✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"𝐎𝐖, 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒." Rebecca whispered as she sat in Mr. Miyagi's apartment. After tending to the wounds on Daniel's face who was lying asleep on a cot, Mr. Miyagi was tending to the brunette's bruised and scuffed face.

"Sting bad, heals good." Mr. Miyagi said as he poured Rebecca a cup of tea

With tears threatening to spill, Rebecca questioned, "Will he be alright, Mr. Miyagi?"

"He will be, Rebecca-san. Drink tea. Feel better, and no cry." Mr. Miyagi said kindly and gave her a kind fatherly smile.

Mr. Miyagi gave her a cup of tea and it was honestly the best cup of tea she ever had. She took a sip of her tea and Daniel stirred awake. "Becca?" Daniel questioned

"Hey." Rebecca softly smiled

"Leave on." Mr. Miyagi instructed as Daniel tried to take off the wet towel

"It stinks man, what is it?" Daniel asked

"Smells bad. Heals good." Mr. Miyagi said 

"Hey where'd Spider-Man go?" Daniel asked both Mr. Miyagi and Rebecca

"Who?" Mr. Miyagi asked

"The guy who bailed me out, where'd he go?" Daniel asked. Mr. Miyagi just sat there with a proud smile on his face. "Wait you?" Daniel asked surprised. Mr. Miyagi gave him a nod and Rebecca just smiled. "No way." Daniel said

"Why no way?" Mr. Miyagi asked

"Because, because..." Daniel started trying to find the right words to say

"Because, because old man?" Mr. Miyagi asked in a teasing manner. "Have a tea, feel better" Mr. Miyagi said, offering Daniel some tea. Daniel sat up and slowly drank his tea, holding the cloth to his head.

"How come you didn't tell me?" Daniel asked

"Tell what?" Mr. Miyagi asked

"That you do karate." Daniel said

"You never asked." Mr. Miyagi said

"Where'd you learn it from?" Daniel asked

"Father." Mr. Miyagi said

"I thought he was a fisherman." Daniel said

"In Okinawa, all Miyagi know two thing: fish and karate. Karate come from China, 16th century. Called 'te'. 'Hand'. Much later, Miyagi ancestor call 'karate'. 'Empty hand" Mr. Miyagi explained.

"I always thought it came from Buddhist temples and stuff like that." Daniel said

Mr. Miyagi shook his head. "You watch too much TV."

"That's what my mother tells me." Daniel said

"Have you ever taught anyone, Mr. Miyagi?" Rebecca asked

"No." Mr. Miyagi said.

"Would ya?" Daniel asked hopefully

"Depend." Mr. Miyagi said

"On what?" Daniel asked

"Reason." Mr. Miyagi said 

"How's revenge?" Daniel asked

"Daniel-san, you look revenge that way, start by digging two grave." Mr. Miyagi said

"Well at least I have company right?" Daniel asked jokingly

"Fighting always last answer to problem." Mr. Miyagi replied.

"Uh, no offense, Mr. Miyaji but I don't think you understand my problem." Daniel said

"Miyagi understand problem perfect. You friend all karate student, eh?" Mr. Miyagi asked referring to the Cobra Kais

"Friend? Oh yeah those guys." Daniel said 

"Problem. Attitude." Mr. Miyagi said

"No, problem is I'm getting my ass kicked every other day. That's the problem." Daniel said

"Because boys have bad attitude. Karate for defense only." Mr. Miyagi said.

"That's not what these guys are taught." Daniel said.

"I can see. No such thing bad student. Only bad teacher. Teacher say student do." Mr. Miyagi said.

"Oh great that solves everything for me. I'll just go down to the school and straighten it out with the teacher. No problem." Daniel sarcastically said

"Now use head for something other than target." Mr. Miyagi said

"Wait, Mr. Miyagi, I think he was joking." Rebecca said

"Yeah, I was only kidding about that." Daniel said

"Why kidding?" Mr. Miyagi asked

"Because I'll get killed if I show up there." Daniel said

"Get killed anyway." Mr. Miyagi said

"Would you go with me?" Daniel asked

"No, can't." Mr. Miyagi said

"Why you said it was a good idea, right?" Daniel asked

"For you, good idea. For me, good idea no get involved." Mr. Miyagi said.

"But you're already involved I mean..." Daniel started

"Very sorry." Mr. Miyagi said

"What?" Daniel asked. He sighed angrily and dropped the wet towel. "Well, thanks for nothing then." Daniel said as he got off the cot.

