Looking straight ahead of him, he saw the woman sitting across from him. She ignored him, taking a book out of the tote bag.

How much stuff does she have in there?

He glanced back at the music lover. The boy had pulled the head of his sweatshirt up, once again closing his eyes to lose himself in his own world made of melody and lyrics.

The train lurched forward, jolting him sideways, his body sliding across the slick seat a few inches. The woman's leather coat seemed to keep her in place, her torso swaying slightly with the sudden movement of the train. Her eyes never left her book. She had bangs like Yor that brushed the tops of her perfectly arched eyebrows over those brown liquor colored eyes, a shade or two lighter than his sister's gorgeous eyes.

Yuri pressed the handkerchief to the back of his head, closing his eyes. His very skull throbbed with the pain which radiated from the spot where the crown of his head smacked the wall. He could hear his heart drumming in his ears. The anger and adrenaline had prevented him feeling the pain before which overtook him with a vengeance. The pain of his body could never match that of his heart.

He didn't need to go to the hospital. He had received worse injuries without seeking professional medical attention. All he needed was a shower, a few bandages, and some pain meds. By morning, he would be fine and ready for work.

Louisa covertly watched the peculiar and terribly drunk man while pretending to read her book. He had been a frightful sight, covered in blood, staggering down the sidewalk. She had followed him into the subway station, holding her breath the entire time he was making his way down the stairs hoping he would not take a nasty fall. He was already injured enough.

She sighed in exasperation. Why did she care about a stranger? Especially one covered in blood. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. But serial killers were always covered in the blood of their victims, not their own. The seeping wound on the back of his head was evidence he was the one who had been assaulted. He obviously needed help but for some reason refused to seek it or accept it when someone offered.

Through the gore covering his face, he looked quite cute, downright boyish. The chin length bob haircut in which he styled his coal black hair only furthered his youthful appearance. His brown eyes looked hollow not just devoid of emotion. How could someone so young be so dead inside?

Despite his sinister eyes and angry outburst, her ridiculous need to help others when hurting had spurred her to push past her misgivings to try to aid him. Apparently some major emotional upset had spurred him to seriously tie one on. He most likely got into a good old fashioned bar brawl while trying to numb the numb. Sometimes physical pain is easier to endure than emotional.

Turning her attention away from her thoughts and back to the mysterious drunkard, she noticed he appeared to be asleep. His eyes were closed, his head leaned against the wall behind him. His hand and her handkerchief were still pressed to the crown to stop the bleeding.

She gnawed her lower lip pensively. It wasn't good for someone with a head injury to fall asleep.

Louisa put her book away. Debating with herself as to whether she should bother getting herself anymore involved with this weirdo wino, she gripped the bench under her while staring at the man.

"Dammit," she muttered, moving quickly to take a seat beside him. "Sir, are you feeling okay?"

Rather than receiving an audible reply, her answer came when he flopped over onto her. His head landed in her lap, blood streaking her snow white coat. Nope not okay at all.

"Ugh," she groaned, wanting to be angry with him but mad at herself instead.

She should have just left well enough alone. Soon they would be reaching the station. What would she do then? She gazed down at the bloody drunk sleeping in her lap. He looked even younger while asleep. He was truly helpless now.

Louisa had an obligation to him, an oath she had taken. I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings...*

"Shit," she grumbled, pressing her fingers to her temples to massage away the ache behind her eyes.

What was she supposed to do? She couldn't very well leave him here. His injuries needed to be treated, and he had passed out from the alcohol leaving himself in an incredibly vulnerable position.

There was no other option than to take him to her place. Thankfully, she did not live far from the station. Never before had she been so happy to live in a bottom floor apartment of a four story walk up apartment building.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," she said as they approached the station.

"Hmmm?" he groaned. "Five more minutes, Yor, please."

Yor? Is that his wife? She glimpsed down at his left hand. No wedding ring nor the tell tale line of where one had been. Girlfriend?

"Who's Yor?" she asked not expecting an answer but getting one.

"My sister. My dear sister. How dare she betray me this way," he moaned in a trembling voice as if he was getting ready to cry. "She went and married some damn man behind my back. I won't forgive that man for stealing my sister away from me. He can't love my sister the way I do."

Okay that was weird. And a bit disturbing.

