The next morning, Johnny got up early and drove. Traffic had returned to normal, so there were few things to distract him from his music as he hit the road. Johnny bobbed his head to The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil" while hardly realizing he was doing so, occasionally looking out the side window when something caught his attention, like the electricians still toiling away at trying to restore power to all the buildings in Reseda.

Once he arrived at his destination and pulled into the parking lot, he remained seated for a few minutes, staring at the place. Maybe if he waited long enough, the problem would come to him instead of forcing him to go looking for it. But he had more balls than that. He hadn't been proactive that morning to lose his nerve now.

Johnny got out of the car and walked into the building, bypassing the woman in charge, who talked with a man about the blackout. He kept a determined step all the way up the stairs until he came to the room he was looking for. Standing at the doorframe he stared inside, narrowing his eyes at the old man sitting on one of the cots.

Kreese looked across at him. The two men stared at one another for a silent, agonizing minute, like two cobras with their hoods spread, waiting to see who would blink first so the other might strike. But snakes didn't blink. Kreese, however, did smile, which looked about as sincere as it did on a serpent. "Johnny, what a surprise. It's good to see you again. What brings you all the way out in my neck of the woods?"

"How about you cut the bullshit? You know damn well why I'm here," countered Johnny, stepping into the room.

The smile on Kreese's face faltered, but he retained his steady glare. "You think I'm a mind-reader now, Mr. Lawrence?"

"Save it, I'm not playing any more of your games." Johnny's fists clenched by his sides. Kreese didn't flinch a muscle. Even now he thought he was the one with the power, and Johnny had to remind himself that his old Sensei had none in this situation. "I heard you talked to one of my students yesterday."

"Ah, is that why you're riled up?" asked Kreese, raising his eyebrows. Johnny bristled at his condescending tone, at the way he talked down to him like he was still a teenager. "Yes, I talked to Hawk for a few minutes. Just a little catching up, seeing how he was doing in your class. He's a talented boy, good soldiers like that shouldn't go to waste."

His tone gave it an innocent framing, but Johnny knew better. Kreese always knew what he was doing. He understood the effect he had on people. Every word chosen deliberately. "I'm only going to tell you this once," stated Johnny. "Stay away from my students."

"Or what?" challenged Kreese, the inflection in his voice dropping the faux affability. "This is a free country, last I checked."

Johnny's fists clenched on reflex. "I'm not gonna let you play head games with any of my kids like you did with me," he promised.

Kreese grinned hard again and dismissively shook his head at him. "'Head games'? Don't you think you're exaggerating a little, Johnny?"

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch," snapped Johnny, "you should count yourself lucky we're even talking about this at all and you're not eating pavement right now!"

As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, Johnny tried swallowing the anger behind them back down. It's what Kreese wanted, to get a rise out of him, to make him revert back to habits he'd taught him. And Johnny was tempted, so very tempted. It would have felt wonderful to slam his fist into his old Sensei's smug face, to hear knuckles crack against bone as he unleashed over thirty years' of pent-up rage and hurt in a swift act of retribution. Kreese deserved it. But Johnny reminded himself to stay calm.

He didn't doubt for a second that Kreese saw through his feeble attempt at collecting himself, that he could spot that simmering fury he'd lit all those years ago in him boiling under the lid. "You're still shoveling that mercy horseshit?" his Sensei asked. "Do you think I'm impressed you've turned out to be such a pussy?"

"No, I think you're really sick," retorted Johnny, not rising to his bait. For a brief moment, he recalled the last time he told his Sensei that, and had to remind himself again that he was the one with the power now, he was the new King Cobra; there would be no repeat of what happened in the parking lot all those years ago.

That got Kreese to pinch his eyebrows and frown. "Oh, so I'm sick, am I?" he asked, running a hand over his worn knuckles. Whether he did it out of old habit or as an intimidation tactic, Johnny didn't know; it didn't matter.

Johnny repeated, "Yeah, really. You think we're all soldiers in this war you've convinced yourself exists. But none of us were. Not Hawk, Miguel, and the others. And neither were me, Bobby, Tommy, any of us. We weren't your soldiers, we were your students. We trusted you. We didn't sign up for a drill sergeant. What we needed was a Sensei, a Sensei who would look out for our best interests."

Kreese leveled an impenetrable stare at him. "Are you finished?" he asked with derision. Still treating him like a subordinate. It was all he knew how to do.

