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Mika had waited for a chance to catch Arrow alone for weeks before he finally found him, fruitlessly beating hell out of a punching bag in the middle of the day. He had a suspicion that Arrow had been avoiding him – he could think of no other reason it had been so unbelievably difficult to stop him when he saw him in tunnels, why he was always headed somewhere else in a rush if they crossed paths over breakfast or in the showers – but he would not say so. He was not offended over it; they were too old and knew each other too well to be concerned for long over whether one was bearing some kind of grudge against the other, but he had heard whispers of Arrow's reason for returning, and he wondered if the man he'd trained alongside for so many years had changed as a result.

Mika had been hurt, though he'd never mentioned that to a soul, when Arrow had chosen humanity over the clan. They hadn't quarrelled over it – Mika had made clear that he felt the decision unwise, but when that fell on deaf ears Mika had accepted his choice and the two had parted as friends.

He had only ever met Arrow's human wife once. It was more than anybody else – but for a pair as close as they had once been, it felt a lot like he'd missed out on the most important emotional experience of Arrow's life by not getting to know her a little better. He hadn't ever fully understood Arrow's near-obsession with her; but then again, thankfully, they'd never exactly had the same taste in women.

Sarah was pretty, certainly, with tumbling copper curls and warm brown eyes, tiny in comparison to her husband – the epitome of femininity. When Mika had spoken to her he'd been surprised at how clever she seemed. There was something about Arrow that had made Mika suspect he might have liked a girl with more beauty than brains, but Sarah had not been that girl at all – though she had been a little too sweet for Mika, she was certainly a woman with a mind of her own, witty and observant. She'd had no problem with Arrow's colourful past, no worries over his vampirism – all she cared about was that she loved him, and it mattered very little to her whether that meant "keeping the curtains closed".

The way she joked about it had shocked Mika at first – had she no idea the hardships of the life he and Arrow faced, what they'd been through? – but really, she had meant no harm. She understood Arrow better than anyone Mika had ever met other than perhaps himself, and respected that he'd chosen to be a vampire and chosen to be with her as well, however mismatched the two might have appeared.

As slighted as Mika had felt when Arrow had left to be with her, he had realized on meeting her why Arrow might have chosen to do so. Sarah was level-headed and had no intention of forcing him to choose between his life as a vampire and his life with her. It was more acceptance and understanding than Mika had thought possible from a human – relationships with human women had always seemed to end in tragedy.

It turned out, in the long run, that Arrow and Sarah's had been no exception.

"I think you've won," Mika joked facetiously, watching Arrow's one-sided boxing match. He had been focusing so hard on causing the inanimate object as much harm as possible that he hadn't noticed Mika behind him before that, and he swung around with fire in his eyes, as though he expected an enemy in Vampire Mountain of all places. Mika just stared back at him quizzically, and Arrow eventually let his fists drop.

"Who did you think I was?" Mika laughed, puzzled, as Arrow turned back to his training.

"Sorry," he said gruffly. "I was thinking about something else."

Mika had no need to ask what. He'd heard stories about Arrow already from various sources – reliable to varying degrees – but he'd also heard the tale of Arrow in the midst of war-torn France on a killing spree from Vancha March himself. It was fortunate that he had lived through it, but then he supposed Arrow meeting his match was relatively unlikely. He'd always been a fearsome fighter, even when they had only been half-vampires. Mika believed he himself had only learnt so quickly out of fear of being ripped to shreds by the older assistant when they were young, and the memory made him smile despite his worries for his oldest friend.

Mika was silent for a while, wondering the best way to approach the situation as a whole, and Arrow let out a frustrated sigh after only a few moments. "Just ask me how I am," he growled impatiently. "And get it over with. Everybody asks; I suppose I can let you ask as well if you want to."

The dark General quirked an eyebrow. "Alright," he said, torn between amusement, awkwardness and concern. "It has been a while, old friend. How are you?"

"Terrible," the other vampire responded bluntly. Mika got the feeling this wasn't the answer he fobbed everyone else off with, and though it pained him to hear how Arrow was struggling, he was comforted to know that he still remembered their past together. They were more family than friends, and though he had been gone for years, Mika felt that deep down nothing between them had changed at all. "Vancha March and a few of his little General friends called me off the chase. I suppose you've heard."

"Indeed," Mika said, sitting down across from him. Arrow, noticing this, finally gave up pointlessly battering a piece of gym equipment and sat down as well, exhausted.

"I have to admit," Arrow said after a moment. "I wished one of March's party of well-wishers had been you. Nothing could ever knock some sense into me quite like one of your death looks."

Mika chuckled, and then set his eyes at the ground. He felt a little guilty that he had not been the one to follow Arrow and somewhat rescue him from himself, but – and he felt selfish for it now – he and Arra had had their hearts set on travelling long before they left the Mountain long before they were informed of Arrow's struggle. In the end, despite their ambitions to travel around Asia, they had barely made it across the border. And partly, though he preferred his original explanation, Mika had not wanted to see Arrow, a man who he would always look up to, become such an emotional wreck.

It was an awfully selfish set of reasons, and he made a decision not to voice them, but felt it necessary to apologize anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was occupied by the time Vancha informed me."

"So I've heard," Arrow muttered cryptically, and Mika thought Vancha had probably already filled him in, in hindsight – the two had travelled back together after all.

