CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

-Look what the cat dragged in!? I thought we were done!-

The car ride back home was at least a short one, given how Victor didn't feel comfortable driving with his bad eye covered. He drove slowly and deliberately, and took way longer to get back than normal. Yuri wasn't about to complain though. The last thing he wanted was more trouble...especially since he was finally about to see the outfits Victor had planned for Worlds.

Aside from the tailors, he alone would be amongst the first who got to glimpse what was to come.

Someone honked at them repeatedly from behind, and Victor started to get a little flustered, "Cyka blyat... Is it clear?"

Yuri looked back between the seats to check the rear, "Yeah."

Victor powered on through, and kicked up snow and slush behind them as the car moved ahead. Other cars honked, but no one collided, so they quickly sped off to rejoin the normal flow of traffic.

By the time they got back, Yuri's heart was in his throat, and he fell out of the car as it parked. He all but kissed the garage floor for gratitude to be back. Makkachin barked behind the door to urge them inside, and once in, both exhausted men dropped down onto the big blue couch with a huge sigh of relief.

"Well, at least the ice rink isn't that far away..." Victor said with a huff, "I don't want to drive on a major highway again until I get my sight back."

"No comment." Yuri heaved.

"And you've seriously never learned to drive?"

"No comment."

The Russian raised his hand, and dropped it onto Yuri's rather dramatically where it was clenched to the cushions between them, "It's okay, you can say it..."

"We made it back...so let's get started already!" Yuri offered instead, and sat up excitedly and rushed for the front door. He quickly pried it open and spied the desired box there on their stoop; greedy hands quickly scooped it up, and he turned back inside with it, "You said you'd show me the new costumes!"

The Russian huffed a laugh, "Alright, alright...give me just a minute then..." He said, and rose to stand to collect the box from his fiancé's waiting arms. Yuri watched him go happily, but sat back down on the couch patiently. A few anxious minutes passed, and soon, Victor came back from the bedroom hallway bedecked in the first of his two new outfits.

This one was, Yuri guessed, for the Short Program. While the 'Eros' costume had been black, and the 'Agape' had been white, this new costume for 'Phillia' was grey. Unlike the previous two outfits though, this one was not merely an older outfit that Victor had used in his youth. Keeping in line with the theme, however, the Russian's outfit was made with the idea of war; he'd chosen to reference the bonds made between soldiers...brothers in arms. The costume looked somewhat ratted, as though it had been worn through the rigors of battle a few times already. The mantle was comprised of several sheets of torn-up and generally shredded grey and black material, with a gunmetal-grey loose-fitting uniform beneath it, tied at the calves and ankles with dark-colored rope, almost like spats. There were numerous straps that went around the legs and across the hips and torso, with the forearms and wrists wrapped in black material and silver rope. There weren't any embellishments or crystals embedded in the material, leaving the entire thing looking 'dull' compared to some other outfits, but Yuri supposed that was somewhat the point.

What soldier runs through a battlefield shining and shimmering anyway? "Wooow~!" He fangirled anyway, "That looks amazing!"

Victor started to reenact a few of the moves from the program right there in the living-room. The motion of his arms looked more like martial arts this time though, with wide, sweeping motions that drew the eyes to center, and quicker motions that were too fast to follow. Yuri could only imagine how intense the footwork would be on the ice when Victor was ready to get back onto it...never mind all the other elements that might've changed since he and Yurio had set a new standard with their own new world records.

The second outfit was another beast all together; it almost looked like a Las Vegas show presenter's suit, with long coat-tails that came to a point just below the Russian's knees. It was black from tip to toes, but the free edges of many panels were trimmed in shining red or gold. The black material itself had a swirling pattern within it - shifting between a more shiny black material, and the matte it was set on - which could only be seen in just the right light. The arms and back were emblazoned with sequins in elaborate vine-like lines - red towards the ends of the sleeves, and gold from elbows to shoulders, which then mixed together on the back and chest. There was even a matching top-hat to go with it, and though Victor wouldn't be able to use it for much, he still thought it was fun to have.

That one left Yuri somewhat speechless, and he just stared at the Russian like he was some kind of god. But, one thing did come to mind, and he slouched against the arm-rest, "Ahhh...it's really a shame you're only going to use this at one competition... You can tell the tailors put a lot of work into it..."