Narrowing his eyes, what Johnny wanted to tell him was that, no, he wasn't finished. A part of him longed to scream at Kreese and emphasize that things didn't have to end this way. Why couldn't Kreese have just treated him like his equal? Why couldn't he respect him and his teaching methods? Why was he so afraid of being without complete and total control that he tried stealing away everything? Why couldn't he see that if all he cared about was passing on his legacy, Johnny was carrying it on in his own way?

But Johnny said none of that. Instead, he shook his head and stated, "Yeah, I'm done." He then reached into his flannel pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He wanted to throw it in Kreese's face but instead showed enough restraint to walk over and set it down on his trunk at the head of the bed. "This is the number of people who help vets," he explained. "You know, with, like, dealing with everything they've seen and shit."

Kreese scoffed in contempt at that. "You think I'm going to call some shrink?" he asked, his timbre low and hostile.

"Call 'em or don't call 'em, I don't care," replied Johnny, shrugging his shoulders. "But this, you and me? We're through after today." Or at least they better have been.

He turned around to leave, only to realize he had one more thing to say. Looking over his shoulder at Kreese, then down at the paper, then back to Kreese again, Johnny told him, "All those times you told us that fear does not exist in this dojo…and you're too scared to get the help you obviously need."

He watched his Sensei's reaction, how being called a coward hardened Kreese's face like cold granite. Yet, behind it, did Johnny detect a hint of shame?

Or was that what he hoped to see?

By that afternoon, the technicians repaired the generators and restored electricity to Reseda. And after that bit of good news, Miguel found himself being strong-armed by his grandmother into going to the convenience store to pick up a jug of milk, seeing as how the one they had sat all night and morning in a fridge without power. He'd tried to argue that it was fine, but his Ya-Ya wasn't taking chances with him drinking potentially spoiled milk. So Miguel did as she told him and rode to Nestor's store to grab a gallon.

Stuffing the jug of milk in his bag after paying, Miguel stepped outside and got ready to hop on his scooter when he spotted Sensei Lawrence walking out of the Cobra Kai dojo. He had a cardboard box in his hands. "Hey, Sensei, you're here early," he called out. "I thought practice wasn't until four."

"I had some junk I had to come get," explained Sensei Lawrence, opening the trunk of his car before setting the box inside. He jutted his chin at Miguel. "Want a ride back to the apartments?"

Miguel beamed. "Sure!" He folded up his scooter and ran over so he could put it in the trunk as well. While he stored it there, he couldn't help but take a peek inside the box. A framed picture sitting on the top grabbed his immediate attention: a much younger Sensei Kreese, dressed in a military uniform, carrying a rifle.

Then the trunk closed, blocking it from his sight. Sensei Lawrence must have noticed him looking.

Miguel managed to get into the passenger seat before asking, "What are you gonna do with that stuff?" He didn't mean to pry but with everyone talking about Mr. Kreese lately, he couldn't help but be curious.

Sensei Lawrence started the car. "Haven't decided yet."

Part of Johnny wanted to toss all that shit in the garbage, where it probably belonged. Another part thought he should do the half-decent thing and mail the box to the homeless shelter. He decided to sleep on it a night before coming to a final decision.

But that was a secondary concern at the moment. Johnny knew he needed to focus on something else now. "While we're here, you and I need to have a quick talk," he told Miguel, driving out of the parking lot.

An instinctive lump formed in the back of Miguel's throat from the way Sensei Lawrence said that. Things were about to get personal. "About what, Sensei?"

"Since I started dating your mom, do you think things have changed between you and me?"

Miguel gaped at his Sensei. "Changed how?" He was both dreading and excited about where this line of questioning might be leading. Had Sensei somehow picked up on how he'd been feeling lately?

Turning the corner, Sensei Lawrence responded, "Well before this I was just your badass Sensei. But what do you think I am now?"

Miguel then knew his mother must have said something to Sensei Lawrence last night at dinner. She'd seen right through his act in the living room. Of course she did. He racked his brain to think of the right answer to that question before he realized there was no correct response. So he could only shrug. "I don't know."

"Look, I know things must be pretty confusing for you lately," said Johnny, giving him a quick, sympathetic glance from the corners of his eyes before turning his sight back on the road, "and the longer me and your mom go out, it's probably only going to get even more unclear."

Miguel frowned, sinking some into his seat. "Yeah, I know."

