Part Five: Want

Murasaki Suishou and The Queen of Blueberry Toast

"Now I realize this is highly unorthodox..." Shiori-sempai began, "But really, Savil, there's no reason you shouldn't be graduated."

"Unless you don't want to be," This office lady added absently.

As for the little herald, she interjected nothing herself, more than understanding from her five years of academic life that educators, as a rule, liked to talk. A lot. And often to themselves.

"You have two charges now. Two rather difficult ones I might add. Most people in your position would have asked for a transfer after having those two dumped on them, months of red tape or not. Not to mention you'll be moving soon, back to..." she consulted a computer screen and blinked rather confused by what she saw, "Chicago. Besides, you've switched schools so many times already..."

"Yes, I have some friends, and not all of them are older than me." A giggle.

"Well, do you want to stay... among them? At least people like them? I can't think of anything else keeping you in school."

"I'd like to write them letters."

Shiori-sempai nodded and adjusted her glasses... "Ah..." ...As if unprepared for the assent to her plans. "I guess... you're officially a graduate then." A few keystrokes and it was done.

"Domo arigatou gozaimasu!" Savil bowed deeply as she could, only to go springing into the air from whence she darted to the door.

"Good luck," the office lady sighed as she watched her depart in a flurry of ribbons and flashes of her panties. "Funny little girl, you know." This directed towards the teacher. "Awfully cute though."

"Cute? You call an eleven year old teaching astrophysics cute? Now her brother," She sighed here in listless lust. "He's cute."

"But I hear he's an assassin or some junk. At least he was." Tapping on some keys. "But his file doesn't say, naturally. Geeze, it makes me wonder what their parents were like."

"I wonder if they HAD any parents."

Saffie wandered down the stairs to the inlet of lockers that stood on the edge of the concrete moat that encircled the school. Class hadn't technically ended yet, so she met no one less the sparrows picking about the ground counted. The door to her cubby squeaked and flashed in the traces of the afternoon sun that breached the pergola. Inside rested her pocket book, her shoes since she still wore her school slippers. Her soccer uniform had already been sent home. A silver mirror with her name sloppily engraved in a hand that wasn't hers. She took a moment to admire herself in it, pretending not to notice Akiko until her reflection appeared beside her own.

"I graduated," she told her.

"Sugoi! Honto ni? Yapi! Pachi pachi!" The merriment in which they swung each other by the arms lasted only a few seconds and bore no smiles. "So you're going away, huh?"

"Yes, tomorrow."

"So you won't be able to play soccer with us anymore?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I might come back." A wink added to this as she spun her handbag on her finger tip for no particular reason.

Akiko knotted her hands behind her back and danced sideways on her toes. "Oh, would you? I'd like it! Just like I liked seeing Ken yesterday. He must be really fun to herald for."

One of those "you don't know the half of it" smiles. She didn't though.

"I don't know about Ran..."

"Ah," Another shrug as she swung her things over her shoulder and posed like a gypsy girl. "He's a whole different demon."

"Yeah." This lead into another long pause wherein nothing moved save a few threads of their hair and Aikiko's thoughts as her companion sipped on them like lemonade. "Hey can I...?"

"Give me something to remember you by? If you want. It's not like I could forget."

"Oh, you never forget anything!" A squeal as the other girl's locker slid open revealing quite a cache of shojo manga, photos of half naked androgynous J-rockers and all manner of 200 yen figurines. Savil admired every one, pondered on them. What made her think of Akiko? Akiko did! People were seldom what they offered of themselves for the world to ravage, and gift or not, she opted for practicality instead, pointing to the pearly pink Hello Kitty auto-focus single speed party camera.

It's owner giggled, amazed her takobun were left to her. "Sure! The button sticks though.."

"I know... is it loaded?" It was, she also knew, asked anyway just to talk, a yes, she snapped the third of thirty-six pictures. What were the other two of? She wondered as her subject's voguing begged a second picture.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, so..."

The camera slid into her pocket and the sparkly pin on her pocketbook clanked loudly as she leaned over, her sanguine sapphire eyes lingering on the black beneath.

::I know you well enough by now.::

Akiko stood alone for a long time afterwards, lips still smarting from that kiss long after Saffie had started off for the countryside...

No, you were never a child.

But I don't think you really minded much, did you?

Crawford crawled over to the pile of exhausted bodies, forgetting for the moment the workmen and their borrowed toy. His hands wandered over Nagi's body, as if he wanted to remember every line of it. Then he turned him over onto his back, and grasped his chin, forcing him to look at him.

"No, I'm quite through with you -- for now," he said in response to the perceived question in the boy's eyes.

"You know, there are other ways of getting attention from us than being rebellious. It's so tiresome to see that sort of behavior from a child, but even more irritating to see that sort of thing from you, Nagi. You are so much more than a mere child."

He released his chin then. "But I think you realize that."

A look passed between them, and then Nagi nodded, averting his eyes from Crawford's as if he were ashamed. Brad patted his thigh, and told him to get his clothes and get cleaned up, and then to come back. Wordlessly, the boy gathered his things and left, walking as if he were in pain. Crawford looked over at Schuldich and smirked.

My, you are quite the disciplinarian. Remind me to get on your bad side sometime.

He leaned down and claimed the redhead's slightly swollen mouth in a bruising kiss. Ran his hands over Schuldich's chest and stomach, then looked over his shoulder at the maintenance boy.

And he slapped him -- hard.

"I didn't say you could fuck my boyfriend."

The boy stared at him, aghast, with one hand on his reddening cheek and tears in his eyes. "But...But...You said -- "

"I said nothing of the sort."

He looked over at his co-workers for assistance, but none of them spoke or moved. "I -- "

"You know, I should punish you. Spread you out on the carpet and take you in front of everyone. What do you say to that?"

The boy was silent; however, a soft groan came up from the audience. A slow, sly grin lit up Crawford's face. He chuckled.

"Don't worry, boy. I wouldn't sully myself with you."

Crawford hauled the boy to his feet, but tossed his clothing to one of the men in the audience. "Get out." He shoved the boy towards the door. "All of you. Now. And be sure you don't leave any thing behind."

He watched as they gathered up their tools and rolled the debris-laden wheelbarrows out of the suite, and when they had gone, Brad looked down at Schuldich, who was still on his back on the carpet, watching him and smoking one of the clove cigarettes from the pack Brad had in his trouser pocket.

He looked down at himself, and found his skin glistened with various fluids. Idly, he streaked one finger over his lower belly, and rubbed it against his palm. "I guess my shower was wasted, huh? Not that I'm really complaining..."

Not complaining at all...

He reached for his trousers and drew out a cigarette, lit it and turned to admire the bright day through the broken out doors. Then he picked up the rest of his clothes, and glanced down at his lounging lover.

"I feel the need for a shower, and then...I think I'll go out for lunch and a walk. Care to join me?"

The workers, rather sinewy men though they were, scuttled away from suite twenty-four in a manner distinctly indicative of mice, the fronts of their damp trousers remaining hidden behind their cartloads of broken glass. The youngest rather limped a bit, stumbled on things he couldn't see, fumbled his reddening cheek.

In the service elevator, one of his elder compatriots scooped an arm around his shoulder.

"Didn't I tell you we always get a show going to that room?"

The all laughed, even the boy. "Is it always THAT good?" he inquired, smitten face and insults well forgotten as he took in what ripples of afterglow remained to him.

"Hell no! Usually just some plain ol' full frontal nudity. You lucky little bastard!"

A second, this one dabbing at someone else's pants. "I'd sell my right arm to do to that redhead what you did!"

So they all laughed again and helped themselves to some second hand kisses.

Schuldich didn't answer at once, rather leaned back and took a few more lengthy drags as he sampled the distance fading musings of the clean up crew. Broke into a fit of giggles when they broke into their own rendition of kissing. His smoke puffed from his lips as if he were about to change into a dragon.

"Next time," He began, taking to his own train of thought. "We teach him some bedside manners. Nagi I mean. You're supposed to be nice and lie around for awhile after you have a nice screw. At least have a cigarette..."

::Hey, after last night I hung around and finished you off, didn't I? Hmm? Oh, wait, you were the one hanging around. Never mind!::

Crawford ended whatever remark he had been planning and scowled instead.

Farfie came bounding into the room, sniffed at the unfamiliar odor of the workmen, scratched his ear with his foot, ran back into the kitchen, retrieved his chew toy and cast himself down on the deck for a sun and a gnaw.

As for Schuldich, he got to his feet and stretched, yawned his best, most irritating yawn.

"Well, I'll join you for a shower, but otherwise... call me sentimentalist but I plan on staying home today. Setting something on fire."

Farfie's ears perked. In his canine state, however, it was doubtful he remembered what those words meant when uttered by the redhead.

That and Saffie asked me to.

All the better to plot, to plan.

Not that I'm good at it but...

I've got more up my sleeves than you think.

Wait... I'm naked.

Let Bradley try to figure that smirk out.

A fire? Crawford mused as he walked to their bedroom, shields up. Oh, shit.

Dare I leave the suite?

He threw his clothes on the bed, his watch and specs along with them, and padded into the bathroom.

Oh, what the hell. I'll just pack a bag before I leave, just in case.

I'll miss that piano though, if that's what he has in mind...burning down the suite.

I never know with him.

Brad held his hand under the faucet until it was suitably warm, then he flipped the knob, and all twelve shower heads jetted to life. Crawford turned around to find Schuldich scrunching his fingers through his hair, still very much nude.

Just as he liked him.

Brad walked past him, and threw the bolt on the bathroom door. Turned around and said with a smirk, "Now, about you wanting my cock..."

Youji cocked his head and pondered the bottle, shining there in a patchy pool of sunlight. Then he picked it up, and squirted a little bit on his finger, and tasted it. Smacked his lips a little, and then shuffled over to his lover on his knees.

He knelt again, and gave his lover that same wondering examination as he had given the mayonnaise bottle. Then, just as he eyed Omi's knees, Youji squirted a thin streak over one, and bent down to lick it clean with the tip of his tongue. Licked his lips, and squirted another dab on one finger and rubbed them together, making them glisten.

Smirking at his newly oiled fingertips, Youji sat back, and patted his lap, as if to say, "Have a seat."

Oh, Omi had a seat alright.

He had a seat on his lover's chest, having knocked him over with no apparent regard for the fact both of them had just eaten a great deal of cake. One of his hands popped Youji's shiny fingers in his mouth, then wound down around his denim clad crotch, and the other came up and caressed his golden hair. Combed it away from his forehead until it all hung down around his ears. Then he bent and kissed the center, wondering close up if he could indeed make out a faint, reddish mark there.

He giggled, snuggled their noses together and kissed the mayonnaise-lacquered lips. The cold and smoky surface of his cheek.

Sank the tips of his teeth into his neck...

"Omi!" So exclaimed out of laughing surprise, not excruciating pain. Not that it didn't hurt, it did. But only a little, and in such a delicious sort of way.

Youji started inching his lover's shirt up until his lower back was laid bare to the wind and the sun and his loving touch. His hands crept cautiously over the exposed, smooth plane, then buried themselves under the rumpled garment to bestow even more caresses.

"Going to mark me, and claim me as your own?"

Cause I already am yours, you know.

"I never thought you'd be so...energetic," he added with a tiny smile. "Remind me to always keep some cake on hand in the new place."

"Oh, I will... I definitely will!" Omi exclaimed, leaning down and kissing at the little marks he had made.

"But I'm genki Omi, remember? I'm supposed to be the cute little one, and as much as I like being cute, I don't know about little..." With a shrug that detached his open collar from both of his shoulders, he finally gave up and cast away the film of deep blue that had been hiding his stiff nipples... which Youji reached for almost at once, much to his pleasure. One that he returned through the thin cotton of his lover's T-shirt.

"Will you do the blue ceiling with me? Right here in the grass I mean... is it OK?"

And with a little titter of mocking for their reversed rolls.

"I'll be very gentle."

(OOC: In Japan, doing the blue ceiling (which I was not able to conjugate I'm afraid or else I would have written it in Japanese) is a euphemism for having sex in the open.)

Youji cocked a brow, his fingers still lavishing attention on the lovely, rosy nipples presented to him. Marveled over how much Omi did look like an otherworldly creature in the dappled light.

Never thought I'd be in this situation again...

Funny, though...I don't think I mind it...

I want him...In every way...

With one last light pinch of the swollen buds, his hands swooped down Omi's waist, and Youji freed the top button of his lover's shorts. Stretched his sinewy arms over his head and gave him a heavy-lidded, sultry look.

"I'm all yours, Omi."

"I know..." Omi breathed, sliding down over Youji's body, feeling it tense beneath him as they met in some very interesting manners. Tight, and sweet. Flipping in and out with the nodding of the leaves above as he dragged himself down. "You're mine."

His pants began to pull away from him, and so he shed them, crouched bare above Youji, shimmering and young.

"Always, even though I'm only seventeen."

His lover's pants began to meet the same fate as his own, leaving him and slow motion for the pile near the duffel bag.

"I love you so much..."

Followed by the boxers which he stretched to impossible length, ruined as he bound Youji's ankles with them, and slipped between his thighs.

Youji tested the silk-and-elastic bonds around his ankles, expecting the garment to tear away under pressure, but it held. Surprisingly. Delightfully.

This is rather...different.

Of course, this time I want to be the bottom...

And you are so...

"Gorgeous."

One hand ghosted down Omi's face, tickled his lips.

"I love you too, Omi. I think I always have..."

"I was just afraid to say so..."

Omi let his head roll back and pleasure in those words as if they had been very daring caresses, but then he rocked forward once again, and kissed, snuggled, fondled with whatever innocence fondling could incur.

"I love you too. Don't you know that? Just how very much."

A little jerk of his stiffness against one of the thighs that encircled him.

"More than that..."

Another deep plundering of Youji's mouth.

"More than that!"

The mayonnaise bottle he snatched from the grass, letting its cap roll away into the stream, where it fell with a little splash and was eventually examined by the cautious but ever curious koi, who were not fond of QP mayo it appeared.

He, however, was and it seemed his lover followed suit. So be it. He squished a more than reasonable dollop of the stuff back and forth between his hands, since it was quite cool. One two of this thin digits had been adequately dabbed with the rather golden sauce, he suspended them before the half-lidded eyes.

"Sure you don't mind me putting this in you?"

"Since it's eventually going on this," Youji said, dealing a quick stroke to Omi's erection, "no, I don't."

Youji gave Omi another quick, light caress, and slid his hand up his own stomach, up his chest, then stretched both arms over his head again. He bent his legs a little more, and dreamily closed his eyes, breath hitching in his chest when he felt Omi's slick fingers flitting over his most sensitive areas.

"You look so happy," Omi mused, though to who it was not at once obvious. His wet fingers only just brushed the curvy slit of Youji's ass, felt him out, while his eyes traversed the body beneath his on awe.

And then he found his blush. Or his blush found him.

Oh... err... was I this tight. Oh gosh... oh no I...

Come on now! Tight is good! Think of how it'll feel to be...

His nose began to itch horribly and he hoped it wouldn't bleed, though the sensation trying him from there, something on his own form. That woke him up and he leaned forward, his hand caught between both of their legs as he reached inside Youji for the first time, squeezing the warm flesh with his finger tip, tweaking and rubbing it, just how he liked to feel it himself.

Rather entranced by how he seemed to be drawing more or less the same reaction.

It hadn't been painful, that first foray of Omi's finger inside him, just rather odd. Slightly uncomfortable. But then he began to move it about oh-so-tenderly, and all that discomfort was replaced by a tiny tongue of pleasure, licking away at his insides -- and with it came suitably lewd thoughts.

"I am happy. So very happy..."

Youji stretched like a cat, and rocked against Omi's hand, his sex sliding against his lover's own.

"More..." he sighed. "Please, Omi-ai..."

Omi giggled a bit and mopped at his eyes with the back of one of his hands. He was whimpering to himself now, and for all honesty couldn't figure out why himself. With his lover's eyes drifted closed so, he took the time only to still the sounds, and let the tears bite his cheeks.

"You ask so sweetly."

Hey, my voice isn't catching or anything...

This is pretty strange.

A soft glance about the clearing -- the bursting sky, the speaking brook and how they all found themselves ticked with gold.

Yeah, it is... it's like I never woke up last night.

"I couldn't refuse you anything..." sighed as he pulled his hand away and stroked himself for a moment. The pleasures he could wield upon his own body seemed to be fading. Now at least, that he knew another body, another soul who could touch and be touched.

"You're all mine..."

He inched around then, grass crushing beneath his knees before he leaned in and took Youji. Not all at once, but in small, beckoning suggestions of his rocking hips which he murmured incoherent beauties between, finally swirling himself inside him as if he would have his hand.

Where he had been expecting pain, Youji'd found only pleasure. Unadulterated pleasure. He had no qualms about expressing his gratitude either, and did so through a series of sensual little moans. Shivered when Omi rolled inside him.

Murmured words of love and encouragement.

Just all blue sky and green leaves and the sun on Omi's hair, making it sparkle as if it were threaded with yellow topazes. And then Omi was inside him to the hilt, and Youji let out a sigh. Rubbed his spread thighs against Omi's hips.

"I...am yours. And you are...mine."

