New Warning! Character death, rape, graphic violence.  Ken and Omi are bad, bad boys.

Warning!  This is an adult fiction story.  If you are not legally an adult in your jurisdiction, go back now and enjoy the rest of this site. 

Warning!  This story contains yaoi (gay) relationships between male characters (KenxYouji, YoujixAya).  Explicit sexual situations, violence, angst and sap abound. 

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of various entities who own the rights to Weiss Kruez.  This is a work of fanfiction and an expression of our love for this wonderful anime series.

Part Five:

Humming something slightly out of tune, Youji's fingers ran down the length of Ran's bare back. He was doing more than touching, he was loving Ran with every inch of his soul, every piece of his heart, and every moment of life. He had never been one to get so sentimental, but Youji honestly couldn't help it.   After a few long moments of just holding onto his lover, his prized possession and his own possessor, Youji lifted the redhead as if he were a ragdoll and carried him very very carefully to the bed. Never had Youji realized how little sex mattered. He enjoyed holding Ran, and never wanted to let go.

Ran curled into Youji's arms and buried his consciousness in being with him. If Youji had wanted sex, then Ran would have given him all the passion in his soul. But for himself, at this moment, he just wanted Youji to hold him close, to feel his chest rise and fall, his heart beat, and to fully know the miracle of loving and being loved. He had never thought to receive such a gift, but he would accept it wholly and without question.

Youji petted Ran's hair and slept for five hours because the time difference is killer and thought Ran looked like a child while he slept and waited for him to wake up.

Although Ran was a restless sleeper and usually got only a few hours of sleep each night, he slept deep and long in the cradle of Youji's arms. Finally he began to stir, with a murmur of pleasure before he even opened his eyes, seeking blindly for Youji's lips.

All too glad to comply with Ran's wish, Youji lowered his face to put himself in range with Ran's mouth, sucking kisses hungrily from them. "Do you want to go out tonight and see London? Omi and Ken have a dinner booked for us at this hotel in two hours."

His eyes still closed, Ran nodded, his nose rubbing against Youji's. Reluctantly, he revealed the amethyst orbs, looking at his lover so close that his eyes crossed. He chuckled. "I don't know if I can handle two of you." He leaned back a little. "Shower?"

"Something better," Youji said, sitting up so that his hair lay against his shoulders. "There's a Jacuzzi here." He leaned back over his lover and kissed his forehead. "I'll go start it, and all you when it's ready."

Ran stretched luxuriously in the big bed while Youji readied the bath. He was ready for a meal. The food on the plane had been more amusing than fulfilling, and his belly was expressing concerns over being neglected. He knew he couldn't let his strength flag, the love making sessions alone took a lot of energy, and they had lots of sightseeing and shopping to do in the next two weeks. He admired the new ring, rubbing the tip of his finger over it and looking at the muted shine in the lamplight. He was glad Youji hadn't asked for the other one back, he would treasure both till the day he died.

After a very nice, very long bath in the Jacuzzi, both Youji and Ran dressed in their very best for the dinner that was waiting for them. Youji never felt heavier afterwards, the deserts sticking to his ribs like glue. London, Munich, and Amsterdam were all the same, but all magically wonderful. They shopped and ate and made love and nearly forgot who they were and what they would be going back to in only a week. The honeymooning life was boring, but Youji found each and every breath to be dreamlike and wonderful. It was in Venice that the magic broke and the honeymoon turned into terror. Youji first noticed their tail at the airport, familiar, but unplaceable. He kept turning up, nearly three times a day. When they made it to Venice, Youji decided to finally let on what he had seen to his lover, his eyes dark and set behind his glasses. Whoever it was knew who they were. And that in itself was dangerous.

"What does he look like?" Aya asked, making no effort to look for the tail himself. Youji's skills as a private detective made him much better suited for tailing and catching a tail.

"I'm not sure," Youji replied, sinking in against Ran as they rode down the canal. "Just....be careful."

Aya pondered that. It was easier said than done. It was a little late for tourist season, but there were still plenty of people sightseeing like them. And here in Europe the two of them stood out in any crowd, easily tracked and identified. Youji was armed, as always, with his harigane. But Aya's katana slept in the closet of the apartment they shared. Aya was good enough in hand to hand combat, but he couldn't deliver a killing blow barehanded if it came down to it. After they disembarked the boat, Aya kept his eyes open, but made no real effort to look for the shadow. If the enemy knew they had been "made" they would likely strike sooner.