He said nothing about it though, rubbing one of the arrow tattoos on the side of his head and cracking his sore knuckles. He trained long and hard these days; anything to take his mind away from the loss of his wife, and anything to catch up on the years he'd missed while he'd been living like a human. Arrow had not lived up to his potential – taking so many years out to explore what his life could have been had he never been blooded had left him far behind his peers. Mika, who had always followed him, was now his superior.

Watching the humans around him age so quickly had left him feeling as though life in Vampire Mountain passed exceptionally slowly – but now that he was back he realized that though those he remembered hadn't physically changed much, there had been abundant changes in their lives that he'd missed.
"You've done well for yourself by all accounts," he continued. "You are so well respected now. Although March mentioned that you have an assistant who is half your apprentice and half your puppeteer. I'd be very interested to meet anybody fitting that description."

Mika smiled tightly, but didn't react to the question other than that. There were more important things at hand. "Do you intend to go back?" Mika asked abruptly. He was worried that Arrow might have been planning to get his strength back up at the Mountain and then leave again to finish his murderous crusade. "To continue the killing? I know you came back with Vancha, but you never were one to leave business unfinished."

"Perhaps," Arrow said thoughtfully, hardly erasing Mika's fears. "Although that young Wester Flack gave me a few things to think about. It may not be necessary for me to go back. At least, I may not be fighting them alone."

The words sounded ominous, and Mika's brow furrowed. Wester wasn't exactly well liked – he was a good enough guard, and very capable, but Mika was not the only vampire to find his views both unsettling and obnoxious. In Mika's opinion, the far more open-minded, if troubled, Larten Crepsley did a service to the clan by keeping him in line. Mika would never understand how two such different men could have both been assistants to the ageing Seba Nile, who was nothing if not a traditionalist – it almost seemed amusing that he had blooded one man who was a confused but noble recluse from the clan, and another who was anything but confused about his beliefs about the future of the clan, and nothing if not dedicated to his life at the Mountain.

"I've never much liked Wester," Mika said cautiously. If Arrow's temper was as bad as he remembered, Mika knew he would do well to broach the issue carefully. He flicked his eyes up to look at the bald vampire, who sat staring down at his broad, scarred hands, looking for all the world like he was contemplating the bloodshed they had brought about. Mika prided himself on his diplomacy, and when Arrow did not look too offended by his initial statement, he carried on. "He wishes for too much change in the clan," he said. "He does not appreciate the need for the delicate truce we have with the Vampaneze to remain."

Arrow grunted. "Neither do I," he said, but deep down, Mika knew that wasn't entirely true. Arrow was furious, still, about what had happened to him, but Mika already knew he wouldn't realistically be joining Wester's crusade.

Mika smiled sadly. "The truth is, you do not mean that."

Arrow growled under his breath. It looked like he was tired of being told that he didn't really hate the Vampaneze the way he said he did. It was purely because the Arrow that had left the Mountain years ago was known for being tough – harsh, even – but fair.

"Everything is different now," he snarled, standing up again and pacing in front of Mika, seemingly torn between setting on the punching bag again and finding something else to tear to pieces. "Vancha was right," he admitted. "It was wrong to seek out those Vampaneze just to challenge them."

Mika nodded. He'd known as soon as he'd heard that Arrow would live to regret those decisions.

"But I will never forget this," the older vampire continued. He stood completely still, eyes trained on Mika as if he judged him immensely for his past dealings and negotiations with the Vampaneze. He stared at his brother almost as if he was ruined simply from his brief associations with them. "The world would be a better place if they were wiped out," he spat. "But, unfortunately, this is not the time for it, and I am not the right man for the job."

"No, you're not," Mika agreed. Arrow looked angry for a second before he continued. "You were so well-respected, when you left," he remembered. Those days were now fond memories of less complicated times. "I think it will be a blessing for the clan that you've returned before you found a Vampaneze capable of doing you any serious damage. In a few years, if you hate the Vampaneze as much as you say, you might be able to use your position as a General or a Prince, even, to do some damage to them."

Mika didn't mean that. He wouldn't have approved, even taking into account Sarah's brutal slaughter, of any large-scale attempt by the vampires to wipe out their old adversaries. But it was a necessary lie – Arrow was grasping in the dark for something to hold onto, seeking out some purpose, and the one thing Mika could think to give him was the promise of power. He was only a few years from being nominated as a Prince himself, and he imagined the two of them together in a few decades, leading the clan to a stronger future.

It looked like Arrow was significantly taken by that idea. He didn't manage a smile, but he nodded vehemently and stared off ahead, as though already planning the sort of revenge he might exact when one day he had an army at his disposal.

"It is also a blessing that you have returned for other reasons," Mika continued, interrupting Arrow's fantasies of bloodshed. He reached out for a rough handshake – neither of them had exactly an affectionate nature, but there was every bit as much emotion in that as there might have been in an embrace. It was awful to watch Arrow in pain, and it was unpleasant to see how much Sarah's death had shaped and changed his views, but it was wonderful all the same. "I have missed you."

Though the pain in his eyes remained, Arrow finally did manage a tight smile.

"I have missed you too."

It was too soon for anything else, and Mika didn't bother trying to draw him into any further conversation when he was so clearly occupied with his own thoughts. It wasn't even worth attempting to comfort him – Mika could think of very little that he could say that would remove any of the pain of losing his wife – but he stayed there until midnight, watching Arrow attack various items in the Sports Hall, and in reality that was comfort enough.