Johnny stopped at the red light and eyed Miguel again. The kid looked pretty down. And then there was a moment when Johnny heard the voice again, taunting him that he was going to be a let-down. How could he start to cross that paternal line for Miguel when he had only recently stepped up as a real dad for Robby? Shit, if it came down to it, how could he think about potentially becoming a stepdad at all if his only role model to go off of was Sid?

He told that voice to shut the hell up. Hadn't he stepped out of Kreese's shadow and turned Cobra Kai into something worthwhile? One of the things he was most proud of as Sensei was how he'd gotten to the point where his kids had come to trust him, in a way even he'd never had with Kreese. Now he had a chance to go a step further with Miguel. Nothing was stopping him. He was a Cobra in a shiny new skin.

Tapping the pedal when the light turned green, Johnny continued. "You already know I'm on your side as your Sensei, right?" Beside him, Miguel nodded. "Well, while you and me figure out where things start going from here, you need to know that's still true. And if you need more from me, all you gotta do is tell me."

It was only then that Miguel fully grasped that he didn't know what to expect. He understood on an emotional level what he wanted, but he had no real clue how it would look, much less how to put it into words. What did Sensei taking on a more fatherly, or step-fatherly, role even look like in his mind? Certainly not suggesting they go out on Saturdays to shoot hoops, or hugging for no reason, right? He was still Sensei, after all. Then again, maybe.

They were in uncharted waters, Sensei Lawrence was right about that. Miguel knew then he would have to take it one day at a time. He would have to be patient. It wasn't exactly the clear-cut answer to his problems he'd been hoping for, but Miguel was coming to realize life rarely provided those.

Sensei Lawrence gave him another look while he drove down the road that would lead to Reseda Heights. "But the only way this is going to work is if you feel like you can come talk to me about it, alright?"

Miguel nodded. "Yes, Sensei." He hesitated for a second, ready to dip his toe into those uncharted waters. They had to start somewhere, didn't they? And if he could swim in a pool with his hands tied, he could do this. "Since you say that, I was wondering about something."

Pulling into the parking lot, Sensei Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yesterday I saw you had a new pic of Robby on the fridge," said Miguel. "I mean, I wasn't being nosy or anything, it just caught my attention while we were talking. Did you want a pic of mom to go up there, too? And…maybe one of me?"

Sensei Lawrence parked in his regular spot, and in the few seconds it took for him to respond, Miguel was almost sure his stomach twisted into a thousand knots. He mentally berated himself, wondering if he had come across as too whiny and insecure. But then his Sensei said, "Alright, if your mom's okay with it," and Miguel let out a deep breath, leaning his head back on the headrest, releasing the tension from his muscles.

As they got out of the car, Johnny asked, "Is your mom home right now?"

"Yeah, she's still got a few hours before work," answered Miguel. "Wanna come in for a bit?"

When they stepped into the apartment, Carmen was sitting at the kitchen table, going through the mail. She threw up a quick smile at her son before making eye contact with Johnny. He looked back, and their gazes lingered as Miguel took off and unzipped his backpack.

"Hey, Mom, I got the milk like Ya-Ya wanted," announced Miguel, pulling the jug out and setting it on the table. His eyes then shifted between his mother and Sensei, noticing how they were looking at each other. "Uh, I guess I'll be going to my room," he said, gesticulating awkwardly over his shoulder with his thumb. "Probably should work on that English paper that's due on Tuesday before practice. So, yeah, gonna go do that now."

After Miguel strolled to his bedroom and shut his door, Johnny turned to Carmen. "I had a talk with him in the car, about the things we were talking about yesterday."

Carmen took the milk and put it away in the refrigerator. "And how'd it go?"

"Sounded to me like he got all of it," said Johnny, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter, eyeing the way Carmen stood back up straight after closing the fridge. His gaze then drifted to the refrigerator itself, noticing the pictures magnetized on it: ones of Miguel at various stages of his life, some with his mother, others with his grandmother, school pics, sports pics, seemingly random pics. "He asked me to put up a couple pictures of you and him on my fridge. You okay with that?"

Carmen followed his gaze to the photographs on the fridge. She guessed that must have been what triggered Miguel's odd behavior the previous day. "Yes, that's fine."

"For yours, how about that pic I took last weekend at the boardwalk? Have I ever told how great you look in that red dress?" That got Carmen to smile that particular smile Johnny liked to see. A small smirk curled around the corner of his mouth, happy to see it. "And if you want to start leaving any of your personal things over at my place, that's cool with me. Maybe a toothbrush?"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Carmen playfully retorted, "Maybe if we didn't live right across from each other."