Omi, echoed his lover then, dumbly and with blind eyes, though his lips assumed a smile -- "I'm yours and you're mine."

You like it when I take you.

So he bent down and had his lover's mouth as well, as he rocked back and forth -- from him and deeper than before, letting the sunlight tickle his back and his fingers tickle the hair that spilled about his lover's face.

"I'm yours and you're mine."

Youji clenched around him, forgiving with pressure. He whimpered himself, leaning tight together, and taking up his damp sex. Smoothing him all over.

"I'm yours and you're mine."

Just getting used to the feeling of thrusting. The tilt of his own small weight. The little sounds as they moved on the grass. The birds didn't seem frightened away by their long and slow. Nor the cicadas who had just begun to rasp away...

And a voice answering his chant, speaking it with him. "I'm yours and you're mine."

"Ah...Ah, Omi!"

Youji's hands flew from their grassy bed to clasp Omi's shoulders. Hips rolling up to meet every thrust his lover dealt him; encouraging that most welcome hand on his aching erection.

"Yours...Oh, most definitely yours..."

"I love you...Love you...Love..."

Omi gave a harsh, little cry as if the slow and velvety moans uttering words he craved but words he somehow found biting him like shards of a mirror were pounding into him in turn, ravaging his spirit. Tears welled up in his eyes and he plucked them with his fingers, popping them into his mouth as if they would vanish then. Youji tossed under him and sobbed himself, but not a sad sigh, oh how he wished inside it was and they could just faint together there in tears and.

He screamed again and felt himself go weightless and wild with the first pangs of orgasm. One of his lover's legs ended up hitched over his shoulder. He stabbed him with himself and kissed his calf with his tongue.

"...love you too..."

He was blind when he finally came and even after his climax had passed, he hovered over his companion, hissing and pushing a bit, smoothing Youji's heels with his fingers.

"You're... so... pretty."

But then he was very still and glancing around the garden almost guiltily.

Youji lay panting under him, still clutching at his shoulders, having had orgasmed most gloriously along with his lover. So enrapt was he in the afterglow that he didn't notice right off that things weren't all right with his lover.

He was so...still; looked terribly worried, as well.

Such odd behavior was NOT what he was used to seeing in a lover after a particularly splendid bout of lovemaking, and it worried him.

"Omi?" he murmured, reaching up to tenderly feather his fingers through his hair. "Omi? Are you okay?"

Omi shook his head, bumping his ear against Youji's fingers, and then snatching at them wordlessly as if they had escaped him against his will.

"Y-yeah. I'm just f-fine. Really... oh, my stupid, stupid blood pressure..." He finally managed to pull himself away, delicately so but still scrubbing at his eyes, which he knew had gone red by now. His hand then, laced with tears he hoped would go unnoticed, clapped across Youji's mouth and hung there. With barely a whisper. "I thought I heard someone..."

Silently they nodded and started pulling on their clothes, each other's clothes, apologizing with gestures. It ached inside, moving so soon and so worried through these motions so soon after lovemaking.

Well... just shit I guess.

Not to mention that between the mayonnaise and their own juices, some dry-cleaning would invariably be required.

Silent as to errant children, they slipped back through the doors of their willow and into the soft grass. Back to the bridge and the lobby and...

"Oh no! I forgot the duffel!"

Youji pecked him, shrugged, and doubled back.

Omi bashed his forehead against the wall of the lobby as soon as no one was looking.

Ken refused to return the various waves offered him by the various catamites and the fellow they had met the other day in the office. Rather, he closed the doors as tightly as they had been before and promptly buried his face in his hands.

Well, so much for that going over anything close to well.

Ran was impossible to read save for the lingering redness on his cheeks. Cheeks he didn't dare touch presently. He held his own and prayed for sanity to smile upon his life once again.

"Yes. Yes I am. And I'll be damned if I know what to do with it either!"

The unseen waves of despair and confusion emanating from Ken were palpable in the tense silence that had invaded the hallway; so strong that Ran was stricken with guilt over his reaction. But, in his mind, he couldn't have reacted in any way other than unfavorable. It wasn't his problem, but it was. It wasn't his villa, but apparently, it would be his new home.

And yet, he couldn't help but indulge in the selfish wish that he and Ken could hole up somewhere quiet and live in peace -- even though he knew he wouldn't get what he wanted.

Resignedly, Ran let his bag of clothing drop to the floor, and he pushed away from the wall.

"It seems like Fate's played a joke on you, but then apparently, it's done that a lot."

Scuffing one toe on the crystalline walkway, Ran hesitantly walked over to his lover, and carefully laid his hands on Ken's stiff, knotted shoulders, and gently kneaded them.

"I don't understand all this. I hate that you are in this position. But..."

He reached around him and clasped his wrists. "Wherever you go, I'll go, if you want me with you. Even...Even if I hate it."

Ken let Ran have his wrists, felt as if he was giving toys up to a child for some reason. Laughed darkly in his own thoughts and spirited both of them out under one of the maples and a holy arch of initials writ there, old as the tree and dripping sap still the letters were.

Finally, he turned to face him, tugging his hands to stay near him, even if that ended up making them clasp around his throat. His lover's grip faltered and he adored him all the more for it.

"I think... no... never mind... we need to talk. Screw what I think."

Since I'm sure it makes no sense.

"I know this is all pretty, really fucked up. But it's not forever, it's not something we can't work on. If anything, it's gotta be... easier to fix than me or who I am so... hell with it. Let's start small."

"Ran, I don't want you to hate it. I want you to be happy. Tell me what would make you happy as far as the stupid villa goes."

I think I know, but you have to learn to ask sometimes.

You have to learn to talk to me. Even if you can't touch me.

His hand traced over the ones that held his neck, not trying to weave them apart, but press them closer if anything.

Ran moved closer to Ken, enfolding him even further in his embrace, his hands still lingering around his neck, threading through his hair, and dipping into his collar. Not too far down, though, lest he encounter any scars.

Not that he hadn't already.

"What would make me happy?"

I think you already know what would make me happy, but that just isn't going to happen, so...

"I don't want it to be a brothel. I don't want to live in one, and I certainly don't want you living in one. I...I don't want you to have to deal with any of that crap. I don't want you to be reminded of...your past. I figure you have enough unpleasant memories to deal with, and I only want you to have pleasant ones from now on."

He gathered Ken close and gave him a hug.

"As many as I can possibly give you..."

Ran kissed him on the forehead, then on the mouth. Shyly darted the tip of his tongue between his lips, then pulled away. Smoothed the hair back from Ken's forehead with gentle fingers.

"Why can't we renovate it and make it into a hotel? Or a...library? Or a...flower shop?" On that last, a tiny smile graced his face, and Ran shook his head. "The villa could be anything we want it to be."

"But the final decision is up to you."

Ken's face caught aflame and he promptly lost all feeling below his shoulders. His lips burned where Ran's tongue had slid against them, but oh! In the most impossibly delightful way. He folded them in for a second, gulping to try and hide the fact he had tasted his boyfriend from his own skin. And quite liked it.

Ran in the mean time seemed quite vexed by his rather goofy reaction- his hot face, the way he wrang his hands behind his back. He, Hidaka Ken, former kept boy getting so silly over one little flicker of wet muscle. But it wasn't all entirely due to this small intrusion, even if that did flatter and wound him inside. Make him want to go running off crying, even while holding Ran as close as he could.

"Well, you do know that that sort of thing... that's unheard of here on Terra. Hey," shaking his head a bit, "World of eccentric people or not, this is one hell of a backwards, traditionalist society and... to them, it's gonna be absurd. They're used to their brothels, they take great pride in them and..." waving a dismissive hand at some imaginary crowd, he still kept his eyes fixed on the violet ones of his boyfriend. "...so, I am already theirs. I'm used to this- being stared at, the whispers, the rumors. And if I'm not, considering what I am, I'd better get used to it. The question is, are you willing to live out your life here with a reputation? To have fingers pointing at you? For everyone to think you're weird, even if the whole reason I brought you here was so this wouldn't happen?"

A shy shake of his head and he giggled a little. "Especially after, you know, living in the shadows for so long?"

Then this he promised with his lips above his lovers, speaking into him, or nearly so, "Because I really don't mind... I'll burn every bed in that place for you and I'll never look back."

A long kiss. Merely pressure, somewhat thumping with his nervous heart. But a long kiss, none the less.

After those precious, blissful moments of having Ken's lips pressed against his own, Ran was left breathless, his heart tripping heavily within its bone cage. He was happy beyond belief, and it shone in his face.

Oh, if you'd only do that again. And again.

He let one arm dangle down Ken's back, just brushing it, his other hand cupping the back of his lover's head, and whispered softly against his lips.

"Everyone probably already thinks I'm weird, because I am weird. And as for the reputation, well, I had one back in Ja -- Anti-Terra, if you recall. I was the anti-social, bitter one. The stubborn, secretive one, who was hard to like, much less love."

"And maybe it's time I came out of the shadows..."

He kissed him again, a shorter copy of Ken's own. "So, yeah, I can live out my life here with a reputation -- but only if it means I have you with me, and you're happy. Truly happy, and, one day, no longer afraid."

Another lingering kiss, and another tiny smile.

"So...Shall I get the kerosene and the matches, or will you?"

"You can, I was never much for planning things out, especially burning things. And besides, one of us has to get the marshmallows!"

And then he laughed, snatching Ran up in his arms and spinning him around. Oblivious to the little crowd which, as if called forth by his imagination, was now wondering over the sight of them there beneath the branches of the ancient oaks. Laughing on the threshold of a whorehouse. With each other, when by all sense, they should have been laughing alone or paying someone to join each of them alone.

Oh, fuck sense!

"So in the end we're right back where we started from! In a flower shop filled with boys everyone drools over only it's not us! Oh no! It's whoever comes to work for us and we know they'll be cute and we'll just get to watch them being watched from the back and snicker to each other for years and years and years!"

We'll be are own masters, masters of others. Hey, turnabout is fair play. Part of me is dying to boss someone around. Just a little.

But we won't be mean.

Asking the employees not to do it in the refrigerators isn't mean.

"Until we get so old and grey that people will come up to us and say, 'Hey! You, an assassin?! You're totally screwing with me!'."

Because everyone knows by now.

But if you want... I'll let you go. Just not tomorrow. It's nice to think... we might get old now. And die in our sleep. Like the normal people we aren't.

Even if I'll never see you as old. Not if your hair went grey tomorrow.

"And I'll get you a library all your own that'll be the ENVY of ever Veen even in Ada and it'll be just yours! No one else's. We'll plant a biiiiig field of sunflowers outside so I can watch you reading from there and you can come outside to sit with me any time you want. We'll be alone whenever we want, and we can have parties and you can read me bedtimes stories!"

I never got over that. I love it. I love you. I want you and your voice with me, every night before I sleep.

Crazy as it sounds.

"I love bedtime stories. And then for a joke, I'll get you a cat! Any kind of cat you want so that even if no one from Kitiker knows, the JOKE'S ON THEM!"

You're happy, aren't you? At last...

"Then a flower shop it is. Maybe no one will mind losing one brothel on Terra if they can come and ogle and flirt with the staff -- not that I really care if they do mind." Ran shrugged. "All I care about around here is you."

I'll be holding books in my hands instead of a katana. Books and cups of tea and you. How very strange, not to have to kill anymore. I never really thought about it before.

Never thought about having a life after Weiss. Never thought I'd live that long.

But since I apparently am...

Ran reached out and petted Ken's chocolate-colored hair; threaded his fingers through it and admired it as it caught the light.

I want you to spend it with me...

"You can watch the workers from the back. I...would rather watch you, morning and night, from now until the day I die."

He dropped his hand down to Ken's shoulder. "And I'll have my library, and I'll sit with you every day amongst your sunflowers, and every night I'll read to you -- any book you wish."

"But as for the cat," he added, leaning in close again, "I think we should have a Siberian. How does that sound?"

But Ran didn't give Ken a chance to answer, for, in the next second he was kissing his lover again, giving him another teasing flick of his tongue between his lips.

Ken shook. He couldn't help it. But instead of allowing his beloved to duck away, he snatched up his cheeks and rubbed their noses together.

I'm NOT mad at you, for the last time. I need you. I'm just a mess.

Need me too. Yeah, that's what I want.

And you do.

"I think that sounds," he finally answered, "like you have one wicked sense of humor. I like it!"

Ran with a sense of humor at all. I love it! I do!

But even as he snatched up most of their dropped bags and threw them over his shoulder, calling for his lover to follow him, he started to wonder. All those years ago, seeming like mere moments ago -- was it Aya he had loved so, or Ran from afar, trying to reach him from that endlessly empty cavern of ice? Was Aya but a dream of lusty nights, or what for others would have been lusty, but for him mere chances of caressing his own cheek for want of a touch? Or was Aya something he had truly craved? No, was Ran? Was Ran even alive back then to him?

It felt like slow motion, these past few days, shot still and sifting through the clearest lens that rippled for only moments. And yet, looking back on time, banished as it was from Terra... it hadn't been so long, had it?

He could hear the little soap opera girls screaming to their friends as they were swept off their feet -- "Oh this is all happening so fast!".

"C'mon now!" he still insisted. "We can't have a flower shop in Valdemar standing in the middle of the Planet! Let's go book ourselves a flight!"

As they tore down the halls, hand in hand, watching each other more than they were going, much to the dismay of quite a few pedestrians, the words rang in his ears and grounded the flight of his feet and his spirit.

"You can watch the workers from the back. I...would rather watch you, morning and night, from now until the day I die."

How solemn the promise of forever from one who only dared slide past such words. Forever or just finality? Did he have time to worry about dying? Yes, but he didn't want it. But finally having a future. The scared him inside. And he held onto Ran, laughing and waiting to wake up.

I'm running away to some strange city with someone I've loved from afar for...I don't even know long it's been. It just snuck up on me, more or less.

I hurt him that night, I know it. I guess that changed everything.

No, it did change everything...

I have a new life ahead of me, one I thought I'd never have.

I didn't even know that my real self still existed. Feels odd, not shutting Ken out as I used to do. Everything feels odd.

I wonder what Youji and Omi would say if they could see us now?

I wonder what Aya would say?

I wish I knew...

The thought of his sister sobered Ran a little, but he did his best to cover by putting his arm around Ken and giving him a hug.

"When we get to Valdemar, the first thing I want to do is get a job...somewhere. We're going to need money to live on until we get the flower shop ready for business, and I don't want you to be spending all of yours."

And then: "Umm...There are jobs in Valdemar that don't require having sex with strangers, having annoying, swishy, bishonen shop clerks as co-workers, or having to dress up in drag in public aren't there?"

Ken actually had to slow down a moment to ponder this question, and he did so, while rubbing his chin. Ran rather blanched and chewed his lip, so he rather smoothes his hair. Chuckled for him, even though the answer turned out to be, "Well, I would assume so... err..."

And then with a merry snap of his fingers. "At least you look good in a dress!"

Striding into the mouth of the terminal... or past the place where the hall abruptly shifted its tone from relaxing bombast to sheer business, he cuddled his boyfriend to him just the same.

I wonder... I hear all these stories of love fading over time but I could never imagine myself unwilling to be near you... like this... when it's not you touching me... even though, you know I do want that it's just...

He started speaking rather abruptly once they had reached the line at the counter; a counter which happened to bear more resemblance to a ticket window at a well-to-do theatre than much else, despite that the place had otherwise been furnished in such a corporate manner.

"You don't have to get a job though. Didn't I say I'd take care of you? Besides, you know how they deck brothels out! No chance we WON'T make a profit on selling the umm... so called-d‚cor."

Another window opened and his words broke off as he dashed over to meet the newly-revealed attendant. "Three tickets for Valdemar. Tomorrow. First class."

Not having had a chance to even offer her much practiced "Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?" she pouted distinctly and otherwise omitted words besides the occasional question. Such as, "I can't seat all three of you together. The seats in that cabin are arranged in pairs, Mr...?"

"Hidaka."

Almost everyone in the lobby cocked an eyebrow, widened their eyes or at least looked in their direction.

Great... but in the mean time...

"I'll take the window then, in front of those. And a bottle of really dark red sparkling grape juice to drink on the way. Make it sweet! And a box of Formosa oolong tea."

"Formosa eh?" She grumbled. But otherwise gave them less grief than the surrounding travelers.

Sky blue tickets clamped in his hand at last, Ken fanned himself with them and asked playfully.

"So, what else would you like to do before dinner? The plane doesn't leave till ten tomorrow morning."

Schuldich groaned, took a moment to surreptitiously adjust the temperature to somewhere past the current lack of heat experienced by the liquid hydrogen bobbing merrily around the center of Jupiter and stuffed Crawford's face under it. Needless to say, after the spanking he got for it, and the more than adequate douse of cold water, neither of them were in much of a mood to go about being their usual insatiable selves.

I don't care how kinky I am otherwise, I do NOT like that paddle... owowowowowie!

Bradley left without saying goodbye, dropping his shields, or making any further attempt to drop his pants. Which left his boyfriend alone, naked and with a smarting bottom, right back in the middle of the living room floor where he had been in the first place.

Farfie had fallen asleep by now and was snoring loudly, not to mention drooling all over the patio. His master took a moment to throw some cold bourbon in his eyes before storming back to his chambers.