"Whatever, don't do me anymore favors, ok, pal?" Daniel said clearly annoyed

"Daniel-san?" Mr. Miyagi said getting his attention

"What?" Daniel acknowledged angrily.

"Ok, I go." Mr. Miyagi agreed.

"Excellent. Excellent. Mr. Miyaji, this is great..." Daniel started

"Miyagi." Mr. Miyagi corrected him.

"Miyagi. Miyagi." Daniel said. "Hey what kind of belt do you have?"

"Canvas. You like? J.C. Penney. $3.98." Mr. Miyagi said proudly holding his belt making Rebecca giggle.

"What karate belt are you Mr. Miyagi?" Rebecca asked, clarifying what Daniel meant.

"Rebecca-san, in Okinawa belt mean no need rope to hold up pants. Daniel-san, Rebecca-san, Karate here. (pointed to their heads) Karate here (pointed to their hearts) Karate never here (gestured to their ribs) Understand?" Mr. Miyagi asked them

"I think so." Daniel said, and Rebecca just nodded and smiled sweetly

"Goodnight Daniel-san. Goodnight Rebecca-san." Mr. Miyagi said to them.

"Goodnight Mr Miyagi." They both said at the same time

"Tomorrow morning. 10:00. Coming too, Rebecca-san?" Mr. Miyagi asked

"Of course. Thank you." Rebecca said

Daniel and Rebecca both left his apartment. After ensuring that Daniel had ascended the stairs, Rebecca headed back to the gym, where she found Ali waiting outside.

"Rebecca, are you okay? I've been looking everywhere for you." Ali said, her face filled with concern.

Rebecca wiped the tears from her emerald greens. "I'm alright. Will you take me home?"

Ali smiled softly and nodded, then pulled her best friend into a tight embrace. "What happened?"

"It happened again. They hurt Daniel." Rebecca said. "I was only trying to help, and I ended up getting hurt as well."

"I'm so sorry, Becca," Ali said. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Upon arriving at her Reseda residence, Rebecca bid her best friend goodbye, her voice quiet and distant. The laughter and music from the dance still echoed faintly in her mind, clashing against the heavy ache in her chest. As she stepped through the front door, she slipped off her shoes, the silence of the house wrapping around her like a blanket.

Dean was seated on the couch, a beer in hand, the glow from the television flickering across his tired face.

"Hey, honey," Dean said, setting his beer down on the coffee table. His voice was casual, but his eyes lingered on her face a moment longer than usual. "How was the dance?"

"It was fine. I'm headed to bed." Rebecca said. "I'll see you in the morning."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

It was now a quarter past eleven. Rebecca, freshly showered and with blow-dried hair, sat at her vanity. The sound of her brush gliding through her hair was the only noise in the room. It was oddly soothing, though it couldn't drown out the replaying images in her head. She caught her reflection—eyes red-rimmed and tired. She placed the brush gently back in the drawer, then moved to her bed.

As she pulled back the comforter and sheets, ready to surrender to sleep—or at least, the quiet—there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in." Rebecca called. The door opened and it was Dean, a worried expression on his face.

"You've been quiet since you came home from the dance. What happened?" Dean asked

Rebecca's throat tightened, and her vision blurred. She bit her lip, trying to stop the tears, but it was useless. Her heart clenched as the tears finally spilled over. Dean crossed the room in seconds, pulling her into his arms with the kind of comfort only a father could give.

They sat on the edge of her bed, the warmth of his fatherly embrace grounding her as she told him everything—leaving no detail untold. "Then they just kept on beating Daniel. They refused to stop. Someone much weaker than them." Rebecca struggled to control her sobs.

"I'm so sorry, honey," Dean said, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes drifted to the photo of Lisa on the nightstand—their guiding light even in her death.

"What hurts the most is that I really like Bobby, and the others were supposed to be my friends. They had promised not to hurt Daniel again." Rebecca wept.

"I know sweetheart. I know." Dean said. He held her close, rocking her gently as if to protect her from the pain of the world, and sang Smoke on the Water's Deep Purple.

Dean did everything he could to fill the void Lisa left behind, and he did it with all the love he had. Lisa might have chosen a Marianne Faithfull tune instead, but the intent would have been the same—comfort in the storm.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Rebecca said as she laid down.

"Goodnight honey," Dean said, kissing her forehead before turning off her lamp. As he walked out of her bedroom, he closed the door behind him.