After depositing Ran in the hotel room, Youji disappeared for almost eight hours. He knew almost no English and absolutely nothing of Italian, but he figured he had to try and move through the crowded, flooded, slowly sinking city to try and find something, ANYTHING about their tail. What he found out made him wish he had just stayed in that room with the redhead. He came back well after dark, his hair disheveled and hanging in his face. He wore a hat, an old fedora he had evidently bought from a streetside shop. He said nothing to Ran, just smiled a little, and slipped into the bathroom. He locked the door.

"Youji?" Aya asked after ten seconds. "What happened?"" He'd gone half mad with worry waiting for Youji to return, given very serious consideration to going out looking for him, only the worry that he would destroy any progress his lover had made keeping him bound in the room. Now Youji had come in looking odd and hidden away in the bathroom. Had something happened? Had he been hurt? Aya rattled the doorknob and said, "Open the door or I will."

"Let a guy take a dump, will yah?" Youji called, his voice just a little off. The water was running and the sound of tissues being pulled from their box was a clue to Ran. Youji wasn't using the toilet at all. It was his very first lie. "I'll be out in five minutes, I don't feel so good right now."

For better or worse, Aya thought, just before he shouldered open the door, breaking the small lock.

Hardly bothering to turn around, Youji finished dabbing at the long slash across his cheek, blood spattered in the white porcelain sink. Brown eyes, liquid chocolate, turned towards Ran, and then he smiled so very softly at the redhead in the mirror and began to wipe up the sink. He did so gingerly, holding his side. Blood was also dripped across the floor, and something that looked very much like the tag from his underwear lay in a pile of bloody tissues in the trashcan. "I'll be right out, okay?"

Mouth set in a familiar line, Aya came up behind him and took the rag from his hand. He turned the other man and began to efficiently clean the wound on his cheek, evaluating whether he would need stitches and if so, whether his own first aid training was up to the task. He said nothing, his old mask well in place as he watched his lover for signs of further injury. The ribs, yes, but the way he moved, it seemed there was more, that he was trying very hard to hide.

Youji smiles brightly for Ran. It was an old, very familiar emotion on his face. It was the old mask...the one Youji wore to seem as carefree as a child when he was dying inside. He pulled Ran close and laid his head on his shoulder as he leaned gingerly back against the sink. "I almost fell into the canal...tripped over my own two feet. I...was too embarrassed to tell you..." Lie number two.

Aya's eyes were flat and devoid of any emotion. He pushed Youji back against the sink, gently, and his long, slim fingers made quick work of the buttons of Youji's shirt. Using his fingertips, he pushed the shirt off Youji's shoulders and examined him for further injury.

Wincing despite the care, or maybe because of it, Youji braced himself for any words that might come from those lips he wanted only to lose himself in. His body was covered in scars that looked only too familiar. Claw marks, in sets of five. Youji yelped and pulled his shirt back over his wounds, his sudden movement opening more then a few of them back up again. "Can't you leave well enough alone?" Youji said, his voice raising above normal.

Pinioning him with an icy glare, Aya's hands moved to the fly of his pants. It was strange and disorienting. He’d treated Youji's wounds on a dozen occasions after a mission, and sometimes when he'd gotten himself into trouble outside of Weiss' work. Omi was best at it, but when Bombay wasn't available even ice cold Abyssinian was preferable to clumsy Siberian. And in the past few weeks he had often deftly opened the fastening to Youji's pants and tugged them down in an entirely different cause. But under neither context had he ever felt sick inside the way he did now. But this feeling wasn't alien or new. It was what he felt when he looked at his sister and thought of Taketori. That old snake vengeance was waking in his belly.

Hardly meaning to, Youji pushed Ran forcibly against the wall, knocking him painfully into the metal towel rack. Arms at his sides and his head down, the blond redid his pants and his shirt and stalked out of the bathroom and out of the suite. He needed a drink, and a time to think of a damned good excuse for what had happened.

Aya watched him go and knew that what he'd suspected had been right. He didn't understand what had happened and it killed him inside to know that Youji had no intention of sharing it with him. He leaned there against the wall, oblivious to the metal rod digging into his back, and tried to devise a plan. He didn't have the skills to backtrack on Youji's path. Even if they had been in Japan, he simply didn't know how to go backwards down the path of the past. So the only thing he could do was to track Youji's future, and hope that whoever had hurt him would be drawn back to his victim. Then he would kill him. It was a terrible plan, but it was all he had, so he pulled a black sweater over his head to match the darkness of his black jeans and made his way to the bar where he knew...

Youji would retreat. Seeing his lover slumped at the bar, he took a seat in the shadowed corner and let the waitress bring him coffee. In stillness, he watched as Youji drank more in one sitting than he had in all their time together.

