CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Victor moved to pick the unconscious man up in his arms and carried him inside, back the way Yuri and Yurio had just come, and set him down to rest on the benches just within the doors. Yurio had wordlessly moved off to find the first aid kit and came back shortly thereafter, giving it to their coach so he could tend to Victor's wounds.

"I'm not even going to ask what the hell you got yourself into." Yurio said stiffly, "But please tell me you at least popped the other guy."

Victor smiled and looked at his ravaged knuckles, "...Well, I got him once, at least."

"That'll do."

Yakov cleaned the blood away with gauze and some peroxide, "The cuts aren't too deep, but you should see someone about stitches."

"Not happening. Stitches cause scars. I didn't need any last time."

"But your eye..." Yakov argued, turning away to get some skin closures from the kit, "You won't be able to use it for a while. It's the same side he hit last time."

"I know."

"Do you want to cancel your spot at Worlds?"

Victor shook his head, gently stroking Yuri's where he held it in his lap, "No, I'll be fine by Worlds. I'd rather go and be in last place than skip one more competition."

Yuri seemed to slowly rouse again, and he gradually opened his eyes, looking up blearily to where Victor was looking down at him. The sight of his swollen, red eye made Yuri blanch again, but he pushed himself to sit, and really looked at it. Victor's hair had been pulled back so Yakov could more easily clean and dress the wounds, so it was more striking than before - especially in the indoor light - but at least Yuri expected it so it didn't shock him as much as it had previously.

There were a thousand things Yuri wanted to say, but words weren't forthcoming. All he could think to do was drape his legs off the opposite end of the bench and wrap his arms around his partner. He leaned in to put his forehead on Victor's chest, and clung to it like he thought the man would slip through his fingers if he didn't. Victor just held him in turn, quietly consoling him as Yakov finished putting the last skin closures on the few cuts around his eye and cheek, "It's fine now." The battered Russian said in a whisper, "It's over..."

.

Yakov only tenuously allowed Victor to drive himself home after everything that had happened, and he only did that after checking his vision several times with the good eye closed. Grumbling the whole while however, he watched as Victor took Yuri back to his own car and started to drive away from the ice rink.

The ride was relatively silent. Yuri still had difficulty believing the injuries Victor had sustained. Every time he glanced over at the man, he was looking at the right side of his face, and from that angle, looked perfectly normal...but then he'd see his right hand on the steering wheel and saw the cuts and red scrapes on his knuckles, and he'd be reminded of how real it all was.

I can never live this down... He thought, terrified, hands clenched on his lap, What have I done...? I should've listened to him and just butt-out.

Victor glanced over quietly. He really didn't know what to say. Other than to complain about how much his cheek and eye hurt, as well as everything else that had been abused, he couldn't think of anything. In his genius though, he managed to figure out some words, "...You're not going to ask what happened?"

Yuri's voice was already ragged and cracked, but he did his best to hide it anyway, "...I can see what happened. What more is there to ask about?"

There was no answer for that, and Victor went quiet again. He lowered his gaze to the wheel and looked at his scraped knuckles; it unnerved him how much damage his hand took despite only landing one hit. He flexed his fingers, feeling each tendon crack in protest, and for lack of knowing what else to do, he lowered his palm to his partner's thigh. He felt the man's whole body twitch in surprise, and he gave the spot a gentle squeeze, "I didn't want to make things worse." He said simply, "...I already scared you once because of an unexpected hospital trip. I couldn't do it again."

"Tell me Yakov at least tried to make you go."

"He drove me right up to the ER doors, and I told him if he didn't keep driving, I'd steal his car and make him walk home."

Yuri hissed an unwanted, tense laugh, and shook his head to make it go away. The stinging pain in his eyes, nose, and throat was getting unbearable. He knew he couldn't keep his bearings for much longer, and indeed, when he felt a finger trying to coax his locked-up fists to unravel, that first stuttered breath came loose, and all the tears he had dammed up behind it came with it. He choke a breath and clenched his eyes shut, head held low in shame, fists balled-up even tighter than before, "You should never have listened to me." He managed, "I should have shut my big stupid mouth when you said you didn't want to go. But you did anyway, because of me, and now you're hurt, and it's all my fault." He sobbed, and brought up his hands to his face, covering it as his whole body cringed, "I don't know how you can ever trust me again. I nearly got you killed."