Oh, they might not have offered explanations for most of what they did, but of all frightening things, usually, someone among Schwartz had some rationalization for anything. For instance, why they had an armoire, haunted by Narnians or not, when their suite included a perfectly descent walk in closet.

Because Schuldich had moved into said closet. Presently, he retied to it, locked the door behind him and struck a match from the holster beside the door.

One by one he lit his candles that hovered on the shelves above the bars intended for hangers, now treated to only the coils of midnight and maroon silk he had ordered special for the place. No furniture otherwise stood here, save for the old cherry desk. Well, not as old as some of the other decor... late 1940's. It had seven secret compartments once the writing surface was lowered and he had only ever managed to find six of them. Once it had been home to bills and illicit love letters. Now it's many drawers were empty, it's cubbies bare except for a ruby glass vase of charcoal pencils and a ream of faintly greenish drawing paper.

Schuldich stretched, despite that no one was around to see, and sat down on his stool, pencil hitting the paper before his bottom met the soft and refreshingly cool red leather of his stool.

One cheek cupped in his hand, he drew. Fast, and feathery. Shattered and without sanity. Lovely and awful. Just like everything else he did, with the possible exception of his boyfriend, one of the few people he had ever taken his time with, and then, mostly for the purposes of irritating him because oh, Crawford was delightful annoyed.

He drew him dressed up as a girl. No reason.

Another Saffie portrait? How many did this make? He'd lost count years ago.

Farfarello crucified and loving it as God (a very cute girl who reminded him of a herald he had bumped into in Valdemar) decided turn about was fair play regarding the flaming hot cock threat.

Another Saffie, sitting on Bradley's lap this time. She looked too old.

The little worker boy he had borrowed. With a lapdog. Two lapdogs... sitting somewhere on the moon.

A cat. No reason. He just felt like drawing a cat.

And a cat boy.

A cat boy who looked suspiciously like Aya...

Despite the discomfort he felt, Youji jogged all the way back to their willow to pick up his duffel, tossing the mayo bottle inside as he ducked back out of its sheltering branches. And, despite his discomfort, he jogged back. He had a good reason.

Something was wrong with Omi, he just knew it. He'd had lovers cry after sex before, riding high on the crest of their intense orgasms. It was just another way to release the tension of it. He never thought anything about it, just held them and soothed them until they settled down.

But...this was different. Very different, and he was very concerned.

Even though he was all smiles when he met Omi again in the lobby, finding him standing in -- of all places -- by the wall near the back door. His arm stole around his lover's shoulders, and he pulled him close for quick hug and a kiss.

"Come on, Omi. Let's go upstairs."

"Kya! Let go of me!" cried the woman Youji had just now embraced. A dainty blond thing, surely, but not one he could have mistaken for Omi. Save that she had indeed been dressed in blue.

They stared at one another, shaking their heads. She moved to slap him but he had already left after Omi, disappeared into the hall headed for their room. A perfectly ordinary hall, somewhat worn and with a soda and ice machine halfway down it.

But it felt still, more tranquil than the bosom of the sunny afternoon. He heard no one in the rooms, no one at all. Just the ice crystals settling in the machine... and someone singing.

The summer fields grow high.
We made garland crowns in hiding,
Pulled stems of flowers from my hair.
Blue in the stream
Like none I have seen
Apart from dreams
That escape me.
There was no girl as bold as you.

How I've learned to please,
To doubt myself in need,
You'll never,
You'll never know.
You'll never know.

Not as if the song had been entrancing -- rather it was shrill and silly as if sung out on a playground somewhere, despite the lyrics. By a child in the halls. He peered around the soda machine and saw here there.

A little girl, about eleven, with saffron hair and two sapphire eyes peering out from under her cap. Rather like a street urchin would have worn, though they had been somewhat fashionable... four, three years ago. She tugged down her dress shirt over her dark slacks and smiled at him.

"When will you ever learn, Youji?"

Ran glanced around the terminal, catching more than a few curious looks from the other travelers as they walked here and there -- all of them directed towards Ken.

I had no idea you enjoyed such notoriety...

Hmph. I dare a one of them to ridicule you...

"Well...We could drop off our bags at the hotel and go for a walk; maybe go some place quiet? Or...maybe go to a bookstore, if there are such places around here?"

"But, ah," he added, gesturing at the tickets in Ken's hand, "you ordered three seats. Does that mean that...Savil is coming with us?"

Ken blinked and regarded the tickets he was holding, then Ran.

Even if you have opened up... you're still kinda hard to read...

Sometimes.

Like NOW.

So how should he answer, how should he shade his voice? The ticket for the lone seat seemed wet in his hand.

He decided, beyond his suspicions on unruffled and conversational. So as they started from the terminal (and said tickets had ended up in one of his bag, between two folded pairs of jeans where they weren't too likely to be bent) "Yes, I was going to take Savil home since she's from Valdemar. And yes, there are plenty of bookstores here if you like, and lots of places to go for walks, so whatever you want, if that includes starting your library."

A little sigh as he reclaimed on of his boyfriend's hands. "Or transferring our herald to business class. I shoulda asked her first... shouldn't I? Damnit. Oh well."

What can I say, you make me too happy. And I get impulsive when I'm happy and... who am I kidding, I'm impulsive in my sleep!

He shrugged a little.

Ran retained his hold on Ken's hand, but he was careful not to look him in the eye. Simply stared ahead as they walked along, cursing every hapless soul who happened to glance his way with the intensity of his anger.

It was true. Savil was coming with them. Savil would be staying in Valdemar.

And where she went, Schuldich was sure to follow.

Ran released Ken's hand and threaded it through his bent elbow instead; all the better to clench his own hands into fists.

"Don't worry about it, Ken," he began in a tone so neutral that it surprised even him. "You bought the ticket, and she is your herald. I suppose she has to go everywhere you go."

But she will not come into my head anymore without my permission. She will not intrude upon my life!

I will NOT accept that creature as my herald!

"Anyway...I don't have a preference really what we do or where we go, so why don't you choose? You know The Planet better than I do."

Ken found himself charmed rather by the fact his beloved tugged him closer by binding their arms. And yet he was somewhat puzzled by the drop in his tone.

Well, he hadda come down some how.

And he doesn't like kids so...

Well, that's me, popping my foot straight in my mouth...

And yet he didn't seem to mind her yesterday, not too much. He was alone with her all that time... and he was fine but then again...

Aw shit. It's me, isn't it?

Well, what did you THINK Ken? Like Savil could piss anyone off... weird little girl... but not I mean... bad. It's you, and it's gonna be you and...

SHUT UP YOU!

"Well, not everywhere," he remarked with a droll little lilt in his words, and promptly tugged Ran behind a pillar, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "She's not here now to see me do that... or this."

A moment holding his lips to the soft white neck.

You smell so nice.

"Or buy you some books!" He swept his hand out then before a pair of great brass doors fitted with small panes of glass... not that their type mattered much at all, for they were barred open and within them stood shelf upon shelf of books, stretching back over a floor though... that distinctly resembled that of a grocery store.

"Well, why cook when you can read?"

The sign over the door read "Midgaard Groceries" though "Groceries" had been crossed out with black paint and "Books" added.

"Why indeed?"

One look, and Ran forgot about his chief tormentor, forgot about the creature. Awe lit up his face, and his hands uncurled from their fists to dangle at his sides. So preoccupied was he with the vision before him that he didn't even notice the thin, bloody crescents that he had dug into his palms with his nails.

He was, after all, standing at the gates of paradise.

At last, he looked over at Ken, giving him the smallest of gentle smiles.

"I believe you've just shown me the best place in all of The Planet."

"Awww..." Ken flushed and pattered up to stand beside his boyfriend, patting his back to re-assert the fact they were in fact boyfriends. After all, he couldn't see anyone nearly as cute as Ran anywhere in among the shelves.

But who says bookworms aren't adorable? Mine is!

"...y'know, I'm sorry I didn't bring you here sooner. I just didn't think of it. I'm a callous bastard. But to make up for it..."

A little push, and a faintly hurt Ran glanced back at him puzzled. He waved, and motioned once again for him to be off. "Well, go on now! Buy whatever you like. The rare and used books are in the back, if you're interested and no, it's NOT all gay erotica."

Blushing slightly over Ken's specific mention of gay erotica, Ran entered the shop, casting a look back at his still smiling, waving lover one last time before heading off to explore the countless shelves. The store smelled of dust and patchouli, the latter cast from the dozens of grass green candles the shopkeeper had scattered around the register counter.

He glided from one shelf to another until he landed upon the mystery section. Chandler, Christie, Doyle. Contemporary to Classic. Ran loved them all, and he wasn't disappointed in what the shop had to offer.

And so Ran browsed, thumbing through tome after tome and making his selections, all the while wondering why his lover didn't accompany him into the shop.

Crawford figured he was a bit old-fashioned, wanting to dine out and go for a stroll in The Planet's botanical garden (even though he knew he'd have to dodge lovers at nearly every turn), and he didn't really blame Schuldich for begging off. Didn't really mind it either, frankly. Time apart was a necessity with them as much as it was with any other couple.

And oh, how he relished it.

A porterhouse steak (well-done), baked potato and a caesar's salad for lunch, with a nicely chilled bottle of Veuve Cliquot to drink. A pair of violinists supplied the background music that day, much to his delight. Crawford sat back and sipped and ate and watched the swans glide back and forth across the sun-sparkled pond which lay just a little ways off from the cafe.

I never thought I'd find myself here. Not just here, in Terra, but here at this point in my life.

I have money. I have a nice home, and nice things, and no one can hurt me because I am different.

It's amazing I'm still alive.

Especially when my parents, when they did have me under their thumbs, tried their best to prevent me from getting to this point. From getting to any point at all, save for dead and buried and forgotten.

He stabbed at a bite of his steak and regarded it pensively for a second or two before slipping the fork into his mouth.

Starved me, beat me, cut me, locked me out on the coldest nights -- you two tried it all. Tried and failed. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live just to spite you, and I did.

And now I'm a king -- me, the unwanted freak.

And you are nothing but dust and bones...

Crawford lifted the delicate crystal flute up, as if in a toast.

So here's to you, Mom and Dad.

He elegantly sipped then at the beautifully bubbling, golden champagne, a tiny smile playing over his lips.

"Yes, that one." Ken tapped his foot impatiently and folded his hands up with his arms to keep from having to wave at the ever so irritating lad waiting on him one more time.

Speaking of which, he returned from the cases of his wears, the selected item in hand, brandished almost. "This one?"

"Yes! For the last time, that one!"

The child seemed horrified and clutched it to his chest. "But... you just want me to up and strip it! It's so perfect!"

"Not for me it's not."

"I-I-I..."

"If you don't do it, I might take care of it myself."

I wouldn't be so mad if there wasn't a line and...

Oh now he's sobbing.

Ken's ire deflated and fluttered away. He reached over the counter and patted the slip shoulders quite gingerly and without a touch of the slightest romantic interest. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen, how come?"

"Let me put it this way. What's perfect for one person, isn't perfect for another, alright? Now can I please have it stripped? If it isn't it won't be just right for me, OK?"

"Well..."

"Please." One more complaint and I think I will fall on my knees and beg. Not THAT'S a scene.

"Fine."

Schuldich sat back and pondered his montage. The papers seemed to be catching in some wind as the candle flames bobbed this way and that, provocation for this or not. He added one more sketched trickle of blood to one of them.

Well, it's not like I'm surprised. I knew all along but hey... I'm pretty good for not ever having seen him like this...

Covering the desk before him were exactly seventeen pictures of Aya in various stages of undress. Various if the implements of bondage counted as clothing. Or the effigies of swollen members that breached his precious, darling ass. The clamps upon his nipples, the artful whip-wheels on his back.

The cum spattered on his face.

Not so straight laced are you my boy? Not in my world...

He had drawn himself into only one of the images -- one that as it turned out, stood out not for being graphic, (being accustomed to the endless flow of thoughts that seeped through his mind, he had no qualms depicting the human body and all of its most tempting anatomical quirks. Body thought/thoughts body. All were pleasantly depraved!) but for it's implied tenderness. The two of them sat, laps intertwined, and he cradled the Weiss boy's head to his shoulder, stroking the tears from his face.

Still smirking, of course. He never drew himself with any other expression.

There was also one of poor Aya pounding into Aya-CHAN.

Why not?

And one somewhat vague one of Aya and Omi. Or something bloody that somewhat resembled Omi.

Really, I'm sure Sade would be proud.

Actually, Schuldich hated Sade, he though the man had a boring sense of the perverse.

Not that it mattered, Sade was dead. Sacher-Masoch as well. Pauline Reage (probably). Thomas Mann.

A lot of people were dead and he rued that he could not taste them. But just for a split second, as he took one candle down and set it's dripping body in the center of his naked Ayas, all of which had already begun to bore him.

And show their flaws, one by one, like black stars winking drugged across the papers.

The first one he lit was that of Aya and his sister. She burned beautifully and with a verdigris flame. So did he. The only kin of their lines was the body of the paper. One by one the other's followed. Saffie, Crawford, Omi, Aya, Aya, Aya!

Oh yes, Bradley. We would have Monet's on our walls. Vermeer's! and Delacroix? Of course. Titian's, Rembrandt's and Hagios... if it wasn't for me.

I hate pictures.

To the one remaining image, he and the morbid child of Kritiker.

I hate mine most of all.

Ran stepped out into the waning afternoon, brown paper wrapped books tucked under one arm, and drew a deep breath of clean, violet-scented air.

I never thought I'd be so glad to smell violets...

But that patchouli. Talk about overkill.

Ran stood on the sidewalk just outside, looking this way and that for Ken, but caught no sight of him.

Where could he be?

Did he have to go do something?

If so...Why all the secrecy?

Frowning, Ran decided to stroll down the side alley of shops in the hopes of coming across his lover -- or at least to kill a little time until he had concluded whatever business he needed to conduct without him.

The little clamshell box pressed into his hip with every step, reminding him of his beloved's generosity. But Ran wasn't reminded of exactly what was inside the box until he came upon a quirky little boutique with naked green and yellow mannequins in the windows.

Mannequins and a handmade sign which said, "Ear piercing done on the premises."

Ran took a quick look around him to see if the coast was clear, and then he quickly ducked through the blue Christmas light-strewn doorway, pulling his earring box out as he went.

Youji was utterly taken aback -- not just because she knew his name, but because she was dressed exactly like Asuka. Even knew what she used to say to him and how she used to say it. Teasing and wry.

He felt his heart crack just the tiniest bit, the way it always did when he thought of her.

"Who -- " he began, scowling as he stepped from the shadow of the soda machine for a better look. For a chance to confirm the notion that his mind had put forth: That he had seen her before.

And, as he took a step closer, he realized that he had.

"You were at the teahouse."

Savil nodded, still simpering, head cocked the way Asuka always held hers when she smiled.

Youji suddenly went very cold, as if his blood had completely frozen. Nevertheless, he drew himself up to his full height and shoved his hands into his pockets, glaring.

"I don't know who you are, or how you know me, little girl, but I don't appreciate your joke. Not one fucking bit."

He looked her up and down, then glanced around the lobby, half-expecting to see some harried woman running across the room to reclaim her little darling. Of course, the lobby was empty. Not even a clerk.

This is too unnerving...

What the hell is going on?

He glanced down at the little girl again, then started to walk off towards the elevators.

"I don't know where your mother is, kid, but I suggest you find her. I don't have time to play with you now."

Savil, brows furrowed, hung a moment in her shady hide away, finally pulling out of it with an almost jerky motion.

"Mother? I haven't got a mother." And then with a little stamp of her foot, for she had not been acknowledged with words... "And why would I play a joke on you? I didn't come here for that. I came here because I'm afraid of you."

That stopped him.

Am I a sadist? No, I really am afraid.

I hate being afraid.

When I can be afraid. Have I even?

I have a brother who's not afraid of anything, I have a reputation to live up to...

And she let her voice crack, just a bit. "Yes, I'm scared stupid of you! And I'm tired of being afraid. So be mad at me for coming dressed up like someone I knew you wouldn't hurt."

Not on purpose.

Or would you?

Hmm...?

Youji let out a nervous, hiccuping laugh at that, and thus ruined his I'm-in-control appearance -- a guise which crumbled completely because of the tearful rasp to his voice when next he spoke.

"Someone I wouldn't hurt, hm? Kid, you don't know anything."

I don't want to remember that night! I don't! I want to remember her as she was to me before, when she was Asuka.

My Asuka...

He took a step back from her, never once taking his eyes off of her, almost as if he were afraid to look away.

But I am afraid of her.

She's a KID, Youji!

No, no. I don't think she is just a kid.

No, she's not and this is too creepy, even for a seasoned pro like me.

"Look, whoever you are, I don't know why you're scared of me, and I don't care. I don't know you, and I don't think want to know you, so go away, and leave me alone. I've got someone waiting for me upstairs, and I don't have time for any more of your games."

With that, he turned away, and headed off once more for the elevators.

"Wait!" There had been several interminable seconds between her mental hails and that shout. Even telepaths have bad habits. Youji had such pretty dark green eyes. Green, yes, but not like any she remembered, done no justice by her first fleeting glimpse or the memories she had been treated to by her sibling.

He did not wait though.