Dean walked quietly down the hall after leaving Rebecca's room, the weight of her heartbreak pressing heavily on his chest. The house had returned to its usual stillness, but nothing about tonight felt settled. He glanced at the photo of Lisa in the hallway—her smile captured in a moment of joy, her eyes warm and full of life. He touched the frame lightly, as if she might somehow feel it.

"I wish you were here," he whispered. "She needs you. We both do."

He eventually made it to bed, but sleep didn't come easy. It rarely did. When it finally took him, it pulled him fast and deep.

Dean woke up, standing in the middle of their old back yard in Kansas, the summer air warm and golden. And then he heard it—a soft, familiar humming, drifting through the air like a thread pulled from the past. The melody was delicate, tender, and unmistakable: April Love. A voice hummed gently on the wind, barely above a whisper.

"April love is for the very young..."

Dean froze.

He turned slowly toward the voice.

She was there. Lisa.

Sitting on the swing with that same timeless grace she'd always carried. Her blonde hair danced in the breeze, and her hazel eyes lit up the moment she saw him. She looked exactly as she had before the illness—healthy, radiant. Alive.

"Hey, stranger," she said, her voice like sunlight.

Dean felt a lump in his throat as he stepped closer. "Lisa."

He sat beside her. For a long moment, they just rocked, the chains creaking softly in rhythm. He wanted to memorize everything about her again—her scent, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she waited for him to speak.

"She's hurting." Dean finally said.

Lisa nodded gently, her expression full of quiet concern.

"She went to a school dance. It should've been just some teenage thing, you know? Dress up, smile, dance with her boyfriend," he said, rubbing his hands together. "But instead, she saw a group of kids—boys she trusted—beat the hell out of someone. A kid who couldn't fight back."

Lisa closed her eyes briefly, pain flashing across her face.

"She came home broken," Dean whispered. "She cried in my arms, and all I could do was hold her. I didn't know what to say."

"You said exactly what she needed," Lisa said, placing a hand over his. "You were there. That's more than enough."

"I keep wondering if I'm doing this right," Dean admitted, his voice thick. "Every day I just try to be enough for her, but... she's growing up. And this world, it's cruel sometimes. She's seeing that now."

Lisa turned to face him, her hand still holding his. "Dean, you're doing it right. She knows she's loved. She knows she's safe with you. That matters more than anything."

Dean looked at her, tears welling "I just... I miss you. I wish you could see her. You'd be so proud. She's strong, Lisa— just like you."

Lisa's smile deepened. "I am proud. But she's facing something now that's going to shape who she becomes. Help her find forgiveness."

Dean stiffened, his brows furrowing. "Forgiveness?" he repeated, unsure.

"She's holding onto pain, and it's justified," Lisa said, her voice soft but resolute. "But if she can let some of it go—if she can see that people are more than their worst moments—it'll save her heart from hardening."

Dean looked away, jaw tightening. "They hurt someone, Lis. Someone she cares about. They lied. She trusted them."

"I know," Lisa said gently. "She needs to know it's okay to forgive. Even if it takes time."

Dean was quiet for a long moment. The swing creaked beneath them. He shook his head, his voice low. "I don't want her to think I'm telling her to just get over it."

"You won't," Lisa said, placing a hand on his chest. "You'll help her see that forgiveness is strength—not surrender. And she'll listen, Dean. Because it's coming from you." Asilence settled over them then, warm and familiar.

Dean turned to her again, his voice breaking."Why'd you have to leave?" he asked quietly. "Why you?"

Lisa looked at him with a sadness that went deeper than words, her smile soft and bittersweet. "I didn't want to. Not for one second. But life doesn't always give us the time we think we have."

Dean swallowed hard. "I wasn't ready."

"Neither was I. But I held on as long as I could. For you. For her. And I never really left, Dean. I'm in every part of her heart. Every part of yours." Lisa said.

Dean nodded slowly, the pain shifting—but not disappearing. Just finding a quieter place to live. The swing slowed. The dream was fading—he could feel it. The sun began to dim, the colors washing out like an old photograph.

"She's got your heart," Lisa said, her voice growing distant. "Trust that she'll know what to do with it." And then, like morning fog under sunlight, she was gone.

Dean jolted awake, the early light of dawn filtering through the blinds. His heart ached, but there was something steadier inside him now. A calm. A purpose. He got up quietly and passed Rebecca's door. She was still sleeping, curled beneath the covers, peaceful at last.

Dean placed a hand gently on the doorknob and whispered to the silence, "We've got her, Lisa. You and me—we've got her." And then he turned away, the sun rising behind him.