"What the hell!" Drake shouted from across the table suddenly. They had been etching plans of the city surrounding them on a piece of paper. The plan was to fly a plane in around in circles, touching multiple areas of one mile. When Drake heard something they'd know she was in a mile's radius, but now Drake had leapt up from his chair and was holding his arm as Erik watched in amazement. Letters were forming on the inside of his left arm and blood was oozing out to drip onto his floor.

"What is it?" Erik asked, praying that Jade was telling them where she was.

Drake began to laugh through the scar of pain on his face, "She's writing who she's with on her arm, but it look's more like a jagged scratch rather than letters."

"Can you tell what it says?" Erik asked, leaning forward curiously.

"Mmm," Drake muttered as he wiped some of the pooling blood with his hand, "That's definitely a P, but the rest looks like a scribble."

"Why doesn't she write it more clearly?" Erik asked, "Here let me see."

While holding out his arm for Erik to examine, Drake grumbled to himself, "The real question is how is she standing the blood?"

Erik frowned slightly and took Drake's wrist in his hand to take a closer look, "I think it says Peter or something. I guess she couldn't write it any clearer because of her phobia."

"Either that or she's smart," Drake replied, jerking his arm back to his side, "it says Petra. We met her on the train here."

"Smart," Erik trailed off, "how so?"

Drake let a smile flash across his face as he laughed, "Never mind. You know this Petra girl? Specifically where she lives?"

"So we're playing that game are we," Erik asked, grabbing a towel from a cabinet in the kitchen and throwing it at Drake. "Remember she goes to the Academy with us," he grumbled.

He caught it with one hand and said through a smile, ignoring the question, "Really? Guess she didn't recognize me either. I'd hoped I'd never have to see the bitch again."

Erik pursed his lips, and then filling up a small metal bucket with hot water and soap and bringing it over to the puddles of blood, sat it down on the wooden floor with a clank. "I hope this comes up. I'm just renting this place."

"Hmm," Drake murmured, dipping the stained, ragged towel into the bucket of steaming water and ringing it out began to mop up his blood.

"Didn't know you knew how to clean," Erik sneered, "a little beneath you isn't it?"

"Hmm," Drake hummed again, calmly. He had been trying exceptionally hard to control his temper all that day and Erik was curious how far he could push him. It was the least he deserved for what he had done.

"I mean doesn't your father usually clean up the blood you've spilled," he said, watching the corners of Drake's mouth twitch.

"So where exactly does Petra live?" Drake said, scrubbing the floor harder. He dodged the question without even glancing up.

"I mean. When Jade told me that you fret over how your father doesn't give a damn about you, I'll admit I was shocked. I didn't know you even had a heart," he sighed casually.

"What do you want Erik?" Drake asked still calm, now looking up with a burning rage in his eyes.

"Why are you holding back your anger? Certainly not for my sake," he questioned him through narrowed eyes.

Rolling his eyes as he sighed, Drake mumbled, "I don't owe you anything and especially not an answer to that question."

"Don't owe me anything!" Erik spat, tipping the bucket of boiling hot water over as he stood. "You owe me everything! I didn't have to let you hide here from Damien! I could have just as easily said no!"

Drake's mouth formed a straight line as he slowly stood to move out of the way of the burning water. He lifted a hand to his head and rubbed his left temple. "What do you want?" He repeated himself. "For me to lie and pretend to admit that I killed your brother. I'm not going to do that just to satisfy you."

In a fit of frustration Erik shouted out at nothing and cursing, kicked the metal bucket half way across the room. It clattered loudly on the floor. Shaking his head furiously, he headed for the door. He couldn't stand to be another moment with Drake. It had been less than a four years since his brother had died and the pain still gnawed at his raw heart.

"Erik," Drake called after him, "I do have a theory though."