John managed to make his way back to the veterinary clinic, but didn't find Elisa or even the door unlocked. While her assistance was nice, it was hardly necessary, except for this time. The door window he had previously broken was now boarded up with thick plywood and the metal door was too heavy for him to break it down with his body. Glanced at the arrows in his hand wondering if he could use them to break in, but quickly decided against it. Worse, he had dropped one as he had made his way back leaving him with only two to give to Elisa. No doubt she would understand, considering the circumstances. Momentarily defeated he collapsed on the concrete steps ready to let whatever happens, happen. For a moment everything turned to darkness, silence and peace.
Miles away on a rooftop patio Winston was gently swirling his bourbon around in his glass, the Adjudicator eyeing him with a slight grin, as though she had the upper hand. She was on her phone and the information she was receiving was quite juicy. She was an ambitious woman and taking down people who believed themselves to be above her or the high table was always a thrill and she fed on it with sadistic glee. She firmly believed that what she was hearing now had the potential to elevate her status and she craved the idea of being second to The Elder in power.
"It seems John Wick has been sighted." The Adjudicator said, after ending the call. "Several bodies were found with fatal injuries that match his handy work. Even more interesting is that they found an arrow a short distance from the last body. A very specific arrow that had a Damascus tip. I only know of one person who used those." At this, Winston raised an eyebrow. He too was familiar with that piece of weaponry. "It seems that Elisa Drake has emerged from whatever hole she has been hiding in. For her sake I hope she was aiming at John Wick. If she is helping him then she will be labeled as excommunicado with an equal price on her head. She, of all people, should know better."
"I wouldn't advise that," Winston commented, taking a sip of his drink. "Elisa Drake was not just granted her freedom but complete immunity by The Elder."
"Impossible. No one gets that," The Adjudicator responded, her smirk dropping. "Who is she, exactly?"
"While I don't know the details, I have heard the rumors. Elisa and John have known each other their whole lives. Raised together, educated together . . . trained together." Winston rose and went over to his personal bar and poured himself a drink. "They are loyal to the high table but more so to each other. He is nicknamed Baba Yaga and she is called Azhdaya. John may be the man you send to kill the boogeyman, but she kills his family. Everyone expected them to be a couple one day, but to our surprise it never happened. At other ends of the earth apart from each other, both found themselves wanting to leave the fold. For different reasons, of course, but both desiring it. John went to Viggo and got his. Elisa went to The Elder. No one knows exactly what sort of deal was struck, but whatever task he gave her, she completed it. If you go after her then you can be sure every assassin belonging to this organization will be turning their sights on you. Including John Wick."
The Adjudicator's eyes narrowed into a glare. Nothing had the power to aggravate her more than the thought of someone being out of her reach. It was the reason John pissed her off so much. He had no such immunity and his change in status should have been an instant death sentence, yet he was still walking and breathing. That this woman should be allowed to exist beyond her grasp made her blood boil. However, the Adjudicator could be patient. If she could prove that Elisa was duplicious then perhaps such immunity could be revoked. This all hinged on exactly what sort of deal was between her and the elder. Perhaps it was time for some research.
"We'll see about that." she sniffed, then standing and taking up her phone, she started making calls as she quickly left the rooftop.
Back at the veterinary clinic, John was beginning to return to consciousness. It seemed even death was afraid of him. He could feel the soft breeze of a fan against his bare chest and the soft tug of stitches being threaded through his skin to close his wounds. He could hear music playing softly and after a moment recognized the song as 'The Point of No Return' from 'The Phantom of the Opera'. The familiar scent of Christian Dior's 'Poison' met his nose and he knew he was safe with his old friend. Slowly he opened his eyes and found himself looking at that picture of Elisa with her son. The two looked so happy together, like the pictures of him and Helen.
His dark eyes turned to the woman before him, her two recovered arrows laying on the counter behind her. This was the second time today she had played doctor to him and he wondered why she was doing it? Why had she come to his aide there in the street when he was attempting to get to the chop shop? There were no blood oaths between them. If anything this was placing him in her debt and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. As long as their history was, he didn't know her anymore and wasn't sure what she might ask of him.
"Why did you help me?" he asked, looking at her face for a reaction. Her blue eyes never looked up from her sutures.
"It would be a waste to let the John Wick be taken down so easily." she answered, a slight smirk curling her lip. Elisa was not one to reveal her thoughts or motives anymore than he did. There was a time when the two confided in each other, but it seemed those days had passed. For a moment he looked back at the picture then returned to Elisa as she set aside her needle and began to unscrew the lid from a tube of antibiotic ointment.
"Your son," John said, only to pause as her fingers softly rubbed the topical medication over the wound. He breathed in the scent of his old friend, the fragrance of her perfume mixed with the woman herself. It carried with it a thousand memories, but he would not allow it to distract him, he couldn't. "He resembles his father."
"He does." she answered, her expression remaining stoic as she tore the wrapper off of a large band-aide and covered the wound. She then took up her needle and began to stitch up the last of his lacerations. It was small and would only take one or two at most.
"I suspect I met his father once, not all that long ago." John raised his left hand slightly, showing her his missing ring finger. He was still trying to gauge her reaction, but she never looked up.
"So I see." She finished tying off the last stitch and applied antibiotic ointment then once again placed a bandage over it. Satisfied with her work, she took off her latex gloves and began to put medical supplies away. Perhaps it was because of her own experience with The Elder, or because of the history she had with John . . . maybe it was both, but after a moment Elisa stopped what she was doing and looked at her old friend. Her deep blue eyes showed a hint of regret and pity. "You should not have sold your ring to him. Helen was worth a lot more than that."
