*The trio walk through the curtains to the backstage, all in different states of mind. Cameron looks like he just signed a declaration of war. DeSean looks like he just won a war. Matt looks like he's trying to remember what a war is. Still leaning heavy on DeSean, Matt steers his legs toward a folding chair. DeSean stays with him, till eventually letting him drop in the seat. Matt reaches over to the table beside him, grabbing a bottle of cold water. He straightens up hastily when he presses the cold object against the back of his neck. He blinks hard a few times, trying to force is mind back into focus.*

DeSean: You alright?

Matt: Probably. That shining wizard from Darkness cranked my neck something fierce. I only kind of remember what happened after that. We lost, right?

PD: You lost.

Matt: Fair enough. Who pinned me?

DeSean: Freya.

*Matt nods a few times, followed by placing his water back on the table. Resting his arms on his knees, he lowers his neck and back to stretch the muscles out.*

Matt: Cam, I'm sorry I lost the match. They made the right choice with you. Do your thing, man.

PD: This is the kind of thing I didn't want. I was done with wars, and blood feuds, and all of that. I was out and done. You put me here, Matt. I'm going to remember that.

Matt: If you want to hate on me, fine. It's not like I can control that. But don't talk about this is all my fault. There's not a contract in the world a person can't walk away from. You might have had the self control to keep from asking for it, but this is what you wanted. You were just hoping it wasn't going to be offered. Anyway, I'm out of here. I need to see a trainer.

DeSean: You need me to come with?

Matt: Nah, I think I have my legs under me.

*DeSean tosses Matt his Singapore cane. Matt smirks.*

Matt: Just in case?

DeSean: I figure we can upgrade you to a walker later.

Matt: PD, I...

*Matt looks around, but Cameron Jones is nowhere to be found. Who knows how much of his talk Cam even heard.*

Matt: Probably for the best.

*Matt pulls himself out of his chair, pushing hard on the table. Walking the halls back toward the trainer, a duo approaches him in the hall. One with a mic, and one with a camera. He didn't recognize them, but there was a lot of new personnel ever since the ownership changed hands.*

Woman: Matt, can you give me some thoughts on your match? We need some reactions for the company website.

Matt: Do I look glassy eyed to you?

*The woman squints slightly*

Woman: A little bit, yes.

Matt: But just a little?

Woman: Scale of one to ten, three.

Matt: Ok, yeah. We can do this. I admit I'm disappointed with my performance. I never felt like I hit a groove.

Woman: How do you think this effects the momentum of your feud with the New Hellfire Club?

Matt: See, people are still getting that wrong. I'm not feuding with the Club. I do have issues with people in that group, but you're making it look I was firing with buckshot. It wasn't a blanketed statement. In fact, I've no problem with being pinned by Freya. Outside of a hit to my professional pride, there's no shame in what just happened to me. Losing is good, from time to time. It keeps you honest. And losing to Freya is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. She's the best wrestler in the Club.

Woman: Better than the World Champion, Darkness?

Matt: Absolutely. And certainly better than Dante. I mean, how long has she been Bleeder Champ? A decade? She has to fend of opponents who are aiming for blood. Literally. And she pulls it off without resorting to weapons and illegal tactics. Unlike Dante. Losing clean to Freya is no problem. I'd prefer to win, of course.

Woman: Even losing to a small package?

Matt: What's wrong with a small package? The goal in wrestling isn't to knock your opponent unconscious, then get the academic three count. All you need to do is get the shoulders down. There's a reason people were winning with a small package fifty years ago and still are today. Nothing cheap about it. It's just good wrestling.

Woman: Any parting words?

Matt: Darkness, Freya. Good match. I look forward to trying it one on one. That's a different game. That's my game.

Woman: Thanks, Matt.

Matt: Absolutely.

*Matt walks away, looking for the trainer. He just got his shoulders pinned for the first time in forever. And he was ok with that. Wrestling won the main event. That's a good thing. Something catches his eye as he walking, pulling the Singapore cane up into view.*

Matt: Who's blood is this?