Must be the alcohol. And the bump on the head, Louisa reasoned to make the nausea go away. However, she could not shake the feeling he should not love his sister like he does either.

The brakes brought the train to a stop with metallic shriek and a whiplash inducing jerk. The man slid from her lap. His head sounded like a hollow coconut when it thwacked the hard seat.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands after blurting the curse word.

"That was a good one, Yor," he mumbled, sitting up with the cloth still clutched to his head. His head swung from side to side, his brown eyes dull and hollow with confusion. "What the hell? Where am I? What happened?"

"You're drunk and injured. We're on a train," she answered matter of factly to his questions.

"Please disembark the train. This is the last stop. Please exit," the conductor announced. He wanted to hurry them off since they were the last ones aboard and keeping him from going home.

"Time to get off," she said, standing up in an effort to get him on his feet. "There's a police station nearby. I can drop you there, and they will call for - "

"No, thanks," he cut her off with pig headed determination. He stood to his unsteady feet. "I'm fi - "

His knees buckled sending him back down to his recently vacated seat with a resounding thud onto the thick plastic.

"Damn it all," he grumbled.

"You are most certainly not fine," she huffed, leaning down to him. Grabbing his arm, she forced it onto her shoulders. "You need help whether you like it or not."

"Okay, okay. But you have to take me to your place," he muttered in defeat, slurring his words.

"But I - "

"Please, no cops, no hospital," he begged. Although is words were soft and pleading, his eyes were hard as marbles and dead serious.

"Did you kill someone?" she asked bluntly.

"Not yet," he replied without hesitation, a sinister smile slowly stretching his lips.

All rightie then. Such abnormal behavior. Schizophrenic, maybe, she surmised, her gut tumbling with apprehension. Something was not right about this man, but as a doctor she had an obligation to help. As a psychologist, she found him intriguing despite his scary demeanor.

"Come on then," she said, pushing up with her knees to drag him upward. "But you've got to help me help you. I can't carry you."

Louisa struggled under the oppressive weight of the man leaning on her. Although thin, he had a deceptively heavy body mass. He must have a lot of muscle packed onto his lanky frame. She staggered slightly when lifting her foot to put it on the bottom step for the climb up to the street.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Louisa Eleazor. And yours?"

"Yuri Briar."

"I would say nice to meet you, Yuri Briar, but..." She allowed her words to trail off.

"Yeah. It's been weird. But I didn't ask for your help," he reminded her.

So ungrateful!

The chilly night air hit them in the face when they reached the street. Louisa inhaled the cool air deeply. It felt good on her cheeks that had heated from exertion. The breath of fresh air seemed to sober him a little, enough for him to support more of his own weight.

Gripping his hand hanging limply over her shoulder to hold onto his arm should he try to slip off, Louisa steered him toward her apartment house only two blocks from the train station. When they reached the building, she paused to gaze at the four cement stairs leading up to the front door. With a sigh, she held onto his waist tighter pulling him against her side to get him up the stairs.

"You're strong," he commented when she reached the stop step of the stoop.

And your skinny ass is heavy as hell, she griped inwardly.

"Thanks," she panted, winded from almost carrying him.

At the door, she struggled to hold onto him and fish her key out of her bag. When he almost fell, threatening to roll down the small flight of stairs onto the sidewalk, she eased him over to the side to sit him down on the wide concrete handrail the older residents used as a seat to people watch and gossip in the evenings and Sunday mornings.

Unlocking the main entrance door, she ran inside to also unlock the door to her apartment. Tossing her purse and keys onto the table inside, she hurried back outside to fetch her wounded, drunken patient.

Yuri had slumped over, his cheek pressed against the brick wall. His mouth hung open. At first she thought he had fainted. Before panic could set in, he emitted a loud snore indicating he was only asleep.

"Dammit," she muttered, pressing the heel of her hand against her aching forehead.

Bending at the knees, Louisa stooped in front of him. Sliding her arms under his, she enclosed his torso in an awkward hug to lift him and drag him into her apartment. The neighbors would have a lot to talk about tomorrow if they saw this. To see a single woman hauling an unconscious, blood covered man into her place was more than unseemly - it was downright scandalous.