"Right?" Victor agreed, and looked himself over with a bit of a melancholy visage, "Maybe I should do some unofficial events..."

"What about that Adult Competition I told you about before...?"

"No way." Victor insisted, "...Besides, I looked into it, and if I go to Worlds, I'm disqualified from the Adult competition anyway. Plus, it seems like they don't allow quad jumps at all, regardless of skill level...so that kind of kills it for me."

"So it's basically the back-up competition for those who don't qualify for anything else for whatever reason."

"Seems so."

"Well, I guess that's fine..."

"I'll have to do my best to make this one performance of the season worthwhile for everyone." Victor said, "And I'll do it by taking back my claim on the world records." He winked at his fiancé daringly.

"Yeah!" Yuri cheered, only to pause, "Wait... Time-out. You can have Yurio's mine I'm keeping mine."

The Russian hummed to himself, then moved forward to put a finger under his beloved's chin, "You don't get to start raising your hands during jumps without me doing the same thing."

"How come you hadn't before, anyway?"

"Didn't need to."

"So you've been holding yourself back this entire time."

"Four quads in a single program isn't exactly what I'd call 'holding myself back.'" Victor explained, "Most skaters can barely manage two or three, tops. Those who make it all the way through the GP Series are basically going on to the GPF as the Quad Finalists."

"I never really thought of it like that...but I guess you're right."

"But, since you and Yurio are pushing me to do more, I kind of have to. So, get ready to see some skating that you've never seen before." Victor mused, and touched his partner's nose with his thumb before he - very carefully - spun his way back into the bedroom to change into normal clothing.

Watching him go, Yuri sighed to himself, "...Jeeze...he's just been messing with us all along... He's gonna destroy us at Worlds..." He slouched so far on the couch that he found himself flat on his back, eyes up at the ceiling, "...Well, I guess it wouldn't be so bad to win the Silver to Victor's Gold..." He threw his arms up over his head though, "...But he said I have to be a five time World Champion, just like him! Ahhh!"

.

Days went by, and Victor was able to take the bulky dressing off his head, only to replace it with the eye patch he'd been given instead. But, with his bruises healing, he felt like it was time for him to get his skates back on again, and brave the training arena despite not having both eyes to see still.

"Yakov is still the only one besides us who knows what really happened." He explained as they walked along the long bridge that lead to the rink, "So if anyone asks what happened..."

"It was a car accident..." Yuri grumbled.

"I know you don't like lying, but..." He continued, "I don't need anyone else getting into my business. What's done is done."

"I'm a terrible liar."

"It's not like you have to tell the whole story...the color of the car, what seat I was sitting in, whether I was a driver or not..." Victor tried to alleviate the pressure, but knew he was failing, "Just..."

"I knoooowwwww..." Yuri cut him off, "I won't tell anyone what really happened. I'll just tell them to ask you about it if they really want to know, and we both know no one will."

"What? Why wouldn't they?" Victor was confused, "People ask me stuff all the time."

Yuri side-eyed him comically, "Because you're Victor Nikiforov, five time consecutive Gold-medalist at the GPF, World and European Championships, Russian Nationals and Gold medalist at the last Olympics. You have this weird untouchable quality." He tried to explain, and looked forward again, "Pestering you about how you got hurt would be like someone was trying to tarnish your grandeur and drag you down. It just seems disrespectful."

"Hah, the concept of disrespecting me never stopped Yurio."

"And yet, even he hasn't actually asked you what happened." Yuri pointed out.

"...Hm, that's true." The Russian put a finger over his lips as he pondered it, "I guess I hadn't thought about it since he'd already assumed I got into a fight. He even asked if I got the other guy."

"Oh...he did?"

Victor pulled his finger away from his mouth and held it up, smiling, "Yup! You were still fainted though, so that's why you didn't hear it."

Yuri's face went red at the mention of it, "...Ahhh...I still can't believe I dropped like that..."

The Russian just draped his arm over his partner's shoulders and pulled him close, "It's okay, I caught you, and then I carried you over the threshold into the arena."

"How dramatic." Yuri laughed weakly; he moved his left arm to wrap around Victor's lower back, and they continued their walk to the skating rink.