"Why should you be afraid of me. That's my job for you. I am just a little girl. Do your eyes tell you different?"

She wanted him to look at her again. Youji, almost as pretty as Aya, like a big bouquet of nightshade. Slicing her sanity, breaking apart what composure had been bequeathed to her by her peculiarities.

Could it be? Me? Who has never been so? Or is it that... She licked her lips. I like it that you're so afraid of me?

I don't know... but that would explain why I'm here

"Well if you don't look at me, how can you know? Are you just going to run away? You can, if you want. Doesn't matter to me."

Her foot ground against the steps as his finger hit the up button for the elevator, and she leaned forward, one lock of hair falling loose from her hat and brushing against him.

He shook. Hadn't heard her. Some assassin.

"Here, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. Don'tcha think Omi wants to know how his friends are? I know you do."

THAT got his attention. Youji jerked his head in her direction, recoiling in response to her close proximity. He vigorously rubbed his hand where her lock of hair had tickled him.

"What do you mean by that? How could you possibly know where Aya and Ken are?"

"For that matter, how do you know who OMI is?!"

Their eyes locked together and held. The elevator chimed brightly upon arriving, and, the moment the doors opened, Youji climbed on, dragging her with him. He held on to her arm until the doors were firmly shut.

"All right. I am taking you to my room, and you are going to tell Omi and me where Aya and Ken are, and if they are okay. But there is no way that I'm going to believe you're nothing more than a child, so first, you are going to tell me WHO you are and WHERE you are from!"

Saffie didn't shake. She'd never = shivered, except from cold. Being skinny and all, that did bother her. But her heart began to pound, and her eyes grew so wide they burned and then her fingers were numb. Very numb.

I was right. I've never been so afraid... ever!

I can taste everything you're thinking you'd like to do to me.

I can see her, Asuka.

I can see you and I'm so bloody scared!

She smiled, just softly, let him holder her arm and drive his fingerprints into it.

Yes, I think I kinda...

almost...

... like it...

Ah, but then again, I can sense it from you too... and that just makes it better.

Oddly enough, she felt closer to Youji at the moment than if she had hovered around him for all of her life she could remember. People really were more flavorful in person.

But she played up her part, and stammered appropriately. Though no real girl short of her wits would have held that hot gaze.

"M-m-my name is Sapphire Marlow. I'm f-from Chicago. You don't' b-believe me do you? Aya's like that..."

"Chicago, huh? Hmpf. I don't know about Aya, but I know for a fact that Ken has never been to Chicago. He told me once he'd never traveled outside of Japan."

But yet...you say Aya doesn't believe you, and that's so like him...

But how do I know you aren't some decoy? That they haven't been kidnapped and/or killed?

Man, I wouldn't put anything past Estet.

Youji jammed both hands in his pockets, studying her, on the verge of asking yet another question. But then, just at that moment, the doors parted with a swoosh, and he hastily jerked one hand out and grabbed her arm again. "Come on."

He dragged Savil down the empty hallway to his and Omi's room, and laid the key in the lock. Swung it open and pulled her inside.

Omi finally sighed under the jets of hot water that were pounding him. Youji had come in. At last. His nerves stopped sparking. His breath stopped heaving. He still hurt a little...

But then he heard a high little voice he was quite sure he did not know.

"Yes, b-b-but I've been out of the country and awful lot! That's what's I'm doing here now!"

Wait a second... that's... a girl's voice.

A very little girl's voice.

He slammed off the showerhead, snatched up a robed without bothering to dry himself and headed, soaked into the bedroom where he found his lover hovering over a blond girl who was rather small indeed and very oddly dressed, not to mention not presently in possession of her left arm, which Youji had quite a grip on.

"Youji-kun! What's going on?" he asked with a blink.

You look angry... she a pick pocket or what? Goodness... something isn't right here at all.

And thinking of the tears he had washed down the drain. Yes... not right at all but... the girl first.

But she turned to him, and with a small wave and even smaller smile. "Hi, Omi. How are you today?"

"Umm..." taking a moment to straighten his robe, self-conscious as he had been the day before, mobbed by fleeing groupies... "I'm fine. Who are you?"

"Friend of Ken's. Uh... I see you don't believe me either."

Omi didn't believe a thing at that moment, though if the sky had gone paisley print and become inhabited by pink geese, he would not have been surprised. His knees gave out though, and he sank to the floor, shaking himself.

"There you go again with that 'I'm a friend of...' Oi! Omi!"

Youji released Sapphire at once and promptly forgot all about her. He sank down on the floor in front of Omi, and caught him up in his arms.

"What's wrong, Omi? Are you sick?" he asked, slipping one finger under his chin and tilting his head up a little, so to better see his face.

And then Youji's own face fell when he saw the telltale rawness of his eyes.

"...You've been crying. Aw, Omi, did I do something wrong?"

"No no... I'm alright." Omi breathed, his head bobbing back and forth as he shook it. "Really... s-stop it. I'll be fine." But his arms fell around his lover's just the same...

As for Savil, she found herself in the middle of a very interesting dilemma.

Common sense dictates that at this point, I make use of the door and run like hell.

Speaking of the door, she cast it a pondering glance and combed some of her hair back under her hat.

My being a telepath tells me I should stand here quietly and enjoy myself. For there sadness, oh! Like sugar cherry water rain running like liquid candy down her id!

Being a herald tells me I should offer them help, though, once again, common sense at this point intrudes and I know for a fact they wouldn't take it.

And why are you whispering? I can hear you plain as day without reading your minds.

Well... I guess that leaves, what do I want to do?

A quick glance to her watch, and... she gulped.

I'm going to be late to walk the dog! Oh damnit!

But I so wanted to be interrogated! Maybe another time... sigh.

"Umm... ja, minna!" And dove for the door.

From the corner of his eye, Youji caught the pale blonde streak she made as she dashed for the door, and, as carefully as possible, he extricated himself from Omi's embrace with a hissed, "Damn it! Hang on."

He was up and out and on her before she'd even gotten five steps away from the door. Youji hooked her around the waist and carried her back inside. All the locks on the door were thrown shut before he carted her over to the bed, and sat her down on the farthest edge of it.

"Now you stay there, kid! I am NOT through talking to you yet."

With a warning look, he went back to Omi then, and helped him to his feet and onto the bed as well. He himself remained standing along side of it, ready to pounce on Sapphire again should she attempt another escape.

"Now. How did you meet Aya and Ken?"

I got carted around by You~ji! Oooh! Lucky me! Schu-baby will be soooooo jealous. She did pout though, still not exactly from having been cut off on her journey back to her beloved Farfie-chan, but from the fact she wasn't feeling particularly frightened any longer. Youji had such soft arms, even if he wasn't very gentle. Still she played the part and clapped her knees together, trying to look demur.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I won't try to run away again."

Omi rubbed his eyes again and studied her, and it was he she cast her eyes to as she spoke, while the pins of her brain poked at his lover.

Ah, he's pretty cute in person. Kinda lemony. Sugar baby and...

And then her tone really did drop, and he gaze narrow as if in contemplation, for her vision filled with that the younger of the two assassins -- what refused to let himself see. What her brother had pointed out she might see for herself, feel for herself like a drowning caress, should she ever draw near enough to see the reaches of the photographs herself, moving with the wind and not the unsteady nature of human hands.

I don't suppose you mean to tell HIM any of this... Mamoru? But still, she talked, and fingered Mr. Koudou instead, because playing along was more irresistible than the darkest memories of the brightest boys.

"Well, I did see the two of you at the teahouse, which is how come I know your names. I don't work for Estet, or Kritiker, but I have been there already. And it's not as if anyone works for Estet anymore, they are pretty much trashed, so they didn't send me. I sent myself."

"Sent yourself?" Omi wondered, shaking his head.

"Well, Aya and Ken wanted to know how you were, but you know them! They didn't ask at all! So I came here to check up on you for them and no, I can't prove it."

Before Youji had drawn his breath, she answered him, "I am still afraid of you." Her head dropped to her chest. "I-I really am sorry about this."

A half-hearted tug at her shirt.

"We all get pretty irrational when we're anxious."

Youji's eyes narrowed ominously at her last remark. "Irrational, am I? Little wonder that I am, don't you think?"

"You show up out of nowhere, dressed like -- and acting like -- my long dead partner, and I'm supposed to believe you mean no harm simply because you're a child."

"Something tells me I should just kill you and get Omi and get the hell out of here."

But then...I would become the monster I always feared I'd become.

Even though...I sometimes wonder if I already have.

"But...I won't. I'll let you live, little monster. And in exchange..." Youji crossed over to where she was sitting. "You will tell us where Aya and Ken are, and if they are alive and well."

MONSTER!? Oh! Not merely a monster! I am an imp! There's a difference.

Not that you care...

Too consumed with your own insecurities. I see you are both and you are neither! Be happy.

"Youji!" Omi however protested before she had a chance to correct his unintentional misnomer. "I think you're over reacting. J-just a little."

Oh! You say that like you mean it but I think, and I do, that you're an amazing little liar.

The chill gin of his thoughts, palpable or not to the younger assassin, more than blossomed with the considerations of just how little.

Saffie, ruing ever second that her rush returned, quailed and cocked on of her fists before her mouth.

To hide her smile as she wavered between some semblance of herself and the mask of a woman she had in all seriousness, never met.

Omi curled up with a groan. "Well..."

But otherwise, she unfolded herself like a praying mantis, casting her eyes back into the memories of Asuka, making a mimic of one night she had slept on the train, and uncurled herself just so. "Aya and Ken were just fine when I left them. As well as you could ever expect two lovers to be. But I can't tell you where they are. No no! Don't hurt me! Don't shout! If I tell you, I'd have to kill you and..."

A sweep of her hands over her diminutive stature. "Well, you can just imagine how absurd that would look, Sephiroth-sama. And don't go thinking I'm cocky!" Head down, she ashamedly folded her hands on her lap. "I've never been interrogated before."

She had mimicked her again and had done it perfectly, and, in the process, she had pushed Youji that much closer to the edge.

"You think all this is amusing, don't you?"

He seized Sapphire before he even realized what he was doing and gave her a little shake. "This isn't a game, so stop it! Stop taunting us!"

"Stop tormenting me!"

Youji released her then and recoiled from her in horror, pale of face. His eyes darted from her to Omi and back again.

Ch'kuso.

What am I doing? She's a child!

But she can't be...How could she know about Ken? She doesn't look the type to want to run about and get dirty on a soccer field.

And Aya can't stand children...

And she knows about Asuka. Someone...must have told her.

But...who?

He dropped his hand to his side and rubbed it idly over his denim-clad leg. "Don't threaten me, you little lying brat."

"Where are Ken and Aya? Who told you about her? Tell me!"

"Youji!" Omi whined suddenly, his arm snapping out and taking his lover's much in the way their uninvited guest had been snatched up. "Youji, stop it! You're scaring me! What are you talking about?"

"Asuka," Savil answered for him, gingerly popping her shoulder joint back into place.

The younger assassin sighed and shook his finger at her. "Please be quiet, Sapphire-chan."

"But that's what I did!"

"Shhh! I'll get back to you in a minute." Then with a sigh (or a pout from her station on the bed), he regarded his panting beloved. "I think you need to calm down! Right now!" And then fell off abruptly because the ice in his words surprised even him. "In the mean time..." much more calmly, feeling like an old wisdom in a robe of age rather than necessity, "What is going on? And I'm asking both of you. I don't know if I've hallucinated you both up but this is getting insane!"

A moment of silence for sanity.

"Well, I'm being a brat and I admit that." Saffie shrugged, being careful not to jerk her left hand as the woman she had assumed would have. "But I really have seen Ken and Aya. In fact, I played soccer with Ken yesterday. I do like to get dirty. But Aya doesn't at all, so he didn't join us. And then we all went on vacation together. Where did you think they'd gone off to? I'm sure Ken left some notes."

Do you know how absurd that sounds, little girl? Still, he shook his head and turned his attention back to his lover, feeling his hands begin to quiver with recognition and things left unsaid, gone to the air without leave.

Notes and vacations and Aya not playing soccer -- all those helpfully provided tidbits went virtually unnoticed by Youji, for he had picked up on something entirely different and disturbing.

"I...I didn't say anything about you not being fond of soccer and getting dirty -- not out loud! I didn't! You..."

"You...read my mind, didn't you?"

Just like...

"Schuldich."

To which she nodded in a pleased sort of way, simpering. Of course, her affirmation didn't make the situation any better for Youji. And...something else was bothering him too.

He turned to Omi and fixed him with a suspicious look. "You're awfully familiar with this brat. Care to tell me where you met her?"

"I..." Omi began, his voice cracking.

"He's never met me. He's just being Omi," Savil finished for him.

And as Omi he clutched at his head and groaned, tilting away and burying his mouth in his hands as he shook his head. "I can't... I can't deal with this. I just can't. How dare you!"

"You're scared. Be scared. I don't mind. Even though I came here because I was."

"Would you STOP THAT!"

She did and withdrew the hand that had been heading for his shoulder, instead offering it to Youji with a wry little grin, knowing full well he would refuse it. And did, getting to his feet and shaking his head.

"Ken and Aya are fine, really. They've gone away for awhile. I'm their friend, even if you don't want to believe me. I came here to prove to them you were alright, and to prove to myself that I could stand in the same room with the great Sephiroth."

::Yes, Youji. There's a telepath who's scared to death of you, it's me. Are you happy? Have you had your revenge?::

But just the same, civil as a summer's day. "Do you want me to take them a letter? I wouldn't mind..."

Am I happy that you're scared of me? Why yes, you brat. I'm fucking delighted.

He gave her a malicious smile, then turned to Omi and began to pet his hair in apology.

"While I would like to communicate with them, just to know that they ARE all right, and to let them know that we are too, I am NOT going to give you a letter. How do I even know you'd give it to them?"

"And frankly, I don't think you would."

"But that's my opinion, not Omi's."

Youji bent and kissed his lover on the top of his head, and wrapped an arm around him.

"But if he says no, then I will thank you to get the hell out of here. You have caused us enough trouble."

You really don't care for them as much as you'd think. Or at least, you hate me more than you care for them. What a sad, sad man you are Koudou Youji called Sephiroth.

Omi too!

Speaking of Omi, he sat resolute and distant under the kind arms, flushing acutely.

So you can read my mind, can't you? You can see me?

::Peekaboo!::

He smiled to her, sardonically. And ran if over and over in his mind. He wanted her to go, because she hung like a formless light aura of pain over his lover, but he wanted her to stay forever and a day, as mere supposition that Aya and Ken had indeed existed. He could see himself walking with her, over the same field where he had taken Youji, and she would be Aya and she would be Ken and then somehow, it would all be like being together again.

I'm uncertain of you, more than I have ever been... of anyone! And yet I...

Who do I love more? Is that what you're going to try to make out of this, Sapphire-chan?

No answer.

So it all comes down to me. What do I want?

And how many unanswered questions can I live with?

Before he had even finished the thought, she presented him with the pad of hotel stationary and a pen.

"Just a short one," he assured someone. She hovered about him, anything but still as he wrote. And it didn't matter, since she would already know everything he put down.

"I give you my word it'll get to them." A titter, the tearing of the leaf of paper as he passed it to her, only to have it regarded rather unhappily and passed to Youji. "You sign it too."

Grumbling, he did so. She folded it up and popped it in the pocket over the small jiggle of her left breast.

"Don't have to tell me twice now." But Saffie before she left, took a moment to replace the pad of paper, scratching on it. [Youji -- Ken has a library book that needs returned. It's under his bed. Get Omi some help! You know not what you do.]

"Well, been nice meeting you!"

Been even nicer knowing you'll let me go.

"I'm off to walk my dog and mind Orpheus and Eurydiche. Domo arigatou gozaimasu! And Sayonara!"

Then the door closed behind her and a ripple of song was all she left behind.

Violet serene
Like none I have set
Apart from dreams
That escape me.
There was no girl as warm as you.

How I've learned to please,
To doubt myself in need.
You'll never,
You'll never know.
You'll never know.

That summer fields grow high.
We had wildflower fever.
We had to lay down where they grow.
How I've learned to hide,
How I've locked inside,
You'd be surprised if shown.
But you'll never,
You'll never know.

You're wrong, kid, Youji thought at her after she had gone, not really caring if she'd heard him or not, I do care about them. You DON'T know everything.

And if I see that Schuldich again, I will kill him just for the hell of it.

And I might just kill you too, you goddamn -- !

He drew a cigarette out the pack in his duffel and went to light it, but ended up crumbling it to dust and tossing it onto the floor. Longed to throw his lighter at the mirror, but held off for fear of upsetting Omi any further -- if such a thing was possible.

"So much for a peaceful vacation."

I want to run and run and run, but it wouldn't do any good, would it?

Youji threaded his fingers through his hair, lacing them across the back of his head, and paced restlessly around the room. Tried to shut out everything and simply think, but it wasn't happening. His emotions were twisting inside him like a whirlwind, and he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

And Savil's parting shot, noticed at last when Youji happened to glance down on the dresser as he passed it for the sixth time, didn't do anything to calm him.

So he threw the lighter anyway -- but at the wall, where it merely dented the wallpaper and zipped across the carpet. He watched it glint in the thin streak of sunlight from the crack in the curtains, all puffed up with smug satisfaction -- a feeling which deflated the moment he looked at Omi and caught sight of his horrified expression.