Wikipedia: the free encyclopedia

TCW Bleeder Championship

The TCW Bleeder Championship is a championship belt in the professional wrestling company Twisted Championship Wrestling (TCW) . The belt was originally called the 411fed Xtreme Television title, but was renamed after a series of bloody and violent matches, and also in tribute the wrestler of the same name. Originally, the title was contested under the stipulation that the winner must be bleeding before making a pinfall. Since 2007 however, the belt is not normally contested in a specific match, but can change hands anytime during a TCW broadcast, the only stipulation being the current title holder needs to be bleeding when pinned. This has lead to some violent title changes, not limited to a large brawl on the April 2007 episode of Friction where several members of the roster and even an official momentarily held the title before Kermit Gambono eventually walked away victorious.

The title, although associated with violent gimmick matches like other "hardcore" belts, is considered very prestigious, with many popular wrestlers having held it, such as Highone, Jason Dante, Titanium Insomniac and Coren.

The current holder is Freya Green. This is her second reign as champion and she has currently held it for over a year, the longest reign in the title's history so far.

**

"Blood? Did you say blood?" The cameraman was suddenly at Matt's shoulder looking at the end of the cane. "Hey, Shirl."

The woman came hurrying over. "Oh my goodness." She gasped. "Are you filming this?" She asked the cameraman, slapping his arm with the back of her hand. "Whose is it?" she asked Matt.

"I... I don't know. DeSean just gave it to me."

"It must be Freya's! DeSean hit her around the head after your match. That means she's bleeding. If you could find her you could become the Bleeder Champion!"

The woman's excitement was too much for the still dazed Matt. "But we aren't on TV. Matches need to happen on TV."

"A TCW broadcast, and you're lucky that we're here. This will make the best webcast ever if we had a title change. Don't you want to be the TC Champ and the Bleeder Champ?"

"It's not exactly wrestling though. It's part of what I want out of TCW to save it. It's weird, it's a blood thing."

"It's one of the major mainstays of the TCW and 411Fed history. The greats have fought for it, Baroness, Shaun Bisley, Highone. Don't you think they're wrestlers? Highone held the belt you hold now too."

"It's just..."

"You can make the Bleeder title what you want if you held it. Merge it and get rid of it completely if that's what you wanted."

"But..." She was starting to sound convincing. "But what about Freya? I told you I don't have a problem with her."

The woman shrugged. "Casualty of war?" she ignored Matt as he tried to interrupt her to repeat it wasn't a war. "She's the only thing holding the New Hellfire Club together, you get rid of her and the others will follow. What's the phrase, 'for the greater good'? The end justifies the means? Plus you'll have it easy, one more swift swish from that thing in your hand and she'll go out like a light."

"I don't know."

"Of course you do." She lit a cigarette. "Come on, Matt, she'll be in the locker room down here."

**

"Will you stop pestering me?" Freya tried to wave off Tilpin.

"I just want to put a plaster on it."

"It doesn't need one. It's stopped bleeding and is healing already."

"And how do you think it'll look if you go outside without a scratch on you?"

"No one will even notice. Darkness, will you tell her to leave me alone."

"I think she has a point." Darkness said from his position against the lockers. Freya looked smug. "No, I mean she has a point," he gestured towards Tilpin. "You don't want people seeing you heal that quick."

"Hey, you're meant to be on my side."

"I'm just looking out for you and The Children."

"Oh, is that what this is about? And in the ring, you’re busy doing your duty and keeping us under wraps? If it wasn't for you lot we wouldn't have to hide what we are at all!"

"Let's not have this fight again. I'm on your side – you know that, don't you?"

"I'm sorry. I know." Freya sat quietly as Tilpin stuck on the plaster. "You were probably right, you never know, if they saw me heal MacDonald might have bought back burning witches at the stake just for me."

Before Darkness could reply there was a knock on the locker room door.

"Hello Matt," Darkness said curtly as it swung open, seemingly unbidden.

"Um... Can I have a word with Freya?"

Darkness looked over his shoulder at Freya. She nodded her head.

"Fine." He said before leaving. Tilpin followed him.

"What's the matter, Matt?" Freya asked, walking over to the door. She stopped when she saw the cameraman and -woman behind him. "What's going on?"