"Fair enough," chuckled Johnny. Uncrossing his arms, he closed the space between them. Carmen glanced at him expectantly, but he had one more thing to get off his mind first. "I also took care of that other thing. Thanks again for the phone number."

Carmen nodded. "Of course."

"Not sure it's gonna do any good," said Johnny with a shrug. "I bet he threw it away as soon as I left."

Carmen detected the hint of sadness in the way Johnny said that. "It's like you said," she tried assuring him. "Someone has to want to change before they can get better. You can't force them to."

"Yeah." Johnny rolled his shoulders like he was casting a heavy weight off of them. He'd done all he could, he reminded himself. "Well, either way, it's done."

"And how are you?" asked Carmen.

"Good." With that out of the way, and not wanting to linger on it anymore, Johnny brought his hands down to rest on Carmen's hips. "And what about you and me?" he asked, voice lowering. "How are we?"

Her brown eyes met his again, and that same smile as before spread over her lips. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giving him his answer with a look on her face that invited him to do more. So, raising one hand to her cheek, he guided her into a kiss, which she reciprocated with vigor. He felt her fingers across the nape of his neck, pressing him closer to her.

He guessed they were done talking for a while. That was good, because between Carmen, Hawk, Kreese, and Miguel, Johnny felt like he'd done enough talking over the past twenty-four hours. How was that for juggling?

At a quarter till four, there came a knock at the apartment door. Miguel grabbed his gym bag and answered it with expecting excitement. "Hey," he greeted, giving Hawk a fist bump. "How'd things go when you got home last night? Things back to normal in Encino?" Always better to open things with smalltalk, thought Miguel. Ease back into where they left off the previous night.

"As far as I can tell," answered Hawk. "You guys good now, too, huh?"

Miguel gestured to where his grandma was watching television in the living room. "Yep." He then called out behind him, "Ya-Ya, see you later, heading to practice!" She motioned with her hand for him to be quiet, as she was in the middle of her soap at that moment.

"You should check out your Instagram feed when you get a chance," said Hawk, taking a step backward so Miguel could walk outside. "Bert posted all these videos of the shit he got up to during the blackout and they're hilarious. He never struck me as the guy who'd survive the apocalypse, but now I'm starting to think I'd have him on my team."

Miguel chuckled, closing and locking the door behind him. "Alright, I'll check 'em out after practice." His eyes met Hawk's and he wanted to finally cut the small talk, to say something about what had happened between them before. He was always willing to ignore things that might be too embarrassing, but for important things he didn't like to let loose ends linger for too long.

It had been on the tip of Miguel's tongue when Hawk pulled his eyes away. "So did Sensei say anything about what we're doing today?" he asked, retrieving his keys from his pocket.

"Nah, he didn't bring it up, but I'm betting it's gonna be aerial kicks," Miguel said. "We haven't done those in a while. You should like that, right? You're pretty good at it."

Hawk swelled and smirked. "Actually, I was hoping we'd practice head-butting."

Miguel returned his grin. "That'd be fun, too."

They started walking towards the parking lot, and Hawk pulled a folded piece of paper out of his hoodie pocket. "By the way, this is for you."

"What's this?" asked Miguel, unfolding the paper to see for himself. A picture clipped from a newspaper, one of the articles that covered the All-Valley Tournament. He was holding up his championship trophy, and while the other guys from Cobra Kai were there, too, it was Sensei Lawrence he was standing beside. Miguel looked at Hawk for an explanation.

"Well yesterday you seemed pretty bummed about Sensei not having a pic of everyone in his apartment," said Hawk, nonchalantly rolling his shoulder as he twirled his car keys in his hand. "So I figured you can just give him that. Problem solved."

Miguel looked at the picture again. And his insides felt so much lighter for it. "It's great," he said.

"So, now are you gonna get over this funk about Keene?" Hawk inquired with a crooked smile, rolling his eyes. "Because, I gotta say, man, between you and me, it's getting a little—" He got cut off when Miguel wrapped his arms around him tightly. Surprised by the deep hug, Hawk let out an uncomfortable, breathy laugh. "Jesus Christ, you're still being clingy?" he quipped on reflex.

"You don't have to be like me," Miguel whispered by his ear. "There's nobody like you, either."

Unguarded by the sincerity of Miguel's words, Hawk wanted to think of something witty or sarcastic to say, to try and make a joke of it. Instead, he found himself enveloping his arms around Miguel's back in return, burying his face in his shoulder. He whispered back, "Thanks."

(A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the story!)