She unceremoniously dropped him onto the brown leather couch in her living room. She was tired, coated with blood, and regretted her decision to the right thing to help this man. He groaned and fell over, lying on his side.

"But you needed help," she sighed.

Going to her bathroom, she grabbed the medical kit from under her sink as well as towels and washcloths. As she passed through the living room, she placed the large box on the coffee table in front of the couch. He was asleep again. She let him sleep, doubting he had a concussion since she was able to rouse him to consciousness quite easily.

In the kitchen, she filled a bowl with warm water. After pouring him a glass of water, she returned to the living room.

The first thing she took out of the kit was two white tablets for the pain. Managing to wake him by calling his name, she handed him the pills and the water.

"Take those," she said, assisting him with sitting up.

"Are you trying to poison me?" he asked, eyeing the pills suspiciously.

Louisa glared at him in disbelief. She could not be more offended. Insolent little shit. His boyish good looks hid a devious and paranoid mind. Who does this guy think he is?

"Yes. I went through all of the trouble to drag you here, ruining my favorite coat in the process, and thoroughly inconvenienced myself to kill a total stranger. They're for pain, you idiot. Take the damn pills," she ordered him.

"Y-yes, m-ma'am," he stuttered, tossing them into his mouth then drinking the entire glass of water. He exhaled a satisfied sigh then wiped the back of his mouth with the sleeve of his coat.

After soaking one of the washcloths in the water, she squeezed it out and handed it to him. He could do the honors of wiping the blood from his face himself. She needed to set to work getting that mess out of his hair in order to evaluate the severity of that wound.

"Ow!" Yuri exclaimed when she pressed the cloth to his head in order to break up the hardened dried blood.

"Don't be such a baby," Louisa snapped, pulling to strip the blood from the wad of hair.

Yuri gritted his teeth to avoid making anymore noises. He was a member of the Secret Police dammit, and he was bringing shame to himself by being such a wimp. He tortured people for God's sake yet here he was whimpering like a pitiful child. But the pain in his heart made the physical pain so much more difficult to deal with. Especially since both were inflicted by his dear Yor.

His eyes flickered up to the woman's face as she struggled to remove the blood from his hair. At first she had been so sweet and kind, soft spoken like his sister. But she had become impatient, demanding; cursing too much and ordering him around. His belly fluttered in way he did not expect when she pulled his hair and snatched his head back causing a brief searing bolt of hot pain to shoot down the back of his neck.

"Ungh," he groaned, his mouth dropping open. He panted lightly, his eyes meeting hers when she looked down at him while hovering above him.

"I'm sorry," she apologized gently, her fingertips resting against his cheek. "I'm not trying to hurt you worse. I'm really not."

"You're not," he snapped to salvage his pride.

Louisa exhaled noisily to express her exasperation. This man was trying her patience, and she worked with literal children all day long.

"Do you need more water?"

"Yes...please."

Louisa took the bowl of red tinged water and his glass to the kitchen to refill both. Upon returning, she found him sitting up straight, doing his best to wipe more of the blood out his hair.

"Here," she said, reaching out for the bloody cloth and exchanging it for the glass of water.

Yuri sipped the water, watching her every move now that he was a little more sober. She moved deliberately as if she knew he was scanning her for any hint she might intend to cause him harm. She could very well be an enemy assassin sent to intercept him during this weak moment and annihilate him.

"Why would you help me?" he inquired as she continued to clean the wound.

"Because I'm a doctor. I'm obligated to help," she answered matter of factly. "There. I think that's good enough."

Louisa tossed the bloody cloth into the dirty water, wiping her hands on one of the clean towels. She opened a compartment in the medical kit to take out the needle resembling a fishhook and the black thread for sutures.

"What kind of doctor?" he inquired, watching her expertly attach the thick thread to the needle.

"A psychologist," she replied, kneeling beside him on the couch.

"Oh, no," he muttered, bemoaning his fate. Out of all the people to run into. Another head doctor like that man.

"What's wrong? I'm quite capable of administering a few stitches. All doctors are trained to handle minor emergencies. This is going to hurt," she warned him, not bothering to lie and sugar coat it.

"You've got quite a bad gash. What happened?" Louisa asked, examining the separated flesh carefully one more time before inserting the needle.

"It doesn't matter," Yuri muttered. "OW!"