The training arena was fairly well packed when they arrived, but they'd expected it to be. It wasn't used exclusively by the Russian skating team, after all, and they couldn't very-well hog the thing all the time. But, the entire team did happen to be there, so when Yuri and Victor entered the building, they were the first to recognize them.

"Oh my God it's true." Mila said suddenly, pointing at them, though mostly at Victor, "Someone beat you up!"

Victor narrowed his eyes...eye..., "...I...can't even... What?"

She rushed up to him and grabbed him by his shoulders, "Who did this!? I'll hurt them ten times worse! I did warn you this would happen! I told you in Barcelona, didn't I!?"

Yurio and Georgi glanced between the two skaters, unsure what to say, if anything.

Victor tried to calm her, and waved one hand in a downward motion like he wanted to turn her volume down if he could, "Relax, it's fine, nothing happened."

"You're wearing an eye-patch like a damn pirate!" She argued, "Someone punched you in the face and I mean to break theirs for it!"

Yuri watched quietly, but gave the man a knowing look.

"Enough already, both of you." Yakov's voice interrupted them, "Victor says he's fine, so he's fine. That's the end of it."

Mila was forced to drop it, and she let go of Victor's shoulders reluctantly. She did turn to eyeball him straight-on though, wishing she could read his mind to find the face of the one who'd hurt him. That failing, however, she just went back out onto the ice and skated off in a grumpy huff.

"Vitya," Their coach started up again, and approached so as to speak more quietly and still be heard, "How does it look?"

The silver puffed a sigh and reached up to lift the eye-patch a little, showing that the sclera was still blood-red, but that at least the swelling around his cheek had gone down considerably, leaving just an ugly purple-green bruise and a few dark-red cuts to hide beneath the covering.

"Can you see?"

"It's hazy, but it's getting back to normal." He explained, and put the patch down again. He straightened his bangs out to cover it, "It'll be fine in another week or two, I'm sure."

"That's good. You have a lot of work to do for Worlds and not a lot of time to do it."

"I'll wait until the ice clears a little before I go practice. I can still skate, I just don't want to risk someone being in my blind spot while I still have to wear this stupid thing."

"That's fine. Do what you have to." Yakov nodded, and pat Victor's shoulder before he headed towards the rink's edge, "I'm going to put some cones down so people know to stay off this side of the rink."

"Da." Victor nodded, and pulled his backpack up a little as he turned to look back at Yuri, and gestured him over to the team's prep area.

They pulled off their heavy winter garb and set it aside, with each wearing their country's tracksuit coats underneath. They both put on their skates in relative quiet, listening to the scratch of blades on the ice, and kids crying out in excitement...and occasionally in despair when they fell. Victor was done first, and moved to stand up and step over to the rink wall. He slouched over it to look out at the arena, then stretched his arms. It feels different today for some reason, he thought. Coming here to practice the programs I choreographed a year ago...it's like I'm right back where I started, to the day before I saw the video of Yuri doing my 'Aria.'

Yuri finally joined him, and nudged the ponderous man with a shoulder as he put his hands on the rink's edge, "You want to put me through my paces for a while?"

"Sure. Go skate some laps and warm up. I'll think about what to have you practice first."

"All right..." He nodded, and moved to take his glasses off. He set them gingerly on the bench where he'd just been sitting, pulled the rubber guards off his blades, and plodded off carefully to the rink entrance on his toe-picks.

Victor watched him go, then moved to do a little stretching of his own, holding onto the rink ledge as he leaned far back. He held there for a moment, and felt the pull in his back and shoulders, but when he came back up again...a certain pair of green eyes were staring him straight in the face from the other side of the wall

"Oh!" He started, "Hey, Yurio." He kept on with his stretching like before.

"You shouldn't skate with one eye even if no one else is on the ice." The blond warned, "I won't forgive you if you get hurt and can't compete at Worlds."

"Why so worried?" Victor mused, and pushed back to lean down to grip the benches; he used them to hoist himself up and down in a set of reverse push-ups, legs straight out ahead of himself, "If I overdo it, then you'll have one less person to worry about."

"I've waited long enough." The Russian Tiger explained stiffly, "You've been out of competition for most of the season. If you don't go to Worlds then you'll be done until fall when the GP Series starts again. Unless you feel like going to Lombardia or Nebelhorn or something first."

