NB: This is a side story set two and a half years before the events of Separation Anxiety and which references characters and events from the main story.

Viktor wanted nothing more than to look away, to pretend he wasn't there.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Yuuri's voice echoed slightly in the warehouse, low and sensual, but cruel and wrong all at once. Viktor felt like the words were directed at him, even though he knew very well that they were explicitly for the vor whimpering at Yuuri's feet. Even then, they still pressed against his ears, still made him sick to his stomach to hear that same desirous tone he heard in bed used in a completely different context.

"Please, no more..."

Yuuri laughed, a blood-chilling sort of sound.

"Traitors don't deserve mercy," he said, and Viktor was sure he licked his lips as he ran the flat of a knife down the vor's cheek.

"No! Please! I'll tell you everything!"

"This isn't about information, you fool," he said, turning the knife and slicing into the man's face. "Do you really think we don't already know about your little chats with the Korotkins?" he asked, ignoring the screams.

No, he's enjoying them, Vitya corrected himself, wanting more than anything to turn his head. Instead, he remained stiffly standing to the side, hands behind his back as Yuuri worked.

"You knew what would happen if you betrayed the clan," Yuuri said, his eyes glinting with pleasure. Viktor didn't need to see to know that he was aroused, but he tried hard not to think about the fact that Yuuri would vent his needs on Vitya later; their sex life was complicated enough without having to admit that Yuuri's desires were based on bloodlust and violence, more than they were on being with Viktor.

"No! I- I didn't- AUGHHH!"

Yuuri sliced off an ear with unnatural ease, tapping the handle of the knife to the vor's temple easily.

"Don't bother lying, though telling the truth won't save you at this point either," he chuckled. "Scream for me, won't you?"

It was too much for him; Viktor shut his eyes, trying to pretend he was only listening to a movie, trying not to think of the screams that still haunted his dreams. Yuuri wouldn't notice; he was far too gone at this point to see anything but his victim, though it didn't stop Viktor from feeling like he'd done something unforgivable by turning away. There was just so much blood, so much unnecessary pain... But he knew it was wrong to want to hide from this part of Yuuri, knew it was cruel to be sickened by it, not after all Yuuri had suffered because of him.

"Vitya."

There was a knot in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down. He'd be in trouble if he threw up here.

"Vitya."

Viktor's eyes flew open, startled at the sound of his own name. He found Yuuri staring at him, less than a foot away, his brown eyes hard to read in the dim light.

"Oh. Did you call me?" he asked weakly.

"Three times," Yuuri said drily, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just... tired," Viktor lied.

Yuuri's eyes lingered a moment longer before he turned away.

"Don't be so carefree at work," he said coldly. He threw the knife down on the tarp that had been laid over the table, obviously irritated about something.

Crap, Viktor thought, wincing as Yuuri roughly pulled off his gloves and threw them down just as angrily. Yuuri hated it when Viktor looked away while he worked; Vitya knew it made him feel worse about his own insecurities whenever Viktor showed even the slightest bit of discomfort in his presence.

"We're done here," he barked, slamming the toolbox closed and searching his pockets for a cigarette. Viktor glanced at the vor, still lying on the floor, mutilated beyond recognition but still clearly alive, though he wouldn't be for too long, not in that condition.

"Yuuri..." he said softly, knowing he was stepping on thin ice.

"What?" came the reply. His tone was dangerous, as if daring Vitya to pick a fight.

"Are we... are we just gonna leave him here?"

Yuuri shot him a disgusted look.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I mean, aren't... aren't we gonna call the police or just put him out of his misery or something?"

Yuuri laughed, but it wasn't a warm laugh, or even a cruel one. It was just cold, empty, though Viktor thought he could hear anger somewhere in it.

"He doesn't deserve that," he said simply. He walked away, leaving Viktor standing there alone with the vor.

The silence in the car was deafening. Yuuri stared out the window, tapping his fingers irritably against his knee as he smoked cigarette after cigarette. He knew that Viktor hated cigarette smoke, and that he hated seeing Yuuri smoke at all, so he made a point to keep the window closed. Viktor didn't say anything, trying not to push his lover further as he drove.

He's been in a bad mood for weeks, Vitya reasoned, trying to stay calm. Yuuri hadn't wanted to be pakhan in the first place, but when Mikhail died two months earlier, he'd ended up in the role he'd always insisted he would never take. Vitya felt guilty about it; it should have been his inheritance, but he'd long since proved he didn't have the temperament or drive to lead a crime syndicate. The entire inner circle was against him taking his father's place, and after being pressured from all sides, Yuuri finally gave in, with the condition that Viktor act as his sovietnik.