"Um."

Matt: Um.

*Freya's body language immediately shifted defensively, her weight leaning on her back leg and her shoulders pulled back slightly. A wave of light washes over Matt's mind, his head obviously not at its best right now. He can see Freya's demeanor and knows that this isn't the conversation he had in mind. In fact, he really wasn't sure why he was here at all. The woman he met in the hallway pokes the small of his back with her microphone, and he can hear the heavy breathing of the overweight cameraman. He readjusts his grip on DeSean's Singapore cane and takes a few deep breaths. He never had any intention of being here, in this doorway, but here he was. He looks Freya in the eyes, and sees the mistrust grow. He tightens his grip on the cane, as he tries to grab this situation out of the hands of the people behind him. He sees the plaster on Freya's head and sees his out.*

Matt: Freya, I'm here to apologize on DeSean's behalf.

Freya: Does he know that?

Matt: No, and I'm certain he's not sorry. But I am.

Freya: So you wanted to get this all on tape why?

*Freya lifts her chin, gesturing at the practically salivating young journalist.*

Matt: No, these guys are just piranhas. They followed the blood.

*Matt lifts up the Singapore cane and lets Freya see the blood on the end.*

Matt: But it seems to me that you're all patched up. No blood. No blood, no Bleeder title match. Those are the rules, right?

*Matt looks over his shoulder at the woman. She bit her lip while leaning in towards Matt.*

Woman: It must be recently patched. One good shot and she'll open right up again.

*At this, Matt turns around. Freya crosses her arms in front of her and raises an eyebrow at the woman.*

Matt: Really? Well, I'll tell you what. You crack her open, and I'll give you your match. Any takers? Either of you?

*Matt steps aside and gives a clear path for either of them to Freya. Freya keeps her arms crossed, but adds a smirk that just begs for either of them to try. The woman shoulders the cameraman, urging him to go for it, but he's having none of it. Defeated, the woman lowers her head and mumbles at Matt.*

Woman: Thanks for your time.

*The pair of them hurries down the hall, bickering lowly with one another. Matt laughs, and Freya keeps herself from doing the same. He turns back toward her, noticing the cane still in his hand. He props it up against the wall and raises his hands in the air.*

Matt: I come in peace. Really.

*Freya turns to walk further into the locker room, her guard apparently lowered, if not for her keeping Matt in view via a reflection. Matt, ignorant of it, takes it as trust.*

Matt: Well, you're gonna hear about it soon anyway, assuming those two put up what I already told them, but congratulations on your win. You did it fair and clean, and I've no problem with it. That being said, you're not going to do it twice in a row.

Freya: Oh, so I just had a fluke rollup?

Matt: Did you?

*Freya looks at him, honestly unsure of the answer.*

Matt: Either way, my point is that either of us are too talented to lose clean twice in a row.

Freya: Just the natural order of things?

Matt: No, I figure it's because losing makes us push twice as hard the next time around. Personally? I've seen every one of your matches five times. After tonight's results? I have another five viewings to do and about two notebooks worth of notes to take. Maybe you're all natural talent and a drive to win. Me? I'm an average student with the best of studying habits. I'm like Batman. Give me prep time, and I'm going to win.

*Freya looks in the mirror, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.*

Freya: So it's a foregone conclusion? No matter what I do, your “prep work” will just be that insurmountable.

Matt: I've never been pinned twice in a row. Ever. I don't mind losing fairly, but I have a huge issue with losing streaks, fair or not. But I don't want this to come off as personal. This is business. This is my job, just like it's yours.

Freya: So what now, then? Off to our respective dark rooms to look at DVD's of each other? Leaving notes in the margins of hotel notepads?

Matt: Your hotel has notepads? Or DVD players? Mine just has a window that doesn't open and a bed that smells vaguely of eggrolls.

Freya: Sounds like Deng takes care of his stars...

Matt: Hey, I do get a per diem for food.

Freya: Highroller.

Matt: Not quite, but it's enough to take a lady out to dinner. Once a week, at least.

Freya: So who's the lucky lady?
Matt: Depends if my first choice turns me down. What's your plans for the night?