A few more moments of tense silence and a much ashamed Youji hesitantly held the crumpled note out for Omi to see.

"She says you need help," he said quietly.

"...Do you?"

Omi sighed and flopped over against the pillows, his knees still awfully close to this chest, regardless of the odd angle he had taken. He regarded Youji for a long while, tongue brushing his lips in thought.

The edges of them are soft, can't you see?

I'm not mad at you.

I'm not afraid and I...

"No... of course not. I'll live."

I always do.

And then, to do away with scrutiny and vaporous musings of just how disingenuous he might have been. Because after all, maybe I can't read your mind. But there are other things.

"Well, maybe not fine? I'm an assassin, aren't I? How can I be fine. If anything, and I know this is just... just too strange. But I feel... so much better now."

Closing his eyes, he smiled against his pillow, rubbed it with his cheek.

"How else am I supposed to get by? I told you when I said I loved you. This is just who I am, what I'm used to. Being in danger. Being the bad guy. Pretending. Even if it hurts. And it does.."

He reached up then, blind, but still finding his lover's hand, and tugging him down to sit on the edge of the bed like a nurse or a troubadour sent to an ailing princess.

"But I have you, and we've dealt with worse informants. Haven't we? It's not so bad."

"I feel like I could reach out and touch them now, just like I'm touching you. I just can't comfort them. But they're Aya and Ken."

"You know what?"

"They get by too."

With that, Saffie Marlow ceased to hear the words of Omi and his lover -- those real and those left unsaid. She left for the second time by means of her feet, pondering her camera and the curious place between elation and pure terror that Kuudou Youji had made for himself in her heart.

Like and angel. Like a killer. Like a lover and other things she suppose she would never meet.

But no matter. She was already late to walk her dog, and so hurried home.

There's nothing like having a cigarette in the midst of a ivy garden.

Hmm. Reminds me of England...

Crawford inhaled deeply on the half-spent clove stick in his mouth, and brushed a bit of fallen ash from the front of his shirt. Reached out and ran his fingers over the surface of a large, particularly glossy leaf in idle wonder.

Idle, slightly inebriated wonder. A pleasant, fuzzy sort of drunk which made him want to start singing. So he did -- softly.

"Dark in the city, night is a wire. Steam in the subway, Earth is afire."

"Doo-de-doo-doo-de-doo-doo-de-doo-doooo."

A pair of giggling boys stepped out of the end of the boxwood maze hand-in-hand, and promptly turned back around upon seeing Crawford, much more subdued upon finding their favorite trysting place so occupied.

Not that he even noticed their entrance or departure. He was too busy chuckling.

Hopefully, we'll be leaving on the morrow for Valdemar.

If not sooner...

But then, the sooner we leave, the sooner Schuldich will have something else other than my ass with which to entertain himself.

Not that I'm really complaining about that -- but sex can only go so far. Even if, if I do say so myself, the sex is fantastic.

Utterly fantastic.

He raked his hair back from his forehead.

I wonder if the hotel is still standing...

The burned-down nub landed on the moss edged stone under Crawford's feet and he drew another stick out. Lit it, and glanced around at the multitude of wind-tossed, leaf-starred tendrils.

Admired the sun-drenched blue sky.

Contemplatively listened to the cheerful, chiming song of a wren.

Then he pushed at the bridge of his glasses and sighed.

Okay. I've had enough now. Nature break is over.

With one last perfectly formed smoke ring, Crawford spun on his heel and headed for the maze's entrance.

Ken scooted his bags down on his arms and clasped his silly little present for Ran between his hands as if he was an effigy of some saint, who an old woman had pressed a dried flower through the fingers of.

He'll be mad, won't he?

But I couldn't help it. I couldn't. I couldn't live with myself otherwise.

Back into the bookstore, where the clerk flashed him a wink. Carrying around a present like that... no one could mistake him for anything besides a lover. Albeit a coughing lover. Stupid patchouli. Since the rows of books still stood in parallel lines, it took him but a moment to cross them, and he called not once, not even softly. His sweetheart was too pretty to miss.

And then, as he reached the end and found himself in the hard-core smut section (because legitimate establishment or not, they had one) he wondered if someone else had discovered his white and crimson beauty.

"Ran?"

Now where on earth could he be? Terra... damn, not again. Anyway, it's not like Ran to run off.

Now Aya...

A rather long montage of mission-related memories flashed past his mind -- a slow motion picture show of Aya in all his glory.

I'll be damned, I think Ran is cuter... how can that be? O.o?

But no Ran remained within the confines of the bookstore. Even when he checked it over twice. Considered a third.

"Oh," the clerk began, "You Hidaka Ken?"

Raising a displeased eyebrow, he did turn to the fellow.

"You are? Sweet, dude! Major copasetic revolution there. Can't wait to hear what you do with the Villa in Valdemar."

"Sure..." A fibbed smile snapped across his face... or perhaps a smirk because he knew all about what had not yet been written.

But would be. He was so certain...

"And a sweet little piece of ass too! When you gonna sign your papers? He'll look so bitchin' with a collar on." Clapping.

"Ran? Umm..." He shuffled his foot and looked to the floor. Yeah, you just look at me, I'm no dominator. I'm not even a very good regular boyfriend. "You see where he went?"

"Yeah, out."

"I see... thanks." Without another word, he stepped into the hall and with grave disappointment found no shops nearby he could picture Ran in at all.

Some boyfriend indeed!

And just at that moment, Ran stepped out of the boutique, two more piercings to the good in his previously virgin right earlobe. The clerk had gushed to the point of embarrassment over how wonderful the rubies set off his pale skin, and picked up the darker shades of his hair, but Ran had listened to it all with the air of a stoic. Privately, though, he wondered if Ken would think the same thing.

And now, it seemed he was about to find out.

As quietly as if he were sneaking up on a target, Ran crept up behind Ken, and hovered there until the brunet looked his way again. They hung that way for a few wondering moments, the one shyly returning the other's smile.

"I didn't see you when I came out, so I thought I'd do a little exploring. I found quite a few books. Enough to last me for awhile," he said, tapping on the edge of the tightly wrapped parcel. "I...uh...Thanks for treating me."

"And it seems you've found something too," he added, nodded at the object in his boyfriend's hands. "Are you going to show me what it is? Or are you going to keep it a secret?"

"Not anymore..." Ken offered softly. "It's for you." Holding out his odd little spire bundle, he started to peel away the cellophane his overly-adamant little clerk had insisted in swathing the gift in. Pink and purple and down to blue that cast itself back to the surface of his present for Ran.

One white rose, stripped of its thorns.

"A rose. A white rose."

Ran reached out to touch it as if he'd never seen a rose in his entire life -- edged the velvety, peppermint-white petal with his fingertips; gingerly petted the stem as if its nakedness was an illusion, and that any moment he would be pricked. He even extended his exploration to the crinkling cellophane, briefly, before taking the blossom for his lover's hands.

But to him, it wasn't just a rose. It represented the reason why he was there now, with Ken, for it was because of a flower, that he had gone off with Ken in the first place.

And also, to him it represented Aya.

And that was why, when Ran finally tore his eyes away from his gift to look at him, those twin amethystine orbs were plainly glossed with unshed tears.

"...Arigatou, Ken."

"Aw, Sweetheart," Ken flushed and sniffled loudly. "You're welcome. I owed you one, after all. Don't get all... ah... I mean..." stealing one glance around, he finally reached up and brushed his finger tips to Ran's lashes. "Go ahead and do whatever you want. I just wasn't expecting... that you'd..."

There you go again, being your usual idiot self.

His hands then made their way about his cheeks and up his temples. Felt him rocking against his fingers as he smoothed one of his eartails back behind.

And then it was Ken's turn to be still and dumbfounded by tenderness. The two rubies giggled at him with fragments of light. They mocked the blueness of his own eyes, hid in the scarlet of Ran's floos.

"You... you... you didn't!" A thrilled little chuckle, one laced with a profound and muted twinge of guilt. He turned one of the studs where it stood pinned in his beloved's flesh, and from it crept a single drip of blood, which he bent and kissed away, thinking of Snow White.

Ran didn't cry -- merely blinked until the lingering drops in his reddened eyes flowed away onto his lids and lashes, where he sopped them up with his fingers.

"Gomen, Ken. I..." He dropped his gaze down to the flower in his hand, and lifted it to his nose instead, delicately inhaling its sweet fragrance. Then he held it to his chest, and hoisted his double burden of books and clothing a bit more securely in his arms.

"I'm glad you like the earrings. I'm glad you bought them for me."

"I'm glad..." He reached out and brushed the flower down Ken's cheek, smiling softly just for him.

"Let's go back to the hotel, and drop off our things, and go for a walk somewhere. I feel a sudden urgent need to admire you by moonlight."

There you go, being sorry again...

Ken leaned over and scooped up Ran's books for him, so he carried but the rose and his books and Ken... well, Ken looked like an overworked and poorly dressed bellhop. "You said you wanted to go moonbathing, after all. Well, nice thing about Terra, is you can do that before it ever gets the whole way dark. Shall we?"

But before he started off, he leaned over for a little taste of Ran's nose, one that reminded him faintly of the rose that had so recently brushed it. "I'm glad too."

They started back to the hotel then -- quite the walk as far as they had wandered, especially to the back entrance. The light had not come yet -- that which emanated form everywhere and nowhere, so the softest caress of dimness took the main hall, and the lover's there while the herald's flashed like birds, the blushes of everyone tinted a faint, faerie purple, including Ken, who wasn't sure how he felt about being admired.

"Can I ask what you got to read?" he felt he needed to speak, not just to dull the impending ache of climbing the back stairs, but to hear an answer, be somewhat polite. Be some kind of a lover. "Or is it a secret?"

To Ran, the stairs weren't a problem; having Ken carry every one of their bags, however, was. Once they had reached the first landing, he stopped him and took more than half the bags from him without a word, and giving him the bundle of books to carry in their stead. The rose he held up and apart from himself, as if it were a candle to guide their way.

"Well...I got a little of everything. Um...Li Po, Bram Stoker, Issa, Chiyo-Ni, Dogen, Constantine, and...Chandler."

Coward...

"And...uh...one or two others..." he added, muttering and not quite meeting Ken's eyes.

Actually, I also bought an anthology of gay erotica, Ken! Maybe I'll strip off all my clothes and read it to you after dinner!

Yeah, right...

Ah, maybe I shouldn't have bought the damn thing. I was embarrassed as hell when I went down that aisle, even. And then that clerk started ogling me when I came up to buy the books; smirked when he saw it.

How the hell am I going to keep it hidden from Ken? What will he do if he sees it?

Oh, fuck.

Damn my curiosity.

Ran threaded his arm through the bags' plastic handholds, and opened the door leading to their floor, propping it open with his foot to allow his boyfriend to pass ahead of him.

"After you."

"Why thank you!" Ken replied with a small titter, and a wondering glance that clung to his beloved. Ah, I think you did something else naughty while we were out. I don't blame you one bit.

I'm starting to find that hey! You're pretty curious. And you should be.

Not that I'm any help.

"Or I'm not curious myself."

He pinned his lips closed, finding what he had been thinking so well whispered. Silence accompanied them as they slid into their room and dropped the bags about the floor, save for the books, which reverently found a home in one of the chairs as if they were a shivering dog who deserved the light of the fire, and the rose, which came to live on one of the nightstands in a the toothbrush holder from the bathroom. The bloom seemed perfectly at home in that space, more so than the black beast of the trunk, which seemed to be groaning.

Ken took a moment to splash off his face, and Ran one to dab at his ear. Then they left again.

And had not gotten halfway down their hall before something light and crinkly smacked them both across their necks. Ran lurched, Ken sighed.

Oh... goddamnit!

And then a voice, whose body remained shaded in the dim half-corridor of a janitor's closet.

"Who are you and why have you come to the Mythril mines? Do you work for Shin-ra? You smell of them, but you don't seem the type. Well, well, pretties?"

"No, we don't, Zack," Ken moaned.

Schuldich sat and admired the tiny heap of hot ashes that had gathered around his candle. But only for a moment. He put out the flame then and swept the them unceremoniously onto the floor.

No point in being neat if we won't be around tomorrow.

All the other candles met ends for their burning as he swept his hands before them on his way out. The door locked behind him, the bedroom remained vacant for he only passed through it on his way to the living room where a draft from the still missing windows assaulted him.

Oh, that's right. I'm still naked. And what do we have here? Seems my clothes are still in a heap over this way.

He tugged on his trousers then, all that was required to make him presentable, and rang up room service, whirling his scarf over his head as he made his demands of room service. A familiar groan greeted him.

"Oh, don't be such a bitch, Cait! It's only meeeeeeeeeee!"

"Yes, and we've all heard about the maintenance staff."

"So don't bother bragging? I don't feel like it one bit. What I feel like is a large box of reduced fat Cheez-its appearing on my door as fast as your little ass can arrange for it I..."

Someone knocked on the door.

Schuldich groaned dolorously, "You set this up ahead of time."

"Yes, you may be the telepath but I know your tastes. Does you boyfriend, however, know you've fun up over 300,000 yen worth of room service for junk food alone?" Giggling.

"Look, we obviously have a little misunderstanding here with regards to my eating habits. How about I come down there and blow you and we can forget ALLLLLL about it?"

Later...

Storming back into the room, Schuldich, still in only his low-cut dress pants, spit loudly into one of the potted ferns. "UGH! I deserve a Cheez-it after that! Many Cheez-its!"

Farfie, however, upon hearing the name of their mutual favorite snack food (the only thing they had in common, and still an annoyance) awoke from his afternoon slumber and began scratching at the patio doors. Not to mention whining, very, very loudly. His master dealt with this in stride, and being the only one home -- at least the only one home with any permission to enjoy their last day in suite twenty-four -- he assumed control of the well-disguised stereo. A chorus of indiscernible noises, some pretty and some merely shrill, wafted into the room bearing with them a chorus of light and throaty voices, thick as buttery syrup running down his ears, and Nagi's.

Nagi's groan could be made out above the din.

"Ah, Stevie, Stevie! Stevie! No one loves you but me any longer." This rued, he tore open the box of crackers, which one cocky little kitchen boy had taken the liberty to dress with a big, floppy, red bow, and crammed a handful into his mouth, getting orange crumbs all over the rug as he fired up his mostly neglected laptop.

He then began the obligatory plotting. First of all, a flight. Tomorrow, ten in the morning, five seats in first class. One cage in the back of the plane -- just in case. Five bottles of champagne. Extra two-thousand dollars for short notice.

Reiji, how I do love spending your money. Serves you right for that nasty bruise on my cheek. And for being stupid. No, that's unforgivable.

Then to see about accommodations. Surely, the Ashkevron Plaza would have to tolerate them for about a week. Ah, he could almost hear the reservation department's wailing thoughts the moment he entered his name onto their digital pre-registry. But oh! Why not have a place of their own for once? The Planet offered little save occasional apartments, what with it being the Japanese annex and all. But in Valdemar! Oh, Valdemar had mansions! Palaces! And no one was making offers on them.

That's because it may be the capitol but it's STILL the middle of nowhere.

His search: four bedrooms -- room with bondage hooks -- renovated/built within the last 20 years -- view -- close to the Hyacinth Villa

He printed out descriptions for five places that struck his fancy.

1) Small but secluded place on the edges of Gala Lake. Came with kitchen staff and a small boat.

2) Top floors of a string of townhouses. More or less a loft, ran for almost two blocks across the tops of town but had no partitions within

3) One of the guest houses around the villa had been unoccupied for some time. It didn't surprise him this happened to be the one closet to Carly's. Well, they could put up with that, if it wasn't too obvious in his boyfriend's mind.

4) House of a painter who had died with his lover. Built so it climbed up backwards, was more or less a tower. Might contain bodies. Nice!

5) And finally, his favorite. The empty shell of one of the few Christian churches that had ever existed on Terra. Had quarters intended for the priest, full alters, stained glass windows and Oh! A reliquary! He made sure to shuffle this in as if it was nothing special, though the fact he included it considering Farfarello's reaction to any and all things related to Jesus was in and of itself a questionable act.

By the time he had arranged them all across the tops of one of the tables, he found himself down to the crumbs of his crackers.

"Well, I've spoiled my dinner."

Fleetwood Mac still crashing in his ears, he leaned back and poured the last of the crumbs into his mouth.

Now this is the life... ahhhhhhh...

He ignored the faint mental touch of his lover and remained in the throes of his Cheez-its even as he opened the door. Well, it couldn't be called the most unflattering position he had ever been caught in.

Crawford's entrance was accompanied by a song about a Welsh witch and the jingling of his many keys. He shut and locked the door and leaned back against it to watch his shirtless lover avidly swallow down the last of his most beloved snack food.

Crawford's mouth went dry.

And I thought I was obsessed...

"I would ask what you've been doing while I was gone, but to do so seems rather pointless."

Crawford dropped his keys back into his pocket and himself down on the sofa, and snatched up the stereo's remote control before his lover could lay his hands on it. Once the music was reduced to a more tolerable volume, he made another attempt at conversation.