"Nay govori mne tsennost moego obruchalnogo koltsa, kogda the prodal emu svoye telo, Erzhebet. vy toze prodals svoyu dushu? [Don't tell me the value of my wedding ring when you sold your body to him, Erzsébet. Did you sell your soul too?]" he growled. Perhaps her words had been meant in kindness, but he took judgment from no one, not even her since clearly she had done just as much or perhaps worse.
"Net. [No]" she answered coolly. "Moe telo moe, chtoby delat vse, chto mne zablagorassuditsya, a chto kasayetsya moei dushi, to nicto nay vladeet eyu, krome menia![My body is mine to do with as I please and as for my soul, no one owns it but me!]" She was not about to accept his insinuation even if it had shades of truth. The life they had been groomed for was a harsh, dark and complicated place and nothing in it came without a steep cost.
The two stared at each other, their emotions running raw and deep, but their faces giving away nothing. It was hard to imagine that once they had been orphans found on the streets of Belarus. Back then he had been eight years old and known as Jardani Jovonovich. He had been living in the dormitories of the 'Russian Ballet' for two months when he noticed a new little girl standing in the hallway of the girls dormitories. Small with long dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, Erzsébet Drakon was only six and waiting for the director to return with her room assignment. At the time neither had understood that they were being taken in by the Tarasov Russian Mafia, only that they had a chance to get off the streets. Looking down at the little girl beside him, he could see that she was afraid and even on the verge of tears. He had been scared when he first arrived too, but had been determined to be brave.
"It will be okay. You'll be safe here. I'll protect you," he assured her, taking her tiny hand in his. "They're going to take care of you, feed you and you'll have warm beds to sleep in. You'll see." Elisa looked up to him nervously. These were all wonderful things and a far cry from living among the trash on the streets. He pointed to an exit that led up to the rooftop and whispered. "If it will make you feel better, after bedtime we can meet up there and I'll read you a book. That night she did just that and found him waiting for her with a book on Russian folklore. Snuggling up together in the corner of the roof, he read her stories of the Domovoi, Baba Yaga, Kikimore and more.
This soon became a nightly ritual and the library at their disposal was filled with books of every kind and together they read everything from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, to Winnie the Pooh and Grimms Fairy Tales. As they grew they remained close and more and more protective of each other. On several occasions they got into fights whenever one of the other children teased or bullied them. It was in one of these fights that John's focus and determination came to the attention of the Tarasov Crime Family. His opponent was sixteen, bigger, older and by all appearances stronger and the favored student. He was being groomed to be one of their elite assassins and as such it made him arrogant and a bully. At the time John was only thirteen, but all it had taken was hearing this brute refer to Elisa as 'doch schluchy' or 'daughter of a whore' and he was on the attack. Despite the odds he had destroyed his opponent using his pencil, math textbook and his sheer will.
It was not only John who got into scrapes of that nature either. Elisa frequently found herself in trouble for attacking girls in the ballet for similar comments directed at John. One prima ballerina dared to whisper that he was a 'dvornyaga' or mongrel who belonged back on the street where he came from. She was found on stage with a maestro's baton lodged deep in her upper vertebrae leaving her a quadreplegic for the rest of her life. After incidents such as these it was thought that the two should be separated, but try as they might, there was no parting them. Each night they still sat on that fire escape talking, reading and dreaming.
For her fifteen birthday he managed to sneak a cupcake from the dining hall and presented it to Elisa during one of their nightly rendezvous. It was that night that something changed in them. Young, foolish and impetuous, a kiss on the cheek in gratitude quickly became a kiss on the lips as new feelings began to surface. Desires that they were still too young to understand began to overtake them as their bodies awoke to their more primal urges with every deep penetrating kiss. Their only fear was being caught by the director. Boys and girls were not allowed to fraternize in such fashion and if they were caught then the punishment would be swift and severe. Any repercussions John incurred would be short lived as he would be eighteen in a few months and would be able to start working for the Tarasovs just as he had been trained to. Elisa had three more years and things would become exceedingly uncomfortable to say the least if what they were doing got out. Yet, despite it all, they were not so afraid that they were willing to stop. No, instead the pleasure to be had in each other's arms quickly became part of their nightly ritual.
When John Wick graduated from his training, he still found ways to visit Elisa on the rooftop. If he was in town then he left a magazine cutout of a flower on the window of her dormitory. As the years went by, both would go on to prove just what a force they were and even their names gave anyone within the underworld a reason to pause. They still found ways to meet up at any one of the Continental hotels around the globe whenever their schedules would allow it. Over time it became less and less as their skills became more and more in demand. Then the rendezvous stopped all together without a message or even a good-bye. John made a couple of attempts at contacting Elisa, but there was never an answer and his life became nothing but death and darkness.
After that, he met Helen and through her he saw a world he had only dreamed of and rarely glimpsed. With her in his life a light he never knew existed seemed to fill him. In the past he had only seen glimpses of it during those quiet moments on the rooftop with Elisa. With Helen there was no hiding in the shadows, it was obtainable, real and gave him more happiness then he could have ever hoped for. Views and objects suddenly looked different and were beautiful with Helen at his side. She made him alive and whole and if he could have, he would have sacrificed his own life to save hers. The wound left by her death was still raw and his heart ached and mourned for her and worse, he was back in the darkness he had tried so hard to escape. Instead of basking in the sunlight with Helen, he was sitting in a veterinary clinic with Elisa, his bullet holes had been stitched up, but a thousand questions were still on his mind. Where had she been all these years and how had she managed to escape the unending game of death?