Freya: What about prep work?

Matt: Even Batman has to eat from time to time. So, you in or out?

*Freya turns around, leaning back against the sink with her hands propping her up. Matt stands up straight, pulling himself off the wall he was leaning on. Putting his arms out and leaning his head, he puts on his Jersey Boy smile.*

Matt: You could do worse. A little.

"Did you buy a new dress for this?" Lir asked from where he was lounging on Freya's bed.

"No."

"It smells new."

"Ok, fine. I did." She struggled to get the zip done up. "Will you give me a hand here?"

"So why are you buying a new dress to go to dinner with a guy you don't like?" Lir said, getting off the bed.

"I don't not like Matt."

"Ok, so why are you buying a dress to go to dinner with a guy you 'don't not like'?" He did the zip up. "Or do I not want to know the answer to this?"

"I needed a dress, my wardrobe isn't exactly overflowing with them. What's with the third degree anyway? What do you care?"

"I don't trust him. Not after what DeSean did to you."

"Matt isn't DeSean." She checked herself in the mirror and turned around. "What do you think?"

"Are you going to sleep with him?"

"Are you actually asking if I'm going to have sex with the guy who wants to run the Club out of TCW?"

"You're going to dinner with him..."

Freya grabbed her handbag and hit him with it. "Now, how do I look?"

"Ok, you look fine."

Freya raised her handbag again.

"You look nice. Honest." Lir said, raising his hands to pre-empt another attack.

Freya huffed and walked out of the room.

"Just don't fall off your heels!" he called after her before the door shut.

**

"Hi, I'm looking for Matt Strikmore? He told me to meet him here." Freya stood in the reception area of the restaurant Matt had given her directions to. She hoped the guy she was speaking to understood English.

"Freya!"

Freya turned around and saw Matt walking over to her from the bar, drinks in hand. He was wearing a clean shirt, not tucked in, and slacks. She suddenly felt very overdressed.

"Never mind, I've found him," she walked over to Matt.

"Hey, I got you a drink," he said, passing her a glass. "Nice dress. Our table's over here."

Freya followed Matt to a small table in one corner. "Nice restaurant."

"I haven't been here before, so I hope it's okay." Matt put his drink on the table and waited for Freya to sit.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I was going to help you get your chair in."

"I can move my own chair thanks."

"But not remove clothing tags?" Matt grabbed the tag hanging from the back of Freya's dress and gave it a quick tug. He handed the piece of card to her before taking his own seat.

"Bloody Lir," Freya grumbled.

"What?"

"Lir. My cousin. I saw him before I came and he didn't mention this." She looked around for somewhere to put the tag and decided to stuff it in her bag.

"So you bought a dress to come have dinner with me?" Matt smirked his New Jersey smirk.

"Well, I could have worn my other one, but it wasn't exactly decent after I got put through a glass table."

"Who put you through a glass table?"

"Oh... his name was... was... fuck, I'm useless with names. Atomic Welfare was his ring name."

"And he put you through a table because...?"

Freya shrugged. "Don't remember."

"Someone put you through a glass table and you don't remember why?"

"Well, I did get hit over the head with a cane earlier, maybe that did some damage."

"I'm really sorry about that, even if DeSean isn't." Matt looked genuinely remorseful.

"It’s not a problem," Freya waved the issue aside and took a sip of her drink. "It's all PMS."

"PMS? You're saying DeSean has PMS?"

"No. It’s all Pre Matt Strikmore. Nothing to do with you, I mean. This wasn't the first time he's done it, and I doubt it'll be the last. This stuff happens."

"Like getting thrown through tables."

"Exactly."

The pair tried to fill the gap in conversation by drinking.

"So have you heard from Cap' recently?" Matt asked.

"I got a parcel with some bits for The Children – DVDs and video games - and a short letter. Just letting me know he's okay, staying with his son and family. What about you?"

"He sent me some books."

"You mean comics."

"Don't give me that look."

"You don’t know my looks. This could mean anything."

"I know that look. I get it a lot. You think comics are stupid."

Freya held up her hands. "I don't think anything. If you want to read about super heroes, that’s up to you."