"Yuri, you didn't-"

"But I did though!" He barked despondently, and pulled away from the hand as far as he could, squashed against the passenger door like the car was filling with water, "I'm the dumb idiot who kept pushing for you to give it a chance, like I had any business commenting on what you went through as a kid! If I had just taken your word for it and left well enough alone, we'd be in Hasetsu right now!"

"You thought it was the right thing to do. Even Yakov was ready to give it a chance. If nothing else, it was his fault, if we have to blame anyone other than the real culprit here...me."

"You were the only one who was right..."

"And you told me you'd support my decision, whatever it turned out to be." Victor pointed out, hand still on that leg, though he did have to lean slightly for now, "How can you support me if you're taking all the blame for it onto yourself?" He asked, and finally caught sight of those terrified brown eyes, "You can't be responsible for what happened. Only Konstantin can. He could've just left well enough alone, let me make my peace, and let me leave again without getting into it with me. Instead, he chose to antagonize me, insult and belittle me, and in the end, he tried to finish what he started fifteen years ago. That's all on him. I mean, it never even occurred to me that I should be upset at you for any of this." He reassured, grateful that they were close to home so he could park soon and be done with it, "Yuri, I need you now...please don't pull away."

"How can you ever trust my judgment again after this?"

"Because you're smart and you learn!" The silver answered easily, his one good brow furrowed; the other was paralyzed in place. He exhaled a frustrated sigh at the continued doubt on his fiancé's face, and did his best to quickly find his garage to park. The door had barely begun its rumbling closure as Victor threw himself from the driver's side, and rushed around the front of the Audi to get to his partner's door. That panel was pulled away as well, and Victor quickly stepped in close, collapsing down to sit on the edge of the foot-well to unbuckle his fiancé's seatbelt and pull the sobbing mess to his shoulder.

'You're different for him, from everyone else in this world.' Chris' worse echoed in the back of the Russian's mind. This is pretty terrible, Victor thought bitterly, It's going to be even worse tomorrow when I'm all swollen. "Come inside with me, Yuri." He asked quietly, and pulled back a little to try and see his devastated partner, "We're done with that whole fiasco. Let's go patch me up so we can go back to being us."

Yuri's eyes were near as swollen as Victor's, but he managed a tepid nod though his shuddering. He felt his fiancé's hand touch to his right, and he reached to pull the gold band from his middle finger. Though he trembled, he was able to get the ring back onto its owner's finger, and despite the scrapes on those knuckles, he kissed them, and hugged the hand to his face.

Victor extended those finger gently, and pressed his palm to his partner's wet face, "Thank you for protecting it for me." He said quietly, and leaned inward to offer a grateful kiss.

They hobbled into the house through the garage-access door, and gently calmed Makkachin down on the other side. The pup was frantic, but the air around the duo subdued him quite a bit. With all the lights on in the hall, Yuri got his first real look at the dirt and damage on his partner's form; Victor's long-coat was filthy with dirt, mostly on one side, the scarf was discolored from blood and vodka, and the front of the jacket and the man's pants were spackled with streaks of red, as well as one large splotch of brown that had the vague shape of a boot. Yuri swallowed a knot in his throat, and went silently about the task of disrobing himself from his winter gear. Victor did the same nearby, but he went through the process quite a bit slower.

"Oof... I'm going to be feeling this in the morning," He grumbled dryly, "Yuri, help get this sleeve off?" He asked, gesturing the cuff where his hand had barely retracted. Yuri took it in his fingers, and Victor pulled his arm out, turned in place, and pulled his other arm free, "I'm just going to throw all of this away." He explained, dropping the coat into a heap on the floor, "I won't ever be able to wear any of this again without thinking of today."