And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, he groaned inwardly as he clicked on the turn signal. His job was simple, in theory; follow everything the pakhan asked of him, and question none of his orders. But Viktor had never trained to be a subordinate, and while he'd acted as Yuuri's support and lover over the past four years, it was completely different when it came down to a professional relationship. Something had changed between them, and Viktor wasn't sure how to adjust, especially when Yuuri was already in such a vulnerable place to begin with.

It was hard enough learning how to be his boyfriend, and now I can't even do that right, he sighed. He realized a moment too late that he'd done so out loud.

"What was that?" Yuuri asked suddenly, obviously looking for a fight.

Shit.

"N-Nothing," Viktor said, far too quickly.

"If you have a problem, spit it out."

"I don't... it's nothing, Yuuri."

"I told you to spit. It. Out."

"I really didn't-"

"Don't lie-!"

"Yuuri! That's enough!"

He hadn't meant to shout, but Viktor was tired of all the aggression, of Yuuri snapping over the simplest things.

"That's enough," he repeated, his knuckles pale around the steering wheel. "I know you're stressed, but you can't keep doing this, Yuratchka."

Yuuri didn't say a word, but Viktor knew he'd crossed a line.

"Stop the car," Yuuri finally said, his voice hoarse.

"... I can't do that."

"Stop the fucking car, now," Yuuri hissed, and when Viktor glanced over, he saw that he'd pulled out his gun, aiming it directly at his face.

"If you think staring down a gun is going to make me stop, you're wrong," Viktor said quietly, his eyes on the road.

"I'm not playing around, Viktor."

"Neither am I, Yuuri."

Yuuri made a furious noise and slammed his own foot down on the brake. It was a good thing that it was late and there weren't any other cars on the road, or they would have definitely caused an accident. For a moment neither of them moved, Yuuri close enough for Vitya to touch, close enough to hear his agitated breathing.

And then Yuuri pulled away, pushing the passenger door open.

"You can fucking walk home, you asshole," Yuuri snarled as he shot both of the right side tires. "And don't you dare come looking for me, or I swear I'll kill you."

It took Viktor a moment to collect his senses, but by the time he'd thrown open the door to call after him, Yuuri had disappeared into the night.

He sat in the car for about twenty minutes, beating himself up over it.

"God, that was fucking stupid," he groaned, pulling his hair back harshly. "Oh yes, Vitya, just fucking confront the emotionally volatile gang boss, let's just fucking piss him off and see what happens! Let's shout at him and disobey a direct order! God fucking damn it!"

It was pointless, but yelling out his frustrations at least let him feel a little more clearheaded. He covered his face, feeling a headache coming on.

"I want my Yuuri back," he muttered, feeling terrible even as he said it. He wasn't even sure what he meant by it; he couldn't tell if he was pining for the little brother that had died so long ago, or for the uncertain, vulnerable young man he'd been sleeping with under their mother and father's nose for the past couple of years. They seemed equally unreachable now, replaced by this moody, violent murderer that Vitya could barely recognize.

"No, that's not true," he sighed, leaning back in the seat and staring up at the ceiling. Yuuri had always been like this, ever since he came back from America. The bloodlust and anger were there; there just hadn't been a reason for them to show themselves. Not like now.

"I'm the worst," he said, feeling the corners of his eyes sting. "I keep trying to separate all the different sides of Yuuri's personality for my own convenience... What the hell is wrong with me?!"

He had a feeling he knew the answer, but he didn't want to admit that love could be such an ugly, selfish thing.

Yuuri couldn't decide if he was angry or hurt. It was probably impossible to separate the two, but his emotions were fluctuating so violently from one extreme to the other that it seemed impossible for a human being to feel so much at once. He wanted to hurt Viktor, he wanted to shoot him and make him bleed, he wanted to hit him with everything he had and wipe that stupid, betrayed look off his pretty face.

Stop looking at me like that! He thought, clenching his teeth as he walked aimlessly, not caring where he went. Stop looking, stop pitying me! I can't help being sick like this, I can't help that this is who I am!

His nails dug into his palm as he wondered what had happened to the Viktor who'd promised him the world and more. He'd always been patient and sweet and caring... Yuuri had known it was all out of guilt, but the last few years had been dreamlike, in their own, difficult and complicated way.

But now... all I can see is that frightened expression... he's disgusted by me, I can see it...

Yuuri had never wanted to go back into life in the bratva, and this was the reason why; he knew he was made for it, he knew he enjoyed it. Torture was his drug, his high, but after Nikita, it had been a drug he'd been determined to quit.

So much for that, he thought, kicking a rock angrily. He'd hoped, naively, stupidly, that nothing would change between them even after their father died, but Yuuri just couldn't ignore the way Viktor looked at him when he thought Yuuri wasn't paying attention.