"So what do you read?"

"Hah!" Freya laughed, before quickly putting a hand over her mouth as it came out louder than intended. "Read? I don't have the time. I've got matches, and training, Gwen's still trying to teach me Mandarin even though I've failed to pick up any other language she's tried, and I try and keep The Children amused or I'll find all my furniture in the bathroom again."

"Ok, the children, they're not actually your children, right?"

"No. They're...um... Darkness's entrouage."

"Right. So..."

"Where is the waiter?" Freya said, trying to change the subject quickly. From the kitchen there was a sudden loud crashing noise, and the door swung open, a man with long dark hair and a long black coat stood silhouetted in the door way.

"Is that..." Matt whispered.

"No," Freya said, guessing what he was thinking, "just one of his fans. Hey, did DeSean tell you much about what happened with him and Darkness before their match?"

"No..."

"That's probably for the best."

Matt: So this guy is a Darkness fan?

Freya: Very much so.

Matt: Darkness needs to market an official trench coat. Dude would make a killing.

*Obviously, the thought process of Matt and Freya are very different at this point. Matt is getting a kick at watching someone play dress up, while Freya is eying the exits, seeing if any are blocked off. After scanning the room, the Darkling spots Matt and Freya, and makes his way to their table.*

Freya: We should probably go.

Matt: Kid probably just wants an autograph or something. Relax!

*The man stands at their table, his long hair draping over his eyes. Freya knows she should either strike first, or take off right now. These encounters have never gone well.*

Matt: Nice face paint, guy. What'd you use, some latex or something to make the scar tissue under the eyes?

Darkling: These scars are a tribute to a great man. A man you need to show respect to. I can teach you that respect.

Matt: See, Freya? This is what you call committed. Alright, dude. Who should I make it out to? You got a pen?

*Matt pats his pockets, looking for something to write with. The Darkling turns his hand, the light hitting the exposed blade he's carrying. Freya can't react in time. The Darkling runs a long, deep gash down the right arm of Matt, then quickly points the knife towards Freya. Matt cries out, grabbing his arm and turns out of his chair, away from Freya and the lunatic. With Matt out of his vision, the Darkling pays attention to Freya.*

Darkling: You, one of his inner circle, should be ashamed by the mere act of sharing a table with someone so openly opposed to Darkness.

Freya: Don't think for a minute you have the advantage right now.

*Freya knew she could end this right now, but the cost would be high. Ripping out someone's throat in a crowded restraunt isn't as clandestine as one might think. And where was Matt? She eyes the blade, seeing how far up the crimson glaze went. It was no small amount. She needed to end this. For all his faults, Matt wasn't a horrible person. He didn't deserve to bleed out. Just as she was going to act, Matt came back into view. With her enhanced senses, she saw it all as being in slow motion. Lunging forward, with fury in his eyes, Matt crashed a liquor bottle across the back of the Darkling's head. In a smooth motion, he grabbed his chair with his free hand while bringing his foot down on the middle of the man's weight bearing shin. With the Darkling dropped to one knee, Matt swung the chair in an upward motion, connecting squarely with the man's chin. The Darkling slumped back against a booth, but Matt was on him before he even came to a stop. Holding onto the booth for balance, Matt began laying in a series of kicks to the body of the Darkling, grunting words between each kick.*

Matt: DON'T. EVER. POINT. A. WEAPON. AT. A. WOMAN.

*A commotion from the kitchen draws his attention from the bloodied man at his feet. Pulling his arms away from the booth, a slick puddle of his blood had already formed, with a visible stream falling from his fingers to the floor. Three more men, just as the first, stood in the doorway, seemingly untouched by the scene before them. Matt, amped up from the adrenaline, steps in front of Freya and taunts them.*

Matt: See your boy right there?! That's what happens when you bring a knife to the gun show! Look at you! Looking like rejects from The Warriors casting call! But you want a piece? I have no problem kicking you from here to Coney Island!

*Matt smacks a glass off the nearby table, shattering it against the wall beside the three Darklings. Freya grabs onto Matt's uninjured arm, and roughly pulls him toward the door.*

Freya: We need to leave.

