A/N: Hey, R.Jade here. I hope you guys enjoyed the last part of this story, though I have my doubts that you'll enjoy this first chapter installment.

I honestly can't believe I wrote anything this shitty. I'm truthfully embarressed. The first two pages (in other words, the part before anything actually happens) are alright, I guess, but I've always been better at writing thoughts and musings and drabbles than I have been at actual plots. That's not necessarily a good thing. I've slaughtered the characters, too, Raimundo in particular. Either way, I dearly hope that you enjoy it, even if it does suck a great deal.

Again, I don't own XS or anything affiliated with it, blah blah blah. But Raimundo's accent is love.

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CHAPTER ONE: Rolling Along

It didn't take a genius to know that Raimundo was troubled.

A month had passed and still nobody could pinpoint exactly when he had become so distant. This did not except him. He was frustrated to no end, racking his brain for some explanation as to why his mind had been elsewhere. He often found himself, with no plausible explanation, by himself, sitting and thinking in a depressing state of meditation that was hardly kosher in his comrades' opinions. He could only wish he wasn't this way, but wishing doesn't get anyone very far and it certainly wasn't helping the situation.

Neither was that wailing banshee.

With the recent addition of the none-too-cooperative fugitive to the residence of the temple, things had gotten a bit out of hand. She'd been placed in one of the only empty rooms on the premise and, once she'd woken up, she'd taken to screaming and cursing in Portuguese, night and day. Hardly anything had gotten done. Training had come to a screeching halt and chores had been carried out rather sluggishly all day. Every last one of their concentrations had been shattered and they had resorted to sitting around as far away from the commotion as possible, holding their ears. Or, in Raimundo's case, headphones on their highest setting for the past 24 hours. Raimundo certainly didn't take it as a blessing that he was the only one who could understand what she was saying. As a matter of fact, he dearly wished he couldn't, but seeing as Portuguese was his native language, he didn't have much of a choice.

Now he sat, cross-legged and alone, beside the pond in the garden, his music accompanying him as he absently used his element to disturb the water below him. Tiny waves crashed silently against the bank and Rai watched them, his eyes glazed over in his weary state. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately, even before the howling girl had joined them.

Raimundo Pedrosa was quite troubled.

The drone of the screams in the background was vague through the beat of his music. The Argentinean rhythms had commandeered his focus either way, so he didn't pay it any mind. His jumbled thoughts still didn't make any sense, but they were beginning to fall into place, an unknown force in his mind pushing them to lay to rest in the back of his head. It was a welcome change from the recent pattern of his feelings.

Still he couldn't for the life of him identify what the hell was wrong with him and it was beginning to scare him a little. Lying back, he felt the soft impact as his upper body collided with the grass below. He didn't bother uncrossing his legs, staring up at the clear skies, his expression disturbed instead of content, as it normally would have in such a situation.

The trick was identifying exactly what had started it. If he had known, it would have saved him a whole lot of trouble. Unfortunately he had no idea. Everything had been as normal. Admittedly there had been one rather odd showdown that may have had something to do with it, but Raimundo was having trouble understanding why. So he had lost when he should have won. Sure he may have been upset about it for awhile, but there was no reason it would still be affecting him, and it was an improbable and unsatisfying solution anyway. Perhaps it was simply because he had no idea why he had lost. There was no rational reason. It had been Raimundo and Jack Spicer working their way up a hazardous mountain to reach the Shen Gong Wu at the top.

The fact that Rai didn't even remember what Shen Gong Wu it had been was distressing enough. But the reason he had fallen was even more so. They were nearing the top and the Dragon of the Wind had been wearing his element down ridiculously, trying to shoo the opposing wind and cold from his frigid body; growing up in Brazil had never benefited him in these circumstances. His fingers frozen and his boots beginning to slip on the icy rocks below, he was beginning to become desperate, scrambling up as fast as he could, occasionally looking toward his comrades on their pedestal in the distance for support.

He gritted his teeth against the wind and the snow, expelling it from his face by means of his own gusts. The Mantis Flip Coin wasn't helping much, either, but perhaps that was partially his own fault. There weren't many opportunities, seeing as the entire climb was pretty much vertical. Every once in a while, he had been able to jump up a short distance to a distinct overhang and grab hold of it to make his climb that much easier. Needless to say, it wasn't doing much for him.

He remembered thinking that the Golden Tiger Claws would have been a much better bet.

The competition had been neck-to-neck and fierce as they reached the top of the mountain. Side-by-side, refusing to look at one another, Jack and Raimundo had climbed relentlessly, struggling against the harsh elements with determination. The fateful moment had come when a sheet of snow had given way and fallen around them. The pair had pinned themselves up against the mountain, gripping the rocks around them for dear life as their shoulders struggled to keep them solid against the small avalanche.

For a moment they had opened their eyes and, for an even longer moment, they had stared at one another. Raimundo couldn't identify the look on Jack's face; somewhere between victory and defeat, almost as if the both of them were hanging in limbo. It was an expression that, in itself, uttered a wish to start again, a wish not to be here. Raimundo suddenly found himself feeling the same way, yearning for a different place and different time.

It wasn't so strange. For some reason, it wasn't the first time he had felt like that.

It only took a second and, suddenly, Raimundo was falling through the air. All at once, he knew that he had lost. Ever since, the outlook had stuck; he always felt as if he wanted to be somewhere else. It seemed that every time he began something new, eventually it would begin to seem like this. Living and training at the temple was becoming less and less fulfilling as the days passed and Raimundo had no idea why. This was what he'd wanted to do, right? He wasn't so sure anymore. Then again, he'd never been sure of anything.

