Victor had no right giving me the number for a shrink. That was still bullshit on his part. Despite how slightly pissed off I was at him, I'm going to keep it together for the kids. I can always bitch at him later. Although...he was only worried about me. There's nothing to worry about, but it's still nice to know that he cares enough.

If yesterday wasn't a perfect enough example of that. I didn't ask him to take care of my hungover ass, but he did. I didn't ask him to come get me last night, but he did. I definitely didn't ask for that business card, but he gave it to me anyway. That card was probably for when Victor couldn't take care of me anymore. Or for when he stops caring and wants to pawn the job off on someone else. No...He wouldn't do that...Right?

Regardless, after a good night's sleep, I felt good enough to go back to practice. Besides, I'm behind a day. I need to get that back. If I can land my quads again, I'll be happy. A successful practice. Even if it's just one quad I get, I can make up with a dreaded double toe loop. I slammed an energy drink and headed straight for the rink. I hope Celestino's there already.

I don't know why he wouldn't be. Right now was Yurio's practice slot. And since Victor decided all on his own that I was currently unfit to coach our son, Celestino was filling that slot. I had to admit, though. If I was going to pick another coach for Yurio other than Victor or me, Celestino would be my first choice. He was good enough for me when my career started. I don't see why he wouldn't do the same for Yurio.

Sure enough, there they were. Yurio's program shortlist played through the speakers and he did a few spins in the center of the rink. Really, Coach? You got him running spins? Your strength lies in your jumps, Yurio. You know that as well as I do. I won't fault you for rebelling against your coach a little bit. Even if you get hurt, you'll be able to heal up and get back to practice before competition.

"Alright, Yurio," Celestino killed the music, "I think you've done enough for today. We can get your dance lesson in this afternoon. Tomorrow, we'll talk about choreographing your program for the season."

"Fine," Yurio looked so...bored. So uninspired. Until he caught sight of his inspiration, "Mama!"

"Hey, baby," I held my arms out and Yurio practically tackled me, "You were great out there. What I saw anyway."

"Can I show you something?" he begged, "I want to show you how good I've gotten."

"Alright, Yuri," I allowed, "Go on. Make Mama proud."

"I will!" Yurio ran back to the rink and started doing laps. What was this kid planning?

"Yurio, no!" Apparently, Celestino knew. And wasn't having it, "We talked about that! You're not ready yet!"

He wasn't stopping. Yurio kept getting his speed up. That's my boy. Push yourself. How do you know if you can't do it if you don't try it first? As Celestino nursed his possible aneurysm by cursing under his breath in Italian (oh, the memories), Yurio had enough speed to do his jump. My baby floated in midair, managing to get in four rotations. Then, with the greatest of ease, Yurio stuck his landing beautifully. Celestino's coloring started to come back and his vice grip on my hand released.

"I did it!" Yurio let out a victorious squeak, "A quad toe loop! Just like Victor's only better because I did it! Did you see it, Mama?"

"I sure did!" I took my son into my arms, "That's my boy!"

"Yurio!" Celestino scolded, "What did I tell you? You've already fallen four times trying to do that toe loop. If you would've fallen again, you could've gotten seriously hurt!"

"But I didn't," Yurio pointed out, not letting his new coach take this moment away from him, "So, I don't see what the problem is."

"You're just like your mama," he let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, "You're both stubborn to a fault, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say to a fault," I laid my head on his shoulder, "A little stubborn, maybe. He's got a point, though, Coach. Yuri nailed that toe loop. His landing was so clean I could eat off it. I say we take the win."

"What about next time?" Celestino argued, "What if he tries it again and takes a harder fall? Those big jumps could end his career."

"Those big jumps could make his career, too!" I gave my rebuttal.

"Last I checked, you're not his coach anymore, Violet," he threw that in my face, "And as his coach, I say what jumps he can and can't do!"

If that wasn't a sucker punch to the face. He was right. I might not have been his coach right now, but I was still his mama. I had every right to tell Yurio what he could do on the ice. Stow your anger, Violet. Give Celestino that middle finger on the ice. Although, going by the look in his eye, it won't be necessary.