"It hurts..." he admitted, sniffling slightly and feeling like an idiot child for letting it get to him like that. "I want to go back... Take me back, Vitya..."

"Yeah... Just outside town. No, well, two of my tires are- Is that Georgi?! No, I don't want to talk to him, Mila!" Viktor said hurriedly, but it was too late, the phone had been handed over to Mila's subordinate.

"Viktor Mikhailovich, good evening," came the deep, measured voice.

Vitya sighed.

"Yeah, good evening, Georgi. Can you please pass me back to Mila now?"

"Just a moment. Wasn't Yuri Mikhailovich supposed to be with you?"

"... I don't wanna talk about this, Georgi," he said irritably. "I just want a lift."

"Mila Yakovlevna can't drive," he pointed out.

Sure she can; she's just not exactly legal. But none of us are, so it hardly matters, Viktor thought. He decided not to say that aloud.

"Let her decide that for herself," he sighed. "I know you're dying to give me advice on my love life, but seriously, I don't want it."

"But everyone knows things have been rocky-"

"I SAID I DIDN'T WANT IT, GEORGI."

The avtorityet made a small indignant noise over the receiver.

"Fine. Don't come crying to me later, commander."

"Yeah I won't," Viktor muttered under his breath. To his relief, Mila was the next one to answer.

"You said you were outside town?" she asked.

"Just past the north bridge," he explained.

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said. "Hey Rodya! Hand over your keys!"

He heard an outraged reply but the line cut off a moment later.

Yuuri wasn't sure how long it was before he got tired of walking. It seemed to be hours, but the sky was still dark, and since it was spring, it was probably still late at night. His phone had died, and he had no idea where he was, but he found he didn't really care. He wasn't even angry anymore.

I want to go home, he thought, but he wasn't thinking of the Nikiforov house, or even of the faint memory of Japan hidden in his subconsciousness. He didn't really know where he wanted to go; he just wanted to return somewhere.

Losing their father had been hard, but it was more than Mikhail's death weighing on his mind. It was more than even his relationship with Vitya. Yuuri was just...

Tired.

So, very... tired.

"Thanks for coming, Mila."

"No problem," she said from the passenger seat, her red hair blowing slightly in the air from the open window. "Thank Kolya for driving," she added. Nikolay chuckled.

"Well, I couldn't let the commander go out alone at this hour," he said. "Who knows how many corpses she'd leave in her wake?"

"I'm not that bad of a driver," she huffed.

"I wasn't talking about driving, ma'am."

"Ah, in that case, I see your point," she said cheerfully, leaning against the door. "Do you know where Papa went, Vitya?" she asked, her eyes reflecting in the mirror.

"Not a clue," Viktor sighed. "I don't know what to do anymore. Everything I do just sets him off..."

"Being pakhan isn't easy," Kolya said carefully. "Perhaps Yuri Mikhailovich just needs time to adjust."

If time was enough, we wouldn't be in this situation, Viktor thought bitterly.

Mila sat quietly for a minute.

"Hey, Viktor..."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know Papa all that well... I mean, we met a couple of times at bratva gatherings, but he's always kept to himself. In my eyes, he was always kind of moody and anxious. He only changed when you came back. Right now, he reminds me of the boy I saw before that."

"He... was like this before?"

"Mm," she replied simply. "I didn't know he could be different, up until you were there. He never smiled before that."

Viktor wasn't sure what to say. The Yuuri he'd been with up until now had seemed so fragile and broken. Far worse than the little boy he'd left behind, far more frightened and confused than he'd ever seen anyone act. Not once did Vitya ever think that was an improvement, and the thought hurt him to his core.

Just how much did you suffer when I was gone, Yuratchka?!

He didn't know. He'd only scratched the surface, only gathered the bare minimum. He was afraid to know more. He was afraid to find out more. It had been enough before, but now...

We can't continue like this, he realized, his heart aching painfully. I can't ignore the things I don't want to see. I can't look away; I lost that right long ago.

I have to let him in, or I'm going to lose him.

He looked up to tell Mila that he was grateful for her comment, but something caught his eye on the road and he nearly strangled himself with the seat belt.

"STOP THE CAR, KOLYA!" he cried, and he didn't wait to see if they were really stopping before he ripped the belt off and threw the door open. He landed on his shoulder, rolling painfully on the ground for a few feet, but he ignored the pain and got to his feet immediately.

"YUURI! YUURI!" he shouted, hoping he could make his voice reach before it was too late.

The bridge wasn't that high, but Yuuri had never been all that great of a swimmer. He hadn't even bothered to weigh down his pockets or shoes; he had no plans to fight the current.