"So you're telling me not to skate?"

"Not until you can use both eyes again at least, dumbass."

"Glad to see you care." Victor teased, and stood upright again to circle his arms around, first forward, then back again after a few spins, "I didn't think you did."

"Hmmph..."

"How's your grandpa?"

"...He's good." Yurio answered warily, "I've been keeping him on top of his meds."

Victor nodded and pulled himself back up to the rink's edge again. He leaned against it right next to the blond, and looked out over the ice to find his partner, "That's good to hear. Having a strong support structure is important for any athlete looking to go the distance. It's hard to go it alone. I'm glad he decided to move up here from Moscow."

The Russian Tiger silently agreed, thinking back on his abysmal performance at the European Championships. He scuffed the ice with the toe-barbs on the his right skate, "I'm going to redeem myself at Worlds."

The silver legend smiled at that, "That's exactly what Yuri said about the GPF when I first became his coach." He ruffled Yurio's hair affectionately, "You and him are more alike than you realize."

"We're nothing alike." He protested indignantly. He spotted the aforementioned skater on the far side, lining up to practice the very quad Salchow he'd helped Yuri land properly in the first place, "I don't cry to myself while sitting on a public toilet." He turned to lean his back against the wall; Yuri pulled through the Salchow as though it was nothing and even turned it into a triple-jump combo, adding a single Loop and a triple Toe-loop before he moved off again casually.

Victor reached over and settled his hand on Yurio's shoulder, "You don't have to keep picking on him just because you both share the same name. You beat him fair and square at the Grand Prix Final and he's been sweating about how to beat you at Worlds ever since."

"Don't kid yourself. He's more worried about beating you than he is about beating me."

"He hasn't competed against me since he fell apart in Sochi, that's true." Victor agreed, "But...you scored over 118 in your GPF Short Program, and he still hasn't reached that height himself yet."

"He scored higher than me in his Free Skate."

"He has more stamina than you do. He gets more points for putting bigger jumps closer to the end of the program. But unless he can catch up to you in the Short Program, he's still going to struggle a little."

"Tsh..." Yurio grumbled, and twisted his head around to gawk at his superior, "I don't need you telling me-"

"VICTOR." They both heard Yuri suddenly scream from the far side of the rink, having fallen for some reason.

Yurio jerked his head around and watched the man collapse on the ice, "What'd that idiot do now...? I hope he didn't twist an ankle or someth-"

"VICTOR!" The downed skater screamed again, this time with more urgency and panic than before.

Victor practically tripped over his own feet in his attempt to get the blade guards off, and literally vaulted over the rink wall to take off across the ice like a red and white blur. Yurio pulled up the rear after that, but was a bit less excited about it. When Victor finally arrived, he dug his heels in and sent a flurry of ice up as he braked, coming to rest directly in front of his partner with one knee down on the cold hard surface, "What is it!? Are you hurt!?" He barked his questions, and grabbed the man to looking for blood through his black clothes. He found nothing, but Yuri still shook like a leaf, so he leaned closer, "Yuri! Say something!"

He could only look through him - past him - and pointed straight ahead to where something had caught his eye behind Victor's line of sight. The Russian turned to look directly back, and saw something on the rink's edge that he hadn't expected; his heart practically seized in his chest, and he froze in place, unsure what to do.

"The hell is wrong with you two?" Yurio asked as he finally caught up to them.

Mila had finally gotten there as well, and was equally curious - if less vulgar- about what was going on. Practically everyone had stopped what they were doing to look over at the foreign skater with the random-as-hell blood-curdling scream. They all looked in the direction Yuri had pointed, and were confused when they saw nothing that looked out of the ordinary. There were people on the ice, off the ice, and nothing looked odd.

Except for the huge, hulking mass of a man that was staring straight back at them.

"...It's...it's Konstantin...!" Yuri finally managed to say, "Why is he here!?"

"Who the fuck is Konstantin?" Yurio growled, "And why are you shitting yourself over it?"

Victor finally pushed himself to stand, and offered his hands down to pull his fiancé up as well, though he kept his one good eye on the brooding Russian bear that hadn't blinked since they'd each caught sight of one another. When he felt that Yuri was finally on his feet again, he let go and turned about-face to glare at his father straight on.

Why are you here...?