Matt: They pulled a knife on you!

Freya: Now!

*No longer asking, Freya forcibly pulls Matt to the exit. With the three men closely behind them, Matt grabs an unbrella from the lobby. After he and Freya exit to the street, Matt slams the door shut and wedges it closed with the umbrella. The three men bang on the inside of the door. Matt smirks at them and flips them a very bloody finger. Freya latches arms with Matt, pulling him down the sidewalk at a very brisk pace. As his heart rate begins to subside, he starts to take note of his condition.*

Matt: I'm cut pretty bad, here. Are you ok?

Freya: Yes you are. And yes. Can you feel your hand?

Matt: It tingles, but yeah. So no nerve damage, I hope. Can we sit down a minute. I'm feeling pretty light headed.

Freya: We really shouldn't stop. We need to create distance between them and us.

Matt: Well, I am leaving a trail for them to follow. We keep going, it's going to stop, but not in the way I want. I only have so much of this stuff.

*Matt runs his fingers across his blood covered forearm, and holds up to Freya. Freya purses her lips. She knows he's right. Untreated, he may have two minutes left before he starts to pass out. Pushing Matt into a nearby alley, Freya grabs his good sleeve and rips it off. A pale faced Matt jokes at her.*

Matt: C'mon now, I'm not that cheap a date.

Freya: You're incredible.

Matt: Wow. Never heard that from a non-drunk woman before.

*Freya smirks, despite the situation. She takes the sleeve of the shirt, and ties it tight around the upper part of the wound.*

Freya: There, that should give us a little more time to get you to the TCW medic staff.

Matt: No! I can't go there. Baxter hates me, he'd probably just stitch something vulgar into my arm and say it needs to be amputated. Kian is awesome, but he wouldn't clear me to fight for at least three months.

Freya: Fine, a hospital. There has got to be one around here.

*Matt rubs his eyes with his good hand, still smearing a bit of blood on his face. He's fading fast.*

Matt: No hospital. Stern would find out, then I'm done for.

Freya: Then what the hell do you want me to do?! Let you bleed out and die in a random alley in China!

Matt: I need blood, don't I?

Freya: Yeah, but sorry, I'm fresh out.

Matt: Don't... don't they give you cookies and juice when you give blood? To help make new blood? Maybe I just need to score some cookies and juice.

*Matt's legs give out on him, sending him crashing harshly onto the ground. Propping himself upright with his good arm, he puts his head back against the wall. He'd lost more blood than Freya had guessed.*

Matt: Lots of cookies.

Freya: Come on. We're going to a hospital.

*Freya drapes his arm over his shoulders, and helps him stand again. As they get back onto the sidewalk, Matt starts talking again.*

Matt: Wait. Wait. Who fixed you up?

Freya: What?

Matt: Who fixed your forehead. It looks perfect. It's the first thing I noticed when you walked in tonight. Well, outside of how much better you looked than I did. Can you take me to whoever you used?

Freya: I...

Matt: When did it get so cold outside?

*Freya sighs with a fluster.*

Freya: Ok. Come on.

*The two arrive at Freya's current apartment door. Matt is fading in and out, but seems to be good at passing out while staying standing. He rouses awake when he hears Freya knock on the door.*

Matt: I want to you know. I didn't look.

Freya: What? Didn't look at what?

Matt: The price tag on your dress. I didn't look.

Freya: Why are you telling me this?

Matt: I don't know. I really don't know. I can't see very well right now. Are we inside?

*The door opens as one of the Children answer it. From the background, we can hear Lir.*

Lir: Is that Freya? Did she sleep with the guy that she doesn't not like?

*Lir comes around the corner, and sees a very bloody Matt hanging off of Freya and slouched against the door frame. Still managing a punch drunk grin, Matt answers.*

Matt: I dunno. Did she? Hi gang.

*And with that, Matt passes out, leaving Freya looking at Lir.*

"Give me a hand here, will you?" Freya asked, sagging under Matt's weight.

Lir put an arm around Matt and easily picked him up. "What did you do to him?"

"Not me, Darklings. Is Tilpin here?"

"Yeah, she's..."