"You've been looking for a house I see." Crawford picked up the scattered pictures and shuffled them into a pile, only to re-scatter them over the table as he sorted through them.

"A two-block long loft? Hmmm. Sounds interesting, except having no partitions wouldn't work out. The lack of privacy would be a problem."

Okay, so we don't have any privacy now, but at least we have the semblance of it.

And I would rather not have sex with you in front of your sister.

I don't care if she already knows.

The guest house close to Carly's was rejected without verbal comment. There was no way in hell that he was going to live next to that annoying woman.

To the lake house, Crawford spared a bit more consideration. The seclusion of it, the quiet, appealed to him greatly, but, alas, he knew he would quickly grow bored if he had to live there permanently. And the idea of a kitchen staff...! His stomach still turned whenever he remembered what happened the last time they had one: Blood and organs everywhere, and all because the head chef wouldn't get up to make Farfarello a steak-and-kidney pie at midnight.

So in the end, it was down to the painter's house and the church -- to which Crawford had given his lover a questioning sort of look when he first saw its picture. Still -- it had a lot of room, and it was rather dramatic. Had possibilities.

"I know this is the one you want, isn't it?" he asked, tapping at the picture of the church. "I admit I'm not adverse to the idea of living in one, but...where will we put the dog?"

Schuldich's pout regarding the lowering of Ms. Nicks's crooning shortly vanished and was replaced with just a touch of a you've-revealed-me blush.

And Oh! You KNOW "Go Your Own Way" only sounds good if it's realllllllly loud. Stick in the mud!

But you do know me by now and it never ceases to make me sick!

I'm the fuckin' telepath!

And yet you don't sound tooooo unenthused. Like usual.

Put your shields up for negotiating, eh?

He ran his hands over his face as if considering something, which he was, but the gesture had been incurred more to banish his flush or make it look like his hands had left it. Though to distract that his hands had been involved at all, he promptly swept up his hair and rolled it into a sloppy knot, which he pinned on top of his head with a silver pen that had happened to be in the case with his laptop. A few henna- red threads ran down over his shoulders... and pointed it seemed to the remaining orange crumbs which had caught on the milky explains of his chest and shortly joined their brethren on the floor.

"Yes," he finally admitted, taking the opportunity created by the jarring suddenness of his speech to lock eyes with his boyfriend. "That's the one I'm absolutely in love with. I was going to write and see if they had a basement, so we could cart the Farfster in their blindfolded and he'd never even know he was in a damn church."

Church-damn. Damn-church damning people. Where's Saffie when I want someone to laugh at my jokes?

"Either way, I want a lock on my bedroom door. Preferably several. Just in case... and regardless of where we move in. I'm not too demanding, am I?"

I'll bring the Jacuzzi up later.

Crawford ground the neon orange crumbs into the carpet with the toe of his boot.

Damn. I rather wanted to lick your chest clean.

Oh, well.

"Demanding? Why, no, you aren't being demanding -- no more so than usual that is."

Crawford tore his eyes away from the well-muscled expanse of his lover's bare chest to study the photographs again. "A basement, hm? Yes...That might be the answer to our problem. Well, that and a strait-jacket, manacles, and a steel collar and chain."

"And extra locks too, of course. On ALL the bedroom doors."

And a tranquilizer gun...Or five...

Crawford handed both the photographs to Schuldich. "All right. Call the realtor about the church. If there is a basement, we'll take it. If there isn't, then we will take the artist's house."

He dropped his shields then. After all, it might be rather interesting to live in a place where the closets literally have skeletons in them.

::Hey! Just because you won't laugh at my bad puns doesn't mean I won't...::

Schuldich snickered appropriately, dousing Crawford's newly opened mind with raunchy red hot liquor thanks. No words, just a naughty sort of gratitude. He hauled himself up from his sexy little slouch and reached for the headset for his computer, which he donned only reluctantly.

::You say I look like phone sex operator, I'll slap you and make Nagi watch. He should enjoy that!::

Normally, he would have avoided this whole situation by writing a quick Email but since Bradley had asked nicely, or as nicely as Bradley would ever ask. But what point was there to dwell on that.

The moment someone picked up on the other end, he opened a channel to his lover and let him hear the words (and irrelevant commentary) second hand.

"Hello, Pelgars Realty, how may I help you?"

::Perky little whore, isn't she?:: "Hi..." In his most flagrantly illicit and yet somehow chilly tone. ::Well, you know sex sells!:: "This is Aubrey Marlow, I'm interested in buying the..." He had the paper in front of him but he made some shuffling noises anyway, "Church of Saint Catherine property."

A pause of sheer disbelief. "Yes, do you have a question?"

:D'uh.:: "Yes, I was wondering if it had a basement of any kind."

"Let me check, sir."

A long pause during which he took the opportunity to snatch at the remote for the stereo, which failed utterly and sent him retreating to the far end of the couch.

"Yes, Mr. Marlow. The church has a rather expansive basement it seems, between the ground floor and the reliquary. But only a few old fluorescent lights that..."

"Great!" The skipping joy sent Crawford's way was rather more extensive. "Any of those half windows?"

"Not a one."

"Perfect! In that case, I'd like to set up an appointment to visit the place oh... day after tomorrow. Sometime in mid afternoon."

"Yes sir. I take it you want..."

"The full tour and bring the papers to sign just in case. Bai now!" And he hung up without another word, rather taking the time to chuck his headphones out the missing window, and leer in a rather satisfied way at Bradley. "We'll have to get you a collar, just so I can play the naughty alter boy, hmm?"

Mmm...I do like how you operate.

"A collar, hm?" Crawford smirked at his lover. "I hadn't considered the possibilities of living in a church. So many interesting ones."

Slowly, his eyes raked over Schuldich's half-clad body. "I think I will. And a robe, and...maybe a cat-o'nine? Made of velvet of course."

He ran his hand down the middle of Schuldich's back. "I wouldn't want to seriously damage this tempting skin of yours."

The pen in Schuldich's hair rocked back and forth as he arched with Bradley's touch, glinting in the uncut sunlight, and thoroughly outshining the shoddy bun it held in place. He humphed with indignation and tossed it aside, but did not face his lover.

::But I'm entropy incarnate.::

::You say that about the velvet whip like you mean it. And you do... but Brad, if it was anyone else, you wouldn't...::

::If it was Nagi, you wouldn't mind slicing him up a bit. Just to see.::

::Because you've never tried it before. That's it. No other reason. You bad boy.::

The hand on his back pulled back suddenly.

::Oh, I meant that as an endearment. You're so uptight considering you were drinking.::

"You're making me want to be a bad little alter boy." He finally purred, turning around and facing the chill-stricken Crawford. "Yes bad!"

But with that, he did something he seriously had to wonder if Bradley saw coming.

He flopped down against him and lay quite still, his head pressed to the hollow of his shoulder.

Having Schuldich curl up next to him was unexpected. He hadn't seen such an event in any vision, and his redhead wasn't the sort to get...cuddly. It was usually just sex with him, sex and the odd kiss here and there.

Odd thing was, upon dissecting the act and the feelings it raised in him, Crawford found he didn't mind it.

And he also wondered just what had compelled Schuldich to drape himself over him in such a manner.

"I'm counting on you to be a bad little altar boy. I'm looking forward to it in fact."

Now...would you care to tell me just why you've suddenly become so...affectionate?

::Oh Bradley, do you doubt me? Do you think I have some ulterior motive?::

::Do you know how good you taste when you're surprised?::

::Picking yourself to shreds just because I did one little soft thing?::

::Surprise is all minty, if you know how to taste it. In most people, but with you it's always been... like dark chocolate.::

::Do I sound mushy? Do I feel it slung over your arm? C'mon, I know what you're wondering. I know everything about you and that pisses you off to no end.::

::There you go, doubting, and it gets sweeter and sweeter and it fills me up.::

::Just like you do, when you're shoving into me in the middle of that black bed of yours.::

::Did you know Youji has one too? Seducer. Yes, that's what you are, what you always will be?::

::So you want an answer?::

"I'm Cooooooold."

"You're cold, yet you didn't bother to get completely dressed."

Silly, Crawford thought at his lover, but he put his arm around him anyway. Slid his hand down his arm to loosely clasp his hip, just like they were a long married couple for whom the spark had never died.

Which, in his opinion at least, they were. Schuldich was many things, but he was never boring.

Do I think you have an ulterior motive? Yes, I do. But then you usually do.

As to whether or not your motive is a good one or a bad one...

He snaked his fingers through his lover's snarled mane.

So you think I'm a seducer, hm? Perhaps.

But then, I don't believe I've ever heard you complain...Neither in bed or beyond it.

He brought his hand up from its perch on his hip and cupped Schuldich's chin, tipping his head back for a solid, thorough kiss.

Besides you are as much as a seducer as I am.

You're Sex incarnate -- Chaos incarnate, and I...

"Wait a minute. How do you know that Youji Kudou has a black bed?"

Schuldich refused to pull away completely, but nonetheless crossed his arms and sent little miffed papillions noirs Crawford's way.

Even if he was anything but miffed, he at least had a front to put up.

"Well, he IS the self-declared pasha of pussy! I mean, what do you THINK he was secretly dreaming about all that time while he was fighting me? My ass? My pecs? My dick? Hardly."

As evidence, he presented a few stolen recollections of the wire-wielding playboy. His gaping, bursting pin-pricked fear as he felt the telepathic fingers take him and nibble at the faces of a hundred women often fleeing into each other. But still, for the most part, strung out like just more butterflies across a black silk bed.

And, as dessert, for neither of them cared much for the sights of bare-breasted beauties not fashioned of marble or recently decapitated by le chen, he offered one fantasy of an open and willing Omi, gaily diddling himself with a bud-vase.

::And they called US depraved. I'd say we're even, hmm?::

"But it's nice to see that's all it takes to make you jealous. Just the idea I had been in bed with him. That I had been near it... maybe he considered me. And you didn't know."

Finished, he uncurled his arms and flopped back down.

With his redhead settled next to him once more, Crawford strung his arm around him, but this time his hand wasn't still. Rather, it ghosted up and down his arm from wrist to shoulder while he talked.

"A thousand pardons, Schuldich, for my apparent faux pas. I obviously confused Kudou with myself.

Because I think about you quite often...

"But then you already knew that, I'm sure, as many times as you've been in my head."

Every shadowy nook of it laid open for your perusal.

"And you know...how I feel."

Even though I can't bring myself to say it.

He touched the fingers of his free hand to the hollow of Schuldich's throat, tracing outward over his collarbones, then down his breastbone and back again.

His jade eyes just cracked open and stared back to the blue ones. Blue as ice in dreams of dying, hazy behind his lashes, as if seen in a dim room. "I forgive you... for now. Know that."

::Know what I thought about while I was gone?:: sent as he rolled forward against the fingers that brushed his chest.

::I was thinking I might like to do Aya.::

::But then again, I can see that in you.::

::We do a lot of people besides each other.::

::We're sick to sooooo many people. And as much as I savor hate while licking my wounds. As much as I don't give a flying fuck.::

::You know it's not the only reason.::

::Have a little faith if you've going to dress up like a priest. That I come back.:: His eyes fell closed then and he caught the hand which was tickling his arm, covering its fingers with his own before popping one of them up close to his lips.

"I do. I also know what you're thinking right now in the back of your mind. The same thing that's always creeping up around you after your done with me, after a few missions. The day we came here."

For preferring his mind over his tongue, Schuldich had amazing control over his voice, and set it to a lazy, lost drawl.

"You're wondering if I care anything for you."

The first of the evening winds stirred the curtains who had lost their guardians of glass. A few strands of his hair caught in it, a few of Bradley's, but nothing more than to make them look restless. Farfie howled at the rising moons and Stevie sang of dreams.

As for Schuldich, he smiled, and got to his feet, leaning down, nose to nose with his lover.

"Durak," he said, kissed the pale lips and slid off to the armoire.

(Durak: Russian equivalent of 'baka'.)

Mythril mines? Shin-ra?

What the -- ?

And why am I not surprised that you know yet another eccentric person?

Ran looked from the shadowy recesses of the closet over to his lover, waiting for an explanation, an introduction, the world to end, SOMETHING. But as the seconds ticked by and nothing was heard save for a knowing chuckle and the sound of a pail being stumbled over, he finally lay his hand on Ken's shoulder and squeezed it, whispering,

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your interesting friend?"

Ken nodded, trying to cover his laugh as their cardboard-bearing assailant stumbled forth from his hiding place, revealing himself to be a well-built chap of about thirty; bandages covering both his sinewy forearms, his clothing blue and mussed and mostly of leather. Combat gear leather, not bondage. He had two grey blue eyes obviously supplied by contacts and a spiky mop of jet black hair.

A perfect replica of the Zack sprite all around, except for the bucket firmly affixed to his right foot. With a great whirling flourish, he swung his makeshift weapon over his shoulder and regarded the pair... his shoulders sagging dramatically as he scratched his cheek while looking at Ken.

Speaking of whom, he turned to his lover and mouthed, "Just play along. It's the hotel owner."

And then with a blustery acting that wouldn't have fooled a five year old. "Zack! Shit, man! It's been so long! Don't you remember your old buddy Cid?"

"Zack"'s eyes grew to impossible size and he uttered quite a string of obscenities himself as he reached over and clasped Ken's shoulders, but no more, thankfully. "By the Ancients! It's been to long, old pal! As you can see, I've been hold up here for far, far too long, but oh! Have you heard? The Turks have turned traitors! Their on our side now!"

"Hell no! You must be fucking with me!"

"No! It's true! Sometimes, they even come visit me down in shaft 24. They're real weird though! But eh, city people." And then, almost playfully listing to one side so as to see over Ken's shoulder. "And who might this be? Friend of yours?"

Think fast Hidaka! "Umm... this is... this is... Zack! This is Shera! Sh -- ...he used to work with me on the Shin-ra 26! Saved my ass quite a few times too!"

"Nice ta metcha, Shera!" And with that, he presented Ran with his enormous paw.

Ran warily took the man's hand and shook it. Or rather, his hand lay still within the crush of those massive fingers while Zack heartily pumped it.

"Uh...Hello."

Yare, yare.

"Uh...No, I haven't gone back to Shin-ra 26 lately."

I am completely clueless. Is this guy cosplaying from an anime? Or is it from a game?

"No, no, I haven't seen much action lately. I've been...doing undercover work. Uh...spying."

Either way, I probably wouldn't be all that familiar with the storyline.

And from the look on his face, I've already made a mistake...

"Zack" regarded "Shera" with wide, vexed eyes. "You have?"

"He most certainly has!" Ken declared with a wave. "What with being a maintenance worker and all I mean, goddamnit! He's got access to all kindsa neato Shin-ra records and shit!"

And if he doesn't chew me out for having a dirty mouth by the end of this...

"Really!" Now the puzzling be-bucketed fellow had gone rather elated. "COOL! You got into any of Hojo's stuff? You know Sephiroth isn't really dead then. See, it's just like I told you, Cid!" With that though, he leaned forward, his huge, shiny gloves hovering on either side of Ran's head. "You... you haven't heard anything about my Cloud, have you? He's a swordsman, kinda like me. But he's blond, and really cute. He went missing back when I was shot... Did Cid tell you about that? It's not important."

A HUGE mistake.

Ran glanced over at Ken, silently asking for a little assistance with a subtle wag of his brows. Ken simply grinned at him like the Cheshire cat and jerked his head in "Zack's" direction. Mouthed a few words of encouragement.

And I can see that you're really worried about me, anata. Thanks!

"Uh...No, you're right, Zack. Sephiroth is still alive."

To which the burly, would-be warrior delightedly slapped both hands down on either side of his head, sending his eartails in a mad whirl around his face. Ran smoothed a few stray strands away from his face, tugging them more-or-less straight.

"And...Cloud..."

Zack nodded eagerly, face alight with anticipation.

Better make him happy, Ran.

"He's...back on Shinra. He spent a bit of time in the prison after the last battle you two were in, but he and a few others escaped after a couple of months, and now he's...working with the resistance again; took out one of the opposition's leaders recently. Er...That's all I've found out about him..."

"Prison! Oh!" Happy tears burgled from the depths of his all too bright eyes. "But he's alive! I can't thank you enough, Shera! You've made everything alright again for me! I'd stay and chat, really I'd love to. I mean, hey! I've got you to get to know, and all this catching up to do with Cid."

"Aw damn!" Ken snapped his fingers. "I gotta get back to Rocket Town tomorra! I ain't gonna get to see ya again!"

"Shucks!" Zack seemed genuinely deflated. "Well, that's the life of mercenary like me! But I've got my Cloud back and that's all that matters. I'm bound to run into him sooner or later. Got a lotta apologizing to do... ah, my beautiful, virginal Cloud..."

And then he blinked. "Wait... if he's been in prison... that means he might not be..." at this, he poked his fingers together like a child would and blushed. "He might not be so virginal after all! AGH! The heads of a thousand Sephiroths will not make up for this."

"I know..." Ken reached over, tentatively patting one of his shoulders, finding the armor which it bore had in fact been fashioned of a colander. "But Shera and I ah... we have to... go barbecue a Zolom for dinner! That's it! Why, we've got an air ship full of hungry maintenance workers to feed!"

"Yeah, good luck to ya!"

"You too!"