"That was deep, Celestino," Yurio stepped in, "You're not my coach forever. Don't let this go to your head. Mama is always my coach."

I knew I loved him for a reason. My baby wrapped himself around my waist, offering what little comfort he could. Yurio's intuition was stronger than I gave him credit for, "I love you, too, Yuri."

"Violet," Celestino tucked his tail between his legs, "I...You know I didn't..."

"Don't worry about it," I brushed him off, not fully accepting his apology, "Yuri, is Victor or Uncle Chris coming to get you or is Celestino supposed to be bringing you back home?"

"Celestino's supposed to bring me back home," Yurio looked up at me with sparkles in his eyes, "Or you could."

"I just got here, sweetheart," I kissed the top of his head, "I have practice, too."

"I know," he pouted, "But maybe instead of going back to Victor and Uncle Chris, I could go to your place."

"You got a key," I reminded him, "Go ahead. Let yourself in. There's not much there but Nadya. I need to go grocery shopping after practice. And you need to rest up before the Madame has you. I made the mistake of yawning once in the middle of a lesson once and I thought she was going to beat me with a wooden paddle."

"But your bed is bigger than mine," Yurio whined, "And a lot more comfortable."

"Yuri," I groaned, "It's not going to be the end of the world. Besides, I'm going to see you tonight, right? Coach? How's he been doing?"

"Better than last season," Celestino reported, "I see gold in his future this year."

"Hell yeah, you do!" I wouldn't be shocked if he's at the Junior Grand Prix again. Between Celestino and me? We better call the engravers now, "So? How about it, Dovahkiin? You, me, and some late nights?"

"Definitely!" Yurio's face lit up. I made him a promise and I'll be damned if I go back on it.

"Then, go back home with Celestino," I demanded, "Anything specific you want while I'm at the store snack wise?"

"Those shrimp chips Yuri had in Japan."

"I don't think I'll be able to get those," I bit my tongue, "Those are probably one of those things I have to order on Amazon. Next time, ok?"

"I want the shrimp chips!" Yurio squealed, "Are we going back to Japan for competition this year?"

"I don't know," I wondered, "Coach? You got the schedule for this year yet?"

"I don't think they've even thought about what the host cities are going to be this year," Celestino shrugged, "Odds are, we'll probably be back in Japan sometime."

"We get shrimp chips then," Yurio kicked off his skates and grabbed his bag. I hope the international section at the grocery store is good to me.

"Go on, kid," I sent him off, "I'll see you tonight."

"I love you, Mama," Yurio snuck a kiss on my cheek.

"I love you, too," I hugged him tight, "Send your brother my love, too."

"Mama…"

"Yurio," I gave him the mom voice. He couldn't say no, "Like it or not, blood or no blood, that's your older brother and I love him just as much as I love you."

"I know better," Yurio smirked, "You love me a little more, don't you?"

"Don't tell Yuri," I shot him a quick wink, "Go."

That kid was going to have a permanent smile on his face until he got home. Maybe even a little longer than that. Either way, Yurio and Celestino left me to my devices. I had the whole rink to myself. Something about skating in solitude was very soothing for me. Whether I could sleep at night or not, this was my place of zen. While he's gone, I should choreograph my entire program. Would I go behind my coach's back like that? He went behind mine when he decided to coach my son. Why not?

After seeing Yurio's quadruple toe loop, it made me want to do that. Thanks, kid. If I fall and get hurt and I can't skate anymore, it's mostly your fault. No. You know you can land your quads, Violet. The hard stuff is easy. The easy stuff is hard. You're skating in a topsy-turvy world now. I got my speed up and killed all of my jumps. To no surprise, of course. I'm a hell of a skater. I always have been. I don't know why I'm so freaked out over practices. I have plenty of time to get back to fighting shape. I might as well be now.

Celestino came back and drilled me for the next hour. Granted, I didn't have anything better to do, but this was all so tedious. My spins were air tight, my jumps were perfect, and my footwork rivaled Victor's. I didn't need practice. My muscles were there and everything was back. Victor was right. Once I got that damn double toe loop down, everything else fell into place. I had this. The Grand Prix Final was mine this year and no one dares take it away from me.