"Someone say my name?" Tilpin asked, appearing from another room. She stopped when she saw the unconscious Matt. "You need to lay him down, go put him on Freya's bed," she ordered as she hurried to the door.

"Where are you going? You need to fix him!" Freya panicked.

"I need stuff: things to clean with, sew with."

"I'll go get them."

"But you don't know where it all is. Just get him comfy. And warm. Put blankets on him or something."

"What's going on?" Peredur asked. Several more of The Children were standing behind him.

"Nothing, now move!" Freya said, shooing a path clear for Lir and Matt.

"Is that...?" Cai asked.

"Yes, but now really isn't the time." Freya shut the door behind Lir as they entered her bedroom. She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and speed dialled Darkness. The phone rang and eventually redirected to voicemail. "Where the hell is he?! What is the point of having a mobile if you don't ever pick up?"

"What are you doing with him?" Lir asked, interrupting Freya's rant.

"Oh. Blankets. Pull that duvet over him while I find some."

"Have you still not got him sorted?" Tilpin was back.

"What did you do, fly?"

"Move out the way, I need some space."

**

"I need you to hold these two flaps together."

The voice was muffled, like it was coming from far away. There was a sudden sharp pain in his arm. He tried to move away from the pain and there was a sudden chorus of voices.

"He moved!"

"Hold him still!"

"Matt? Matt?"

The last voice he recognised. He opened his eyelids slightly and Freya's face was floating above him.

"What's going on?" His voice was faint.

"We're getting you fixed up. We need you to stay still though, otherwise you're gonna have a nasty scar."

"Will you stop chatting and hold his arm?" The voice came from out of Matt's view.

"You're really bossy when you're fixing people, you know that?" Freya moved to do what the other voice had told her to do. Hands held his arm, firm but not painful. Matt wasn't sure if it was his arm trembling or Freya's hands, but as he slipped under again he didn't care.

**

Pain woke him. It felt like pins and needles were being poked into his arm. He tried to move it but it felt stiff.

"Gnph," he grunted with the effort.

"Oh, you're awake."

Matt managed to lift his head to see Freya sat in one corner of what he realised was his bedroom. She was sitting on a chair with a book in her hand.

"Yeah, not sure it's a good thing though." He tried to pull himself into a sitting position but because of the pain in his arm had to do it awkwardly with his left hand.

"You want some help?" Freya had gotten up.

"Nah, I'm alright." He shifted and winced as it pulled at the stitches in his arm. "How'd it go?"

"Well, your arm is still attached. How do you feel?"

"Still a bit dizzy, but there's only one of you, which is..."

"Normal. At least you're feeling better. Tilpin's left a whole set of teas, ointments, and a list of what you've got to do to that arm of yours." She picked up her bag from where she'd been sitting and opened the door.

"You're going?"

"Yeah. I just had to make sure you woke up."

"Was there a chance I wouldn't?"

Freya shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure. The stuff you need is in the kitchen." She paused in the doorway. "I guess I'll see you in the ring."

"Yeah." There was an awkward pause. "Thank your friend for me."

"I will." Freya gave him a smile and a nod and finally left the room."

Matt heard the front door open and close. Slowly he got himself out of bed, shooting pains from the stitches running up his arm every time he moved. His legs still felt wobbly but he managed to make it to the kitchen before feeling tired. On the side there were several strange pots with hand-written labels. He gingerly opened one and gave it a sniff.

"Ew," he said, quickly closing the lid again. Amongst the pots was a letter in the same handwriting as on the jars. It was a long list of do's, don't's and how to clean his arm. Also that there would be a scar, but it would hopefully fade. There were other bits on the side, an English language newspaper he had delivered. He didn't pay much attention to it, until he noticed the date. He'd been out of it for two days. The sudden thought that he hadn't eaten for two days, or even longer because they didn't have dinner before that weirdo attacked, made his stomach grumble. He opened cupboards at random, not expecting much, but opening one, found one bursting with juice and cookies. There was a note attached.

These would probably all be banned if Tilpin knew: she wouldn't believe me that cookies and juice made blood.

Freya

p.s I know the green stuff stinks, but it really works.