Chaos was becoming a little too much for him, he decided. That, and the world had thought it a perfectly wonderful idea to punish him for absolutely no reason at all. It was hardly fair, but as he'd always been told, life wasn't fair, was it? But then, why couldn't he handle a little fallout like this? He was only arguing with himself and it was going to get him nowhere; he already knew that.

Finally, Raimundo stood up, running a hand through his dark hair in the process. Removing his headphones, he was struck full force with the ridiculous volume of the captive's screams. This was getting downright stupid; something had to be done before they all went insane. The first step, however, was to find the rest of the Xiaolin dragons and regroup the non-strategy of ignoring the girl that seemed to be proving quite ineffective. They weren't going to get anywhere if they didn't cooperate.

He found them inside the temple outside the girl's room, speaking anxiously in hushed tones to one another. They turned at the heavy sound of his footsteps as he carelessly approached them, hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes traveled their uneasy faces. All three of their expressions changed to ones of forced greeting, their smiles somewhat distorted as the girl in the room continued to shriek incessantly.

"If we don't shut her up soon, I'm going to start screaming." Kimiko Tohomiko whined, clasping her hands over her ears in exasperation. "I can't understand a word she's saying!"

"It sounds like a coyote stuck in a bear trap in December." Clay Bailey added with a frown, glancing toward the door.

"I cannot take it any longer!" Omi finished, his hands over his ears as well.

Raimundo sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he found himself becoming briefly overwhelmed. It took only an instant for him to recover and he reopened them again, looking at Kimiko, to Clay, to Omi, then back to Kimiko. "It's Portuguese." he muttered, looking suddenly to his right, studying the wall with newfound interest.

"What?" Kimiko shouted, eyes squinted in confusion.

"She's speaking Portuguese!" Raimundo repeated, this time louder so he could be heard over the screaming.

"You mean you understand the little lady?" Clay asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I understand her. Portuguese is Brazil's national language. I grew up speaking it." Raimundo replied with a shrug.

"Do you think you can shut her up?" Kimiko shot, glaring at Raimundo as if he should have come up with the plan in the first place. He would have reacted more fiercely if he hadn't reminded himself that she knew nothing of the muddle of thoughts he so recently had going through his head. He found he didn't want her to know. He didn't want any of them to know, for reasons he could not understand.

Raimundo shrugged again, hands still hanging limply in his pockets. "Whatever." he said as he made his way to the door and slipped inside the room. His greeting was exactly as could have been expected; the girl paused for only a moment before resuming the screaming of obscenities, rushing toward him, looking as if she wanted to tear his head off. Raimundo reacted casually, lifting his hand. A strong yet half-hearted gust of wind blew her backwards and she landed with a grunt on the cot behind her. At least she was smart enough not to try it again, he thought, locking eyes with her for a moment and raising an eyebrow as if to dare her to.

The renegade crossed her arms defiantly, glaring at him with dark Spanish eyes. As Raimundo began to speak in Portuguese, she stopped him, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't be stupid. I speak English." she snapped, shaking her head at him as if he were the most dim-witted person she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Fine then." he replied, his tone equally as rude. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Tell me yours, first."

He didn't know if it was particularly smart not to argue, but either way, he decided against it. "Raimundo, or Rai, I guess."

For a moment, she stared at him suspiciously. Eventually, however, she answered, however shortly. "I'm Morela." Promptly, she turned from him as if the conversation is over, propping her shoulders on the wall behind her, bending her knees, and placing her feet on the cot. He allowed her to stare at the wall for a few moments, simply watching her. Well, at least she had stopped screaming. Somehow, however, she wasn't getting any less annoying.

Finally, Morela sighed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Listen, we both know I was after your Shen Gong Wu, or whatever the hell it is, so I'm not going to deny anything. I just need to get to Portugal, that's all. I'll leave you alone if it's that important—"

"How did you know about Wu?" Raimundo interrupted finally. She didn't exactly seem like the type that would be trying to steal it. He wasn't sure what a Shen Gong Wu thief looked like exactly, except for maybe Jack Spicer, but she just didn't seem like one. Something told him she wasn't exactly sure what she was doing.

"I have my sources, that's how." she snapped back defensively, casting a glare at him. At this point, Raimundo had to admit he was intrigued. Whoever it was, he didn't doubt for a moment that he knew them.

"Like who?"

Morela flinched slightly, looking quite annoyed at his curiosity. "Like it's none of your business. Listen, are you going to let me go or not?"

Raimundo shook his head and leaned against the wall to his right. "Are you kidding me? Why do you have to get to Portugal anyway?"

"Good Lord!" the girl shouted in exasperation, throwing her arms in the air. "I'm in trouble, okay? That's all. As I said, none of your business!" She crossed her arms and looked away from her, again obviously wanted to be done with the conversation. Raimundo, however, was far from it.

"You know, it kinda helps to know what you're up to. I wanna know if you're gonna kill me in my sleep or something." he replied matter-of-factly, smirking.

"Not you… Jason Parsons." she muttered, her face suddenly encased in the shadows of the reawakened emotions. Raimundo took a step back; she looked positively furious, nearly murderous.

"Huh?" The reply was rather unintelligent, Raimundo would note later, but it was really the only reaction he could have come up with on such short notice. Was she in fact admitting that she'd committed a murder or was he just deaf?

"Nothing. What do you need from me? Money? Huh? Just tell me what the hell you need and let me go. I can't stay here forever." she snarled. Raimundo could tell she was reaching the end of her rope; he wasn't sure whether it amused or scared him. It was by relieving coincidence that an idea found its way to his head at that moment.

"No, we don't want your money." he said coolly, a grin curling his lips. "But you may be able to help us out with something else."