In the movies, this is the part where people wonder if it hurts to die, he thought, unable to resist a small, exhausted sort of laugh. I wonder when it was that I stopped feeling physical pain...

He really couldn't remember. At some point, it didn't matter if he was being beaten or raped or cut, it was all the same thing. They were hurting more than his body, so it didn't matter how many bruises they left.

"Hey, Nikita..." he said aloud. "Are you waiting for me, after I jump? You said people like us have a special place in hell, so if you're there, I'm sure I'll be following you."

He wasn't sure if he was sickened or relieved at the thought.

At least... at least Nikita wasn't afraid of me, he admitted to himself.

"You were right," he said, letting his voice carry away on the cold wind. "Only someone as sick and twisted as you could understand me. All I did was hurt and defile the people I cared about. I tried to atone, Nikita. I really did. But... I don't care if it's not enough anymore. I'm done."

His cheeks stung with cold, his tears blurring his vision.

"Sorry, Mama. I can't do this anymore," he sobbed, pressing a hand to his mouth.

Sorry, Vitya, for dragging you around all these years so selfishly.

He felt like there was more he should say, but he didn't know what. He took one step into nothingness.

And heard his name, as if from far away.

"YUURI!"

The water was ice cold, burning into his lungs, ripping into his skin and bones like knives. He hadn't stopped to think, hadn't paused to wonder what might happen to him when he jumped over the railing after Yuuri. It was only after he was already in the river, desperately trying to cling to Yuuri's sleeve, that he realized there was a very real possibility that they might both drown.

For a moment, for one, dark, cold moment, he hesitated. This was what Yuuri wanted. No one had forced him to jump, no one had pushed him. And...

Isn't this what I've wanted too?

For the first time in over a year, he thought of Luci, as clearly as he had right after she'd died. She was always in his thoughts, but this was different.

If he just let go, he could see her again. All he had to do was close his eyes and let the water carry him away.

No, that's wrong, another part of him said. You will never go to the same place as Luci. Not if you let Yuratchka die here.

If I save him, nothing will change, he argued with himself. He'll just continue to suffer, and I won't be able to do anything to help.

But he knew that was selfish and self-serving. It was only an excuse, just like the excuses he'd given Nicole when he'd been too afraid to face his parents.

It's time to stop being a coward, Vitya. If you love him, you have to accept all of him. Everything. No matter how dark.

If you love him, save him.

Save him from himself.

Someone was hitting him. His ribs felt like they might crack under the pressure, but he was so disoriented that Yuuri couldn't understand what was happening.

Then he coughed, violent and painful, and he felt something wet run over his lips and chin.

He gasped for breath, his hands automatically reaching for the closest thing they could clutch. Something cold and clammy took them almost immediately, and then someone was pulling him into a painfully tight embrace, crying senselessly into his shoulder.

"Yuuri, oh God, Yuuri!"

"Vitya?" he asked, his voice cracked. He only got a wail for a reply, and then Yuuri remembered.

Oh. I jumped.

His heart sank as he realized he was still alive. Viktor must have jumped in after him.

"Fuck, I can't even die properly," he groaned, and he was shocked when a moment later Vitya pushed him away and slapped him so hard his neck cracked. His blue eyes were livid, and Yuuri was reminded painfully of their mother.

"You... You!" But Viktor didn't seem to have any words left. He sunk forward into Yuuri's lap, crying his heart out, his shoulders heaving.

Yuuri blinked, confused, but automatically reached to pat his head for some reason.

"... Idiot," he said. "I'm the one who wants to cry..."

"Please, Yuuri, please, don't leave me," Vitya managed to say, his voice strained.

Yuuri didn't know how to respond to that. It seemed wrong somehow, for Viktor to be saying something so desperate. Yuuri was sure he'd imagined it later, once they were both bundled up in blankets in the back of Kolya's car.

It was only when Viktor took his hand, clutching it fiercely in both of his own, that Yuuri felt like maybe, just maybe, there was still a home for him to return to.

Notes:

Aaaand I am back, with extra pain and Katerina Grade Sufferguns.™

Before you ask, no, I'm not uploading chapter sixteen yet. That's because I'm still working on something for Part One, which you can check up on the SepAnx tag on my tumblr (limitofquestions). I'll be updating that over the next couple of weeks, so I suggest keeping an eye on it and on my twitter (Okaeri_Kairi). In the meantime, I'll be uploading several requests from March and April, most of which are SepAnx related anyway.

Thanks for being so patient while I was off saving Hyrule! I hope you'll enjoy this and all the other projects I'm slowly but surely getting around to! I look forward to hearing from you~