"Cid" waved brightly and took the time to nudge Ran down the hall. Once safely hidden in the stairwell, he collapsed against the wall, giggling and panting, patting his beloved's shoulder.

"Well, that was Zack. He used to do..." a wag of his head, "A LOT of hiropon. He's been like that ever since he was clean. Or almost... I don't remember right now... Anyway, you did pretty damn good back there! I didn't know you liked FF7."

(OOC: Hiropon -- Japanese speed.)

Ran stood by and watched his lover dissolve into another fit of giggles, himself wearing a pole-axed look. "I can't believe they let that nutter own a hotel."

I can't believe what I just did, playing along with him.

"Who's tending the place while he's knocking around in the broom closets?"

That was entirely juvenile.

And ridiculous.

But...it was fun...

And I like to hear you laugh...Except...

"Umm...I don't like FF7. I've never...I don't really know what it is."

"Well, he hasn't hurt anyone yet, and no one ever refused to pay him and..." Ken dropped off suddenly and quizzically peered at Ran. "Really? You've never played FF7? It's a Playstation game." Another especially fond chuckle. "You could have fooled me! Wow... you're just... great Ran! Great!"

And then, as the two of them began to slip down the stairs (or risk further confrontation) it occurred to him that his beloved hadn't exactly been one for video games of any sort... anything remotely related to colors generated on a piece of glass by carefully aimed electrons. He'd had no time, no wishes for them. Mostly no time. Memories of Omi and he whooping in the living room while they raced chocobos, Aya in the next room not knowing what was going on. But a lot of things went that way. Not everyone spends their precious moments of downtime so. And besides, weren't such things the bane of the literary inclined? He made his offer anyway, "If you wanna play it some time, it's really intriguing. I'll getcha a copy."

Ran nodded, but didn't seem too enthused. At least, not nearly as enthused as he would have seemed, if FF7 had been a book.

In the mean time, he couldn't claim to care. Caring about books was sweet. Anyone who cared about him was a saint. They reached the main hall and he lead him out what looked like am emergency exit.

"Not a lot of people go outside here. I mean, why should they? It's plenty serene inside for the most part. Warmer. And everyone else is there."

Crawford heard the seesawing squeak of the wardrobe doors opening and closing, so, with a click of a button Stevie was sent to bed as well. He set the remote down on the table, and slouched down a bit in his seat, and watched the dawning moonlight creep across the white marble balcony towards the boundary of the living room, shield up and smoke curling languidly into the air from his mouth.

Oh, I know you don't love me, Schuldich. I have always known it.

And I guess it doesn't really matter if you don't. Love is such a fickle emotion anyway.

Sooner or later, the enchantment will wear off.

Hm. Sooner or later...

Crawford slipped the cigarette out of his mouth and stretched his arms above his head, yawning quietly. Then he stood up, and walked over to the stereo, and opened one of the small, squarish drawers that lined the bottom half of the cabinet. Flipped through the cases until he found the one he was looking for. Popped it in with a fond smile.

Cranked up the volume.

And then he strolled out again into the cool, blue recesses of the dusky evening to the first blundering cacophony of notes.

Enjoy, Schuldich, he thought at his lover as he closed the door behind him, having had dropped his shields at last.

People said we couldn't play
The called us foul-mothed yobs
But the only notes that really count
Are the ones that come in wads

They all drowned when the air turned blue
'Cos we didn't give a toss
Filthy lucre, ain't nothing new
But we all get cash from the chaos

The time is right to do it now
The greatest rock'n'roll swindle
The time is right to do it now

Schuldich left the doors to the armoire swinging listlessly in the early evening air the second time he changed his mind about what to put on. Tried to kick one from the bed and didn't quite reach it. In the end he laid back and stared at the shadows spreading over the ceiling.

This is the whole point. I mean, five years. Five centuries. I HIGHLY doubt another day will make a difference.

I highly doubt anything will make a difference anymore. But words escape me. Words are my one enemy I can not defeat. If you saw me like this you wouldn't have wanted me in the first place.

And then he slapped himself.

What the fuck has gotten into you, Aubrey?

Who the hell is Aubrey? Can't remember the last time anyone called me that.

I don't think he even remembers that's my name.

It's just one of those days. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

So he closed his eyes for a moment and cast himself backwards into the pure sound, the senseless sound. Dirty noise about dirty money. And he smiled, wondering if five or four of the evening had come yet. No clocks here of course and it was hard to tell of course for the moons stood brighter in the sunset not yet begun than the sun itself.

::Just tell me, Brad.::

And he finally threw on his kimono, remembering to tie it this time.

::You know, screw the why but... just think it. Yes or no.::

Outside, he threw himself down on the couch and watched the figure through the glass, the one that seemed to be listening to birds rather than mortal noise. Or was it him? You don't hear me, you taste me, but anyway...?

::You happy? I am...::

A curious feeling of elation rose within his chest upon hearing Schuldich's affirmative answer to his own quietly asked question. Crawford didn't have the heart to string him along, as he had briefly considered doing.

Yes.

I'm happy.

One last drag and the cigarette was stubbed out on the creamy stone, and tossed away into the bushes below. Crawford turned out just as the song ground to a halt, and he walked back into the living room through one of the empty frames. Snapped the stereo off just as their butchered rendition of Sinatra's theme song crashed through the hidden speakers.

"Sorry, but Johnny Rotten's voice is hardly suitable for romantic moments."

And that is where all this is leading to, isn't it?

He walked over to the couch and simply stood there, admiring his lover in the waning, teal-stained light: Hair spread haphazardly across the silver cushions; the edges of his kimono parted just so, exposing a wide swathe of his chest for his view; those catlike eyes glittering so mysteriously at him.

Little wonder it was, then, that Schuldich soon found himself with a companion on the sofa. Glasses and watch now residing on the picture-strewn coffee table, Crawford stretched out on top of his lover, and slid his hands under his back, cupping his shoulders.

"Wanting reassurance, are you..."

"...Aubrey?"

The quick repartee of "I always want re-assurance" sputtered out of his head with the song of that one word. And of two men there, two psychics who had lived out their lived in the cynicism of never knowing surprise or any remote shred of something unsullied...

Schuldich found himself surprised. And it made him cold all over, and hot inside like a platter of snow amber... what an odd thing to think of. But he laid there, quite still, blinking up at Bradley from the silver-blue sprawl of the couch. As if dazzled by the moonlight, or some sudden flaw on his reflection in the curves of the glasses winking without eyes on the coffee table.

He realized he was gasping faintly then, and to hide it dragged the edges of his robe upon below the tie, letting the whiteness of his thighs meet the evening air, and his bare waist touch the turgid softness of the front of Bradley's trousers.

Crawford lay there motionless for awhile, savoring the pressure on his groin, and then he unhooked his hands from Schuldich's shoulders, and rocked upright, kneeling between his lover's sprawled legs. His eyes slowly devoured the half-naked body laid out before him, lingering especially on the semi-soft bit of flesh at the center of his redhead's body.

"I suppose you're expecting me to simply get hard and ravage you; satiate my lust, slap you on the ass, and go to sleep."

He chuckled, and began to tug his shirt free from his trousers, grabbing the hem and pulling it over his head, and tossing it to the floor. "However, lust isn't what's motivating me now -- not entirely."

Two fingers began a lazy, downward spiral across Schuldich's lower stomach, stopping their dance short just above the patch of fiery, curling hair. Then he withdrew his hand, watching in satisfaction that pale, partially shadowed length start to twitch.

"Not that I don't enjoy our impromptu encounters, or our little games, because I do -- very much so."

"But..." and here, Crawford dealt a quick, light stroke to Schuldich's tip, "Right now, I don't want to merely fuck you. I want to worship you."

And if you could see yourself as I see you, you would understand why.

Schuldich craned his head back over the arm of the couch, half laughing, half gasping. "We haven't bought the damn church yet and you're already holding services."

A hand, cast flickering and dim by the twinkling end of the light which had just begun to spring peach and cherry wine on the horizon, came up and undid the knot that fastened his robe. The silk of it fell to the sides with a soft slurp like an eager lingua tracing over him, even as he reached up and took one of his own nipples in his hands, tweaking it softly as he looked up at Bradley's reverent form with wide and mischievous eyes. He seemed to be lying in a rumpled black hole, there on the sofa, winking like Orphicuis from some banished halo of the zodiac.

And then he reached up and fumbled one of his lover's buds in just the same way.

"Aren't you making an idol of me? Isn't that a sin? But then again, all good Christians crucify their idols, making idols of them in the first place."

::It's pleasing you know, having someone I can banter about consecrated crap with before I get it.::

::But you know, I can creep into your mind right now. I can see what you see. But that still wouldn't make me yours or my own. Why don't you just... show me.::

In his softest mocking voice then, "Bra~adley. It's far too early for bed, even for good little boys."

"Hmm, yes, much, much too early."

Crawford slowly ran his hands up Schuldich's sides, tracing over hard, shifting muscle and fragile bone. He knocked his lover's hand away from his nipple with a light slap, and covered both tender nubs with his own to pet and pinch them gently.

You are so beautiful...

"You are my idol, and I am a sinner, and I will never repent."

I will never forsake you.

He bent and rubbed his cheek against Schuldich's throat like a cat would, marveling over how sensitive and responsive his redhead was under his hands. Those tiny little gasps alone were enough to drive a man into a frenzy.

Or rather, they were enough for him.

"Aubrey, Aubrey, Aubrey. You are better than any drug."

He turned his head then and felt his way down Schuldich's neck with his mouth. Licked a warm path down to his chest, where he took one rosy bud in his mouth and began to suck.

Schuldich leaned back and listened to the nothings bubbling from Crawford's lips and mind beneath him, for he crept into his lover's thoughts and cast himself down there, watching the facets of them come undone and redone. The moans were for his own pleasure and that of his companion, for it ran over him, as he sat inside him, plucking at his psyche just as his body was plucked at.

Let his eyes gleam up at him. He seldom closed them, even in the midst of the most brutal dedication. The night before had been a deliberate exception. Well, it's unnerving, why not?

::You think if Nagi walked in, he'd know what I was doing to you? Hmm?::

::Don't act like it's such an impossibility. I AM notoriously loud in bed.::

Thinking of which, he jerked and arched having taken one of Bradley's hands and pushed it against his own groin, only to feel it squeeze him a second, then strike at his thighs as they sagged into the silver silk.

So one took the other's body, and one the other's brain and still smirking he flung himself aside and writhed under his lover with long slow movements that though supplicated rang with a distinct mindset of control.

I always know what I do to you.

Overhead, the moons wheeled out their hellos and the aurora chimed in with happy whistles. Still, the violets came, but so did a chill and the hints of unborn dew on the pale blue air. Along one side, the shoulder blades of the hotel hovered, no matter how far they were to take the winding footpath into the gardens, but otherwise... not a soul, not a human, only dead flowers cast azure, hosts of pale moths coming up for their quests for candles, and the still presence of water nearby.

In the hush of early evening, the whispering slur of a river? -- A waterfall? -- could be heard, but Ran couldn't pinpoint exactly which direction the body of water lay. The sound was coming from everywhere and nowhere, just like the scent of violets. A breeze whipped up as they meandered, cool and soft like a dream, and Ran's hand found its way onto Ken's shoulder.

The trees grew thicker as they walked, forming a natural arch over the path, and more or less acting as guides for those who dared to venture forth.

Guides to a wondrous night-blooming world.

The end of their journey was marked by a plainly-wrought, silver gate door in the middle of two trees. It gave away with a brush of an index finger. Ran followed Ken inside, expecting to find a garden of sleeping blooms, but finding instead a sea of newly opened flowers of all shapes and sizes -- all palely glowing blue-white in the surreal light from the heavens. Their mingled perfumes floated to them on sudden leaping breezes, drowning out the omnipresent aroma of violets all too briefly.

But that wasn't the most pleasing feature of the grotto. That distinction fell to the vast, mirror-clear pool which lay directly ahead of them. Ringed only by rushes, it shone silver with the light of the twin moons above them. A thick stream fed it, creeping rather than racing over a gradual incline of mossy rocks.

Ran turned to Ken then, his hand having drifted down to grasp his boyfriend's own. His normally blue eyes were shot through with quicksilver, and his dark hair was heavily laced with strands of platinum. No mere human now, but a thing of wonder. Ran's heartbeat quickened at the sight.

"Moonlight suits you, Ken."

Seeing the timid hunger in his lover's eyes, Ken blushed a bit, and smoothed at the mark with his hand as if he could wash it away. All he managed to mumble out in the end was, "You too..." and for he had shivered, he took his gaze then slowly from the boy lamia at his side, whose skin had gone the same fluxing cyan as the blooms, and whose ruby hair had assumed the same mystical tint as his eyes. Ye, enough brightness crept from the moons to seen colors, but not true colors.

He himself felt as light and formless as he must have looked, naughty and silent. Patched back together from someone's impressions. Moonlight makes me giddy is what! So he sat down facing the pond, leaning back on his hands and listening to his beloved patter around the blooms as if he could make them out better on close contact. Silly. Not bright enough for that, and something besides told him he wasn't looking at the flowers too closely.

"I've actually..." His voice had not gone thin or low. He still sounded like Ken, startling and brazen in the half-light. "never been here before, but I'd heard about it."

So I'm not... remembering Kaze. Just so you know. He never laid eyes on this place, or anything besides me while we were here.

It's new, it's virgin. It's all yours and mine.

That make you feel better?

"I thought you'd like it."

Am I talking to myself? Have you gone and vanished on me? I swear I can feel your heartbeat in the air but...

Man, there IS something about this place... or you... or both and I can't say I'd complain...

His answer? A little hand creeping over his shoulder for a moment. Then it was gone. A light chuckle, and his thoughts of skipping a few pebbles over the glassy pond subsided. One little wonder came and settled in him, so his tongue played it out.

"Hey Ran? Can I ask you something kinda embarrassing?"

You've never been here? Ran turned and thoughtfully regarded his musing lover.

I could make a memory here for you, couldn't I? A good one, too.

Another perfume-rich breeze gusted across the wide, wild garden, and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. Please, please, let me say and do all the right things...

Ran left off his exploration of the quiet, shimmering garden then, and sat down on the dewy grass beside Ken. He wriggled off his boots and socks, and scrunched his toes in the spongy, moon-silvered mass.

"Embarrassing, huh?" Ran draped his arms across the tops of his bent knees, and watched the water flash here and there as it cascaded down the stones. "Well, you just answered one of my questions without me having to even ask, so..."

"What do you want to know?"

Ken scooted his hands nearer to the rest of his body, so he was somewhat closer to sitting rather than slouching, regardless of that he felt as if he could have collapsed there in the garden and watched the stars for the rest of his life.

As long as Ran stayed of course. So he regarded he boyfriend instead, how he always seemed to curl up when questioned, like a kitten who wasn't sure it liked having it's belly rubbed, so he reached over and scratched the back of his neck for a moment, since maybe he'd like that better. But it seemed just plain odd, having his hand against him for his little inquiry, so he cast it across his lap.

"How long have you... uhm... known? I mean that you kinda... you know. Liked other guys. I'm just curious I guess."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Ken."

Ran stretched his arms in front of him, and then settled them back atop their perch. "I didn't realize my preferences until I was about...Eighteen, if I remember correctly. Girls never did anything for me, not really, but I never gave it much thought. I was too busy to worry about dating anyway, and too shy on top of that, so..."

He snorted softly, and raked a hand through his hair. "I've never dated anyone," he murmured.

Ken's eyes grew quite wide, and he had to admit he was rather glad they'd not been facing each other.

You went... that long, no knowing?

What were you telling yourself in the mean time?

Didn't you worry, didn't you wonder?

And then with a faint sigh to himself. So... you've never told anyone? Since Aya was gone then... oh, I bet she knew. Sisters are like that. But I won't say anything at least about her. Not right now... and besides...

It's taken this long to admit... you're shy.

"Hey, it's OK. Really. Being shy I mean." And to show him how much, he leaned over a little closer, but not too close, and the violets swallowed Ran's scent anyway.

And I just realize now... most people know by the time they're eight... at least I read that somewhere, don't know if it's true.

It just... strikes me as funny, in a nice way, that you wanted me then... of all people.

"You don't have to hold my hand in public, or my waist, if you don't want. But I do like it. Even if I am real messed up. I dunno... I guess... I never really dated... not like regular people I just... was, before you and..." he trailed off, watched a moth perch on the edge of the pool, the abyss of silver black it seemed to be kneeling at in cabalistic prayer rather than sipping from. "But I had people who knew... did you? Anyone..."

Or am I the first there too?

"No, no, I want to hold your hand. I want to...to touch you. I..."

Impulsively, Ran reached over and took Ken's hand in his own. Laced their fingers together. "I'm not ashamed of you. Sometimes, it feels odd, being with you. I didn't think it would happen, and I can't get over that I can walk about with you and no one thinks anything about it."

"I never thought I'd be this free."

"As for the knowing part...No, I don't think anyone knew. But then, I don't know how anyone could -- I was never an open person."

A sad little smile ghosted over his lips. "I had Aya as an excuse before and my training after. I was always too busy."

The timid smile melted away, and Ran looked back over at the lake, listening to the sensual lapping of the water against the bank.

"I was always too concerned with...other things."