Yuri hissed as the needle penetrated the skin of his scalp. It burned like fire when she dragged the needle through to pulled the edges of the gaping wound together. When were the pain pills going to work?

"Doesn't it get boring sitting around listening to people talk about their feelings all day? Don't you get tired of hearing them whine about their pathetic little lives which they do nothing to change?" he inquired, trying to distract himself from the less than pleasant prickling sensation in his scalp.

Wow, Sis gave me a really good wallop, he thought, his face heating and his belly tumbling with exhilaration.

"I work as a counselor at prestigious school. That's a very rude and cynical view to take toward people who need help," she chided him, tugging on the thread more vigorously than she really needed to.

His body stiffened, and she could hear his teeth grinding in an effort to withhold any noise in reaction to the pain.

"Hmmm, fascinating," he mumbled, draining the glass of water.

"Everyone needs help at some time. Look at you," she snapped, sliding the sharp point of the needle into his skin. "What is it you do, Mr. Briar?"

"I work at the foreign ministry. I'm a diplomat," he told her.

"Hmmm, fascinating," she returned mockingly using his own words.

He grunted, his face contorting with anger which made the bruise emerging on his cheek pulsate with pain.

"There," she stated with finality, tying off the last stitch. "All done."

"I will be going then," he said, attempting to stand up.

His legs were like wet noodles, his knees immediately buckling to send him crashing back down onto the couch.

"I really should go." His voice was weak barely above a whisper. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. Stop being so paranoid," she muttered, picking up the bowl and filthy towels.

There were two of her, sashaying side by side across the wooden floor until she disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. Yuri felt more than little woozy so he leaned back onto the couch rather than trying to get up again. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the designs hammered into the copper tile begin to move and oscillate as if he were looking through a kaleidoscope. The pain meds must be kicking in.

His body slid along the back of the couch until he was laying on his side. His bleary eyes blinked slowly. It was taking more effort each time to open them back up.

He watched the woman who called herself Louisa and her ghostly doppelganger approaching him as he lay on the couch. His brain told him to move, but his body refused to cooperate.

is this the end?, he pondered when she bent over him. Is this how I die? Pathetic. This is what happens when I let my guard down for one second. It's all your fault, Yor.

Louisa picked up his foot, sliding off his shoe then repeating the process with the other foot. Once his legs were up on the couch, she took the blanket from the back and lay it over him.

Gazing down at him, she contemplate what kind of man she had brought into her home. Who is he? What kind of job does he actually have? Although if he really is a diplomat, that would explain how he could afford the expensive suit he was wearing.

What had he done in his life to warrant such paranoia? Did he have so many enemies he could not trust the kindness of a stranger? His paranoia was off the charts. Then there was that sister thing.

She watching him force his eyes back open. Strong willed. Stupidly strong willed. Why is he fighting the side effects of the pain medication so hard?

"Give in to it," she urged him, stroking his cheek with the backs her fingers.

"S-s-s-stop...don tush me. Mmmph," he groaned. His tongue was thick and clumsy in his mouth, tripping over his words then refusing to form them at all.

"Get some sleep, Yuri," she told him, her voice low and hypnotic. Her fingers drifted down his neck raising goosebumps in their wake.

When her roaming fingers grasped the knot of his tie, a surge of adrenaline spurred him to move. Seizing her wrist, he twisted it back intending to break it. Instead, all he managed to do was snatch her forward, pulling her down on top of him.

Louisa held her breath when she found herself nose to nose with the good looking young man. Her breasts were flattened to his chest which rose and fell fast under her.

"I will kill you if you try to hurt me," he threatened her, grinding the words through his clenched teeth.

"Charming," she muttered, not fazed by the threat. "It's a good thing you're cute."

Suddenly whatever she had given him overtook his momentary burst of energy brought on by the well honed fight aspect of his survival mechanism. Yuri moaned plaintively, his fingers releasing her wrist. As she pushed herself up, enabling him to inhale a complete breath, his entire body went limp.

"Good night, Yuri. Sweet Dreams."

His valiant fight was over. His eyelids weighted with the drowsiness of the drug closed preventing him from opening them again.

Author's Note: Excerpt from Wikipedia of the translation of the Hippocratic Oath taken by physicians in any medical field.