After practice, I still needed to go to the grocery store. I didn't have shit at my place for food that wasn't in takeout containers. But I wasn't going to want to cook. Cooking in my small kitchen was my own private hell. The price we pay for living in New York. Odds of us having a big kitchen like we did in Russia were next to none. Lucky for me, though, there was a damn fine Chinese place up the street and the kid that did their deliveries was sweet. His name was Matthew and he was cute as a button.

Although that had dinner covered, we still needed snacks. Come on, international section. Don't fail me. Have Yurio's Japanese shrimp chips. Please have Yurio's shrimp chips or he'll have my head. At least until I hit up Amazon. Dammit…No shrimp chips. They did have instant ramen, though! And sometimes, instant ramen hits the spot. I don't understand why, but it just works. Instead of his shrimp chips, I threw in an assortment of shit food that was no good for either of us, but the diet restrictions our coach has us on be damned. We can treat ourselves.

When I got to the check-out line, I saw an issue of Skate Weekly Magazine on the rack and threw up in my mouth a little. Still went through with the article on my downward spiral, huh, Doyle Wallace with Skate Weekly Magazine? A picture of me being carried on Victor's shoulder was splashed on the cover. Gross. Let's pay more attention to trader papers and National Enquirer and the fact that the mayor's dog just had puppies, shall we? I did a quick switch around of the magazines to cover up Doyle Wallace with Skate Weekly Magazine's abomination.

"Excuse me," the cashier gasped, "Isn't that you?"

"Hmm?" I perked up.

"On the magazine," he pointed, "Are you Violet Plisetsky?"

"Prosti," I apologized, putting on a thick, Russian accent. After hearing it out of Victor's mouth for years, I've learned to perfect it, "No. It's amazing. I get that all the time. I couldn't imagine being on magazine cover. Let alone being such good figure skater like she is."

"You follow?" he wondered, taking an eternity to scan my items.

"Figure skating?" I assumed, "All my life. Coming from St. Petersburg, if you don't know who Victor Nikiforov is, you were living under rock."

"He's a god, isn't he?" the cashier gave me that fake 'I work in retail' smile and finished bagging my groceries.

"You have nice day," I took my bags and got the hell out of there. Just what I wanted to deal with was an overly enthusiastic Victor fanboy. But now, all of my thoughts for the rest of the day are going to be in a Russian accent. Thanks, guy behind the counter. All I needed to do now was get home, kick my feet up, and possibly take a nap.

But because Violet isn't allowed nice things, I got jumped by camera flashes and reporters shoving recording devices in my face. If I ever have the displeasure of meeting Doyle Wallace from Skate Weekly Magazine, I'm personally taking him into an alley and kicking the ever-living shit out of him. I'm going to curb stomp his face into the ground. There will be an impression in the cement. For now, though, I needed to make a phone call…after I get the reporters out of my face.

"Hi, Violet," Celestino answered, "This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need some help," I sighed out, seeking refuge in that alley that would one day have Doyle Wallace from Skate Weekly Magazine's blood in it, "I'm getting a barrage of reporters and I'm not having it. You think you could hook a sister up?"

"I can get you some bodyguards," he promised, "I'll start looking now. Are you ok?"

"A little traumatized," I shrugged, "But I think I'll be ok. Thank you, Celestino."

"You're welcome, bambina," Celestino sang out, "Where are you right now?"

"The alley behind the grocery store."

"Go straight home," he demanded, "No detours. No going to another store. Go straight home. Those reporters are going to be ruthless and you don't deserve that. Go home."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

A/N: I'm so sorry this is up so late. It's been…Hell of a day. A little roller coaster-y and there's only more to come. But all that aside, next week, we'll have Violet and Yurio going on a game binge. We may or may not meet her bodyguards. I'm proud of her for not throwing punches. Also, that whole, Violet speaking in a Russian accent to the cashier at the grocery store? And how her internal monologue is going to be in a Russian accent for the rest of the day? It happens. That's a thing. Because that's every time I update this. I always end up with a Russian accent in my head. And I really think that Celestino sending her bodyguards is his way of apologizing for his dick move at the rink. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to bed. See you next chapter! xx