"...I d-don't...blame you." Yuri replied softly, his voice too sore to be much louder, "Was Yakov h-hurt, too?"

"I think he got shoved." Victor answered unsurely, "It's all a blur at this point. I just remember the blinding pain."

"And you're s-sure you don't want to see a doctor? What if h-he broke something?"

"I'll see someone about my eye tomorrow, but not in an ER." He said firmly, "I have enough to worry about with everyone finding out about what I'll look like in the morning. I'm not even sure what I can say to explain it."

"The t-truth?"

"Oh no, never." Victor answered instantly, "I never told anyone about my tribe for a reason, and I'm not about to start now. Maybe a car accident?" He considered, and dropped his shirt and under-shirt to the floor with his coat and scarf. He hadn't even thought about the kick to his gut before he saw the look on his partner's face, and he glanced down, spotting the big red scrape-marks just under his sternum, "...Ah, hm. I hadn't thought that one would've left a mark...at least not yet."

"He k-kicked you, didn't he?" Yuri quivered to ask, and dared to reach forward to press his cold fingers against the mark; it almost looked like a really bad rug-burn, "How many times?"

"Just the once."

Yuri balked and backed up, and covered his face again with his hands, "This is t-too much... It's going to take s-so long to heal... There's only a few weeks left u-until Worlds and y-you-"

"Yuri; calm...please...it's okay." Victor reassured, and stepped closer to hug the man again, "I'm home. I'm with you again. I know it's scary, but I'll heal just fine. It's just going to take a bit of time."

"I just c-can't believe how badly he hurt you... And all for what? Why?" Yuri pleaded, "He's ten times your size! What was the point!?"

"I asked the same thing," The silver grunted quietly, and backed up a bit with a hand over the sore gash on his front, "He didn't really give a good answer. Just that I embarrassed the family with my profession. Apparently being a figure skater is the same as being a prostitute."

Yuri's face twisted and his swollen eyes squinted, "What?"

"I don't think it'll ever make sense."

.

Though mindful of his sore sports, Victor made sure to offer cuddles to both his person and his dog. They were both asleep around him long before he himself felt tired, but he found the mercy of oblivion sometime around 3am, and woke again the next morning before the other two as well. By the time Yuri roused, Victor had already made an effort to clean himself up a second time, though no amount of water and careful bang-combing could really hide the morning-after damage of his injuries.

"Yeesh wow." Yuri winced.

"It's particularly tender so I'll have to be pretty careful with myself." The silver explained, "I haven't seen anything online about my situation yet so hopefully I can keep it on the down-low."

"How do you plan on doing that? Not skating 'till you're totally healed again?"

"No, that's unreasonable. I have to practice." He explained, and guided his pensive fiancé towards the kitchen, "Maybe until the swelling goes down. I have to be able to see anyway, and right now, I..."

"...It's completely swollen shut. We're supposed to take you to an eye doctor today. Can you even see to drive us there?"

Victor nodded sorely, "I'll have to look around a bit more deliberately, but I think I can manage."

Yuri peeled off briefly to fix Makkachin's breakfast, and he watched Victor's stiff frame shuffle across the tile floor towards the big espresso machine in the corner. It hurt to see how difficult it was for the normally-graceful Russian struggled, but he supposed, "You probably feel like you got hit with like six trucks now."

"...At least six." Victor agreed, giving a light laugh, only to regret it instantly and clutched at the patch of purple-red under his shirt, "Maybe a troika, too. The ones with the big draft horses."

"How did you sleep anyway?" Yuri pondered, "I feel like I was unconscious, but didn't really sleep at all..."

"I'm there with you." Victor nodded, and compacted some espresso grounds into the straining cup, then hooked it up into the machine. He reached for the fridge and the plastic bottle of milk kept inside, and poured it into a metal steaming mug, "You want some?"

"Oh yeah." Yuri agreed early, "I've a feeling we'll both need it."