"And you still can be, Ran, Sweetheart. I don't have to be your world, you can have a life outside of me, I want that! But I... I want you to have a life. Something glad to call your own. Be part of it, see you be free for the first time. Relax... maybe with me too."

Ken laughed, stunned by his own sudden eloquence, which had fled him as soon as it had manifested it seemed. Once again. He doubted it would be the last time. He pitched back and stared into the moons, catching the aurora as it first fluttered into being.

But then he sat up abruptly and tugged ran down with him, so they were both cast across the empty grass, in a halo night time blooms, under the sky and under the water of dark air. Side by side, their hands melting together. "But be free... just... free..."

Another laugh, this one plainly sorrowful.

The sound twisted Ran's heart. Made him ache terribly inside. He fancied that Ken was about to release his hand, and he clasped it that much more firmly. When he spoke at last, over the cries of some wheeling night bird, it was in little more than a whisper.

"I want you to be free too. I want you to have a life like you want. I want you to be happy."

"I want you with me."

"I've never dated, no. I've...never been with anyone. I...uh..."

"I always wanted to...to be with you, for what that's worth, Ken."

The twin moons blurred with their aurora into a formless blob, and he lifted his hand to his eyes, smearing away the smarting tears brimmed at their edges.

"Don't pull away from me. Please."

"Ran...!" Ken rather abruptly tossed himself onto his side and clasped the hand that had enfolded his own, but both motions were so careless in his own deep pains, he found himself pressed tight up against his lover, their arms rather smashed between them.

And though he started to shiver almost at once, he did as his companion had asked.

He stayed, and took one of his rough, dewy hands up to fumble with Ran's lashes where they trembled in the dimness, surprised he did not wince away, so tender felt his lids, so easily marred by his careless touches. Made so not by neglect, but merely from that they came from his hands and no one else's.

"Ran? Sweetheart, what's wrong I mean... besides me I..."

And then a moment of naught but their sighing breaths, as if the water had gone silent, and his ears lost hearing of themselves for he knew his heart was pounding...

His next words surprised him more than if he had uttered scraps of Middle English love poetry in the original dialect. If only because he'd never pictured himself saying them to Aya.

"If you needa cry... don't feel bad. I won't tell anyone."

And Ran did exactly that, with tears freely streaming and his breath coming in deep, quiet sighs.

"Y-you're shivering now, you're so scared to be near me. Afraid I'll touch you...or more. Afraid I'll be like..."

Ran gulped, and caught at Ken's wandering fingers, murmuring apologies. He opened his eyes to stare at the sky at last, damp and glittering faintly as they were from the spectral light above them.

"You'll never be all right, will you? You'll...always be living in fear of his ghost, and nothing I do will drive it away from you. But then, what can I do? I'm completely at a loss. I'm no lover! I'm just...just..."

"...A murderer."

I wanted this night to be special for you, sweet for you...

And I've failed you.

He fell back into sobbing silently, and listened to the frightened staccato of his heart.

Though Ken's body felt like one endless, quaking shift of ice to his own muscles, him mind was trapped in blushing blue flames of loneliness. He could not will his bones to cease their clattering, nor make the moons spin backwards.

Not even speak.

There was but one thing left to him, and he had wanted to do it for years, and he wished he could forget the mere suggestion of it, and he loved Ran, but Ran did not believe him.

And Ran needed him. And nothing else mattered.

So he sat up and tugged off his shirt with one fluid motion, shuddering in earnest now, his scars glinting in the darkness, a faint moan of protest beside him. A smile of pathos and a flower from the nearest cluster.

The flower he slipped behind his beloved's ear as he slipped his quavering form around him. One arm around his tiny waist, one leg wrapped between his own, the other arm under his head, it's hand wound in one of his ear tails, brushing the red threads and the white petals.

His face pressed tight to his neck where finally the faint cream of his perfume returned and was worth the unhappy protests of his form.

"This is where you wanted, isn't it? I'm sorry if it's not. I can't give you anything more right now."

One kiss along his throat.

"But I do love you, even if my body doesn't."

One of Ran's tears rolled onto his own nose and he let it lie there, warming and chilling him all over.

Ran only wept that much harder, clenching hands bruising the tender grass beneath him. He had dared to lay them on Ken's back at one point, but his lover had reacted so negatively to his touch that he had let them drop back down to his sides. Instead of going limp and reveling in being thus held by the man he'd loved for so long, Ran tensed up, afraid to move even the slightest bit.

"You didn't...have to do this! I wasn't trying to manipulate you! I wasn't trying to force you. I...I wasn't! I never wanted that!"

"You're the only person I've ever loved...outside of my family. I love you and I...I want you, and you make me feel so guilty because I do. I can't help how I...feel." That last remark ended in a sob, and Ran turned his head to one side in anguish.

It hurts so badly!

"I hate that you're afraid of me."

And it's your fault that it does. If you hadn't given in to your emotions, if you had just continued to deny them, then your heart wouldn't feel as if it had been smashed to pieces now.

"I hate that I'm helpless. I've always been helpless. All I can do is stand by and watch the people I love be destroyed. I can't ever save them. Can't ever protect them."

Push him away, Ran. Do it!

Become Aya!

"I'm always too late."

Save yourself! Save him!

Because how do you think he's going to react when he realizes just what sort of effect he's having on you, being so close?

He'll be scared, even worse than he is now. He thinks you're going to hurt him. He's always going to think that way.

It's no good, Ran.

"I wasn't meant to be happy."

I know...And I should. I should just...

"I should push you away and leave you in peace."

But I...

"I can't. I can't do it. I'm such a selfish bastard, I know, but I just..."

He lifted one trembling hand and hesitantly laid it on the back of Ken's head.

"Don't..." Ken sighed only to feel the fingers in his hair dart away. "Not that I mean... here... put your hands back against me and pet me a little."

They lay staring at each other for a few long minutes where Ran's eyes seemed to have caught pools of stars with their tears and his own he could feel stinging or drifting closed. Not that the hour was late of the day, or that any hour remained. But that it was easier to smile without looking at his beloved's saline fraught face.

And the hand brushed against him then, softly at first, as he blinded himself, and smiled. "I meant don't pull away from me."

To the traces of disbelief tangled in the air. "Really. You haven't MADE me do... anything. Haven't forced me, haven't manipulated me. I did this. On my own. Because I think you're lonesome, and I know your scared -- you did tell me last night and because..."

A small sigh, a pleasured on, as he curled just a little closer, teeth chattering or not, and squeezed him. "What kind of a friend would I be if I let you cry all by yourself? Let alone boyfriend."

Another little kiss on the cheek. "So you just cry yourself out, OK? Don't worry about me, at least not now."

This muttered, it's place as heard or unheard quite unclear. "I'm not gonna get better if you walk away."

It's okay. Do you hear that?

All those times that I've cried alone, frozen in some dream-conjured hell, and all this time...

He would have given his long contained emotions free rein then, but...It was as if getting permission to weep was enough to stop him from doing it. A couple of choked little gasps and shudders later, and the teary film clinging to his eyes was gone -- wiped away with a few fluttering scrunches of his eyelids. Ran soon found himself staring up at the clear, pearl-limned face of his lover; over his shoulder, the moons were mere twins again, and their aurora a vaporous mantle once more.

"I won't walk away."

Ran brought his other hand up to Ken's back, gingerly fanning his fingers out across the scar-slick skin between his shoulder blades, and sorrowfully murmuring apologies with every quiver of his lover's body.

"You feel so warm," he said in a hushed, embarrassed whisper, "I don't want to let you go."

"But I will -- whenever you want me to."

"Well..." Ken offered with only the very faintest hint of a tease. "Not now, how's that?"

Then he gave Ran another cuddle, though it didn't come out nearly as well as the first. He had to wonder if his shaking had exhausted him for he felt very tired and weak. And even if the winged wyrms of the fears he could not name still climbed around him mind and choked his affection that he so wished to present, and with honest warmth, rather than traces of snow, he also felt very, very safe.

I wonder... if you know those are burn marks on my back there, not whip-wheels, although, I have to wonder too, if I'd be happier with those all over me.

Because that's what you'd expect.

That's what would make sense and... why am I thinking about this now?

He neither knew, nor cared, and rather instead propped himself up on his elbow a bit, just so he could savor the end of his beloved's tears, which felt very cleansing and sweet, even as they ran over his own skin in touch only, rather than as the grinding essence of a heart.

You're so pretty when you cry. I'm sorry, but you are. The way your tears glitter on your face, the way your lips drift apart and that little bit of a blush over your nose...

And even with the way he slapped himself inside for even thinking that, his face spoke of nothing but acceptance and adoration, remained somewhat grave, in spite of the tilt of his lips. The consideration to take them and kiss them as deeply as he could came to him and he almost struck the earth again, quaking, but rather shook it off, and merely petted the soft flesh.

"I'll be alright, Ran. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day. But I will be."

At last he did give up and cast himself back down, very slowly. "And I don't expect you to be patient, or perfect, or stoic, or whatever, just for me."

"I want you to feel better so... umm... do you?"

That's the first time since we came here that you've said it, that you'll be all right.

And you said it like you believe it, so...

"...Yeah, I do."

Ran scrubbed away the last vestiges of damp from his cheeks with the back of one hand before he let it flop wearily down on the ground behind his head. He hadn't cried quite so hard in years, and he had done it that time in front of someone too. Although...that someone hadn't been nearly as kind to him as Ken had been.

Not that Ran had expected Ken to be kind to him; nor was he necessarily looking for such favorable treatment. But then again, he hadn't expected to break down so completely either. He was terribly drained now, and unwilling to move from that spot.

If only it weren't so cold and damp.

If only Ken weren't still lying next to him half-dressed...

He rolled onto his side to look at him.

"I can't be impatient -- it won't make you heal any faster. I can't be perfect, though...I strive to be. I am stoic for the most part -- temper notwithstanding. And..."

I'd ask you about those scars, but part of me doesn't want to know. I...can't bear it now, knowing that he's hurt you.

I don't want any such memory to taunt me in my dreams.

A pause, and Ran leaned forward and kissed his slightly parted, inviting lips.

One day...Hopefully...it won't taunt you either.

"I'm tired."

"Me tooooooooo." Ken admitted after a series of quick and tingly kisses, which he happily would have neglected his shirt for, except that it HAD gotten very, very chilly there, doused with dew and each other's salt water.

Above the aurora was in full bloom and the stars hovering around it refused to fall. He could have watched the lights dance all night with Ran.

If he'd had half a brain to bring a coat along. In the mean time, he sat up, and yanked his koalas back into place, then promptly removed them only to flip them to their proper right-side-out orientation and THEN put them on.

Ran didn't chuckle in the slightest, or even shake his head. He lay quite still, as if he had nodded off centuries ago, one hand folded on his stomach, the other propped under his purple floss. His eyes, pale slits, blinked with a great languor and a certain contemplation. The white flower had fallen from his hair and lay dying behind him. So much for that. By next night, if anyone came, only their memories would ever speak of it again.

If anything ever spoke of it period. Ken presently tilted his head back for one last look at the fantastic phantasms of the terran heavens. "Well, even stoics need a good cry now and then. Stupid and girly as that must sound to you. But you know? You need one, you come get me, and you promise me you won't be embarrassed."

Ran gave him quite the look, but nodded.

So he got to his feet, and there cracked his shoulders and his neck. The popping sound quite frightened off at least two birds, who startled them both. No matter. He bent down and flopped one irritably limp Ran over his shoulder, jerking his back a bit as he rose back to his full height, as if to test the willingness of his burden with a little bounce as a child in a similar position would have been offered.

Which would have been a bad idea even if he had been capable of exhibiting his full strength. In his present condition, still trembling now and again with an uncertain resonance... worn out from trembling... just standing with his lover in his arms, would have been beyond him. His nobility sputtered out with the realization his skinny, little boyfriend was not as light and airy as the clouds in inspired in his heart.

He lost his balance and fell backwards with a cry.

Right into the pond.

Ran and all.

Ran's last thought before he hit the water was that now he knew how the potted palms at the Koneko felt during their last few minutes on earth.

He fell into head-over-heels into the pond with a startled little cry, and breached its rippling surface with much spluttering. Soaked to the skin and daubed here and there with mud (most of it in his hair), all thoughts of sleep were gone. He had warned him against picking him up, albeit half-heartedly, and rather drowsily. Perhaps he hadn't heard him?

Or perhaps, he had chosen not to hear him. Words of warning were useless in the face of such unshakable chivalry.

He ran both hands over his face, grimacing when he saw how covered in mud they were. Hastily he splashed his face with the chill water, flicking his hands through his ragged, wildly mussed hair as he waded through the waist deep water over to Ken. His expression was rather stern, which would have been somewhat intimidating except that Ran was also shivering so hard that his teeth were chattering.

"K-k-ken! Why did you p-p-ick me up? I w-wasn't injured. It's a-amazing th-that I'm n-n-ot hurt now!"

Their eyes met for a few panting moments, and once more Ran fancied that Ken was about to flee. He made a sudden lunge for him and grabbed him around the waist, pulling them together.

And then, much more gently he asked, "Are you hurt?"

Ken spit out a small, slimy underwater plant which though banished, he continued to taste for several hours, a fitting punishment for idiocy in his mind. "Does my pride count?" he then inquired, words dripping chilled humiliation, and then bubbles, as he sank back down in the water a moment, up to the middle of his cheeks, and gurgled, regarding Ran with a half-lidded, shameful gaze. Then again, it would have been more shameful to expel the mud from his nose in full view of someone he had already very obviously failed to make a good impression on.

But he pulled up with a gasp at last, and confessed. "I don't know. You just looked so tired and I'm such an ass when it comes to being romantic and... I seriously, don't know!"

A long pause. Something chirped in his ear, made him jump and nearly fall backwards for an impending re-baptism, though instead he tugged at it and found a small frog which had evidentially confused his hair with a lily pad.

And then a long look to his beloved, his shaking and terribly ruined beloved. His soggy lamia.

He felt like he had crushed a water color someone had spent years working on.

"But I... I really am sorry, Ran."

This acknowledged or not, he slid his arm around the one that encircled him and dragged them both onto the bank, where they took no time to rue the rushes they had crushed, not the way the water, free of them, slid back to it's mirror and observed the moons alone now. Rather, they started trudging towards the path, shoes squeaking and hair dripping all the way.

"But believe me, I WON'T do it again!"

"Ever!"

Ok... this is really...

Something fell in one of the corridors above her. Something that sounded distinctly akin to an iron maiden or a collection of chains or some other such nonsense that somehow passed as art on Terra

...really...

Another moment to re-arrange herself on the impossibly small stool she had been given to perch herself on. Alone, in the middle of a vacant, dark room lit only by the two moons and their multitudes of reflections on the scattered mirrors about the walls.

...really NOT FUNNY!

Fiona had been waiting for over an Antiterran hour, she was sure. So sure as she had never been of anything in her whole life. Then again, she had, once, many, many years ago convinced herself somehow that life with Ysanne would be wonderful in every way.

And just look how that turned out, little missy!

But in that her whole existence, everything she was, everything she could pray to be. Everything... including why she sat alone in the audience chamber, awaiting a reply to her petition.

But the double doors swung back under two pairs of impeccably manicured hands. She'd seen no more of the guard girls... saw little of the mage who awaited her at first, for she manifested as a deeper darkness against the hall beyond. A shadow like an ink-relief in a CLAMP comic. Too complex to be certain.

"Fiona of Valdemar?" A long, brittle voice. Sensuous and smooth as any one of those looking glasses that surrounded her, and thus revealed, nuance by nuance, her final visitor.

"Yeah..." and the a flash of white in the mirror... a mirror among the many. Her bravado crumbled into sweaty embarrassment.

The woman before her wore a white mask -- something yanked from New Orleans -- static, sexy and caught with a rhinestone tear that happened to be red. Only one kind of mage worked in Winking Missies.

"I mean uh... yes, my liege."

The figure shrugged, and her eyes drowned in black, lips behind porcelain and ribbons, nothing else of her could be guessed. "What does it matter?"

"Well, you see, I wasn't umm... expecting... I mean... a mage who works for Su-dono taking up my little complaint."

"Does it... unnerve you?"

Lady, the room unnerves me, you fuckin' scare me, I fuckin' scare me, you know what? I think it's it a little late for that. "Maybe a little, ma'am."

"It need not. I have come to you in the name of what they might call mercy, on Antiterra. You need a favor, as do we, and luck places us here, together at the same time, craving each other like two young boys."

Fiona wanted to spit, but gulped instead. "So... I've been transferred?"

A harsh little laugh. "Not only transferred! You have been... released. You no longer are the property of Ysanne."

To this she gasped and mouthed a few quick curses of praise. Saw herself though, over and over, infinite praises for this dainty with its string. "What's the catch?" She asked at last.

"The catch? We can't let you go, Fiona of Valdemar. You know that. And besides, where would you take yourself in the shadow of our world? Nowhere. But we have found... a place. A small calling for you. Yes, you have been transferred, but I would not say that you are free."

A folded paper appeared from the folds of the mage's purple gown, one sealed with a blob of golden wax set with an owl and a sakura. A quick glance to the mask and Fiona ripped the thing apart.

Then she balked.

"You have got to be kidding me..."

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