Sometime an hour or so later, Youji dropped a large amount of lire on the bar and stumbled his way upstairs, any pain he was feeling completely deadened within an alcoholic daze. He found the room alone and called out for almost a complete minute for Ran. When it seemed the redhead was not around, Youji slipped into the bathroom to change into the one pair of silk, long sleeve pajamas he owned and crawled into the rich mahogany sleigh bed. Shivering, cold and alone, Youji hugged his pillow to his chest and watched the door with wide eyes.

Aya heard Youji calling out for him, and some part of him buried deep wailed to answer, but Aya shut it down. He waited till he was sure Youji had settled, then jimmied the lock to the janitor's closet and found a long shafted screwdriver.  It was a poor substitute for his keen edged katana, but it was the best he could do without losing sight of the door. He took up a place of concealment, folding himself into the space behind a large potted plant at the end of the hall opposite the stairwell and the elevator and waited with the calm patience of a predator.

Youji was the only thing that came at all to that hallway. The Bridal Suite was alone, and had its own private entrance and elevator. Unable to sleep, too drunk to know any better, Youji and a pillow from the bed came out of the room he shared with Ran and then curled up on the floor by the elevator. It was obvious that he was waiting for Ran, unable to do anything without him.

Abyssinian stared at the lonely form huddled by the elevator in dismay.  Balinese could be such a fool.  He would put himself in harm's way and then laugh about it afterwards, as if he were too addle brained to recognize danger.  But Abyssinian saw behind the laughter, recognized that hunger for oblivion from the mirror of his own soul.  He stared at the huddled figure for several minutes before deciding that his sorry attempt at a plan had failed utterly.  Where was Bombay when you really needed him?  Slipping the screwdriver through his belt loop like a child's sword, he unfolded from behind the pot and stood, scanning the hallway by main force of habit, and walked to where Youji was curled.  Still silent, everything he wanted to say lost again in a tumult of warring emotions, he reached under Youji’s arms and legs and hefted the other into his arms.  Youji was bigger than him and weighed more, and Aya had to carry him carefully to avoid aggravating his injuries.  But it wasn’t far to the room, and Aya staggered the short journey to the bed.

Sighing happily, as if everything was right with the world by Ran's simple presence, Youji ringed his arms around the redhead's neck, even when he was dropped neatly into bed and left there so that their door could be shut and locked and chained. "Ran, please," Youji whispered, holding the pillow to his chest as if it was the only thing that could keep him from crying out. What Youji needed right now was to be held. The blood in the bathroom could be cleaned up later. The room could be secured later. Whatever he had gone through, he needed Ran's arms to make it better. Not Aya's. But Ran's.

Somewhere inside Aya knew this. But with the deep cold knot of rage eating at him, he couldn't do it. He couldn't just wrap his lover in his arms and set it aside till morning. There was such violence in his heart at this moment he could scarcely sit still. But he gathered his will and leaned to stroke the tumbled locks of hair from Youji's face, trying to find a softer face but not really succeeding. Crossing his feet at the ankles, he leaned beside the head of the big bed and gave Youji his hand, the one with the rings, to hold while he stared at the door and tried to find the peace and calm he'd treasured so much only yesterday. He tried to keep the tension that corded his muscles from the hand curled in Youji's and waited for him to fall asleep.

Youji fell asleep not too long after he curled up at Ran's side and laid his head in his lap. He did not sleep quietly though. His words, unintelligible, flowed from his lips between bouts of moaning and sudden, quick bursts of wakefulness. By morning, Youji had settled in from his night mares and began to suffer from the hangover. One nasty, yellowish brown eye opened, his eyelashes crusting over, to peer up into Ran's face. He seemed to smile, only to let it fade. "I love you.." the words seemed harsh and forced, but they were not.

Once Youji was well asleep, Aya had undressed him and tended his wounds. He had only the small tube of antibacterial ointment he had brought along to tend his bite mark on Youji’s shoulder, and it was inadequate to the task but Aya did what he could with that and hot water. He never left the bedside for more than a minute and he kept the screwdriver close at hand in the event they fell under attack. When he had finished doing what he could to clean the wounds, he pulled the covers up tightly around Youji and, with a gentler hand, stroked the hair from his face. He was almost sorry to see the sun's grey light creep in the suite's windows, because the morning promised to be complicated and painful. When Youji opened his bloodshot eye and looked up at him, Aya could only offer him the smooth mask that he used to contain the tides of his emotions. Rather than let Youji's profession of love go wholly unanswered, he squeezed the other man's hand briefly before looking away, knowing his eyes would say more than he was prepared to face. Slipping his hand free, he lifted the phone and dialed room service. "Fruit, orange juice, coffee, tea and toast." he ordered tersely. He still stood beside the bed, ignoring muscles protesting from holding the position too long and stared at the door. He knew every minute imperfection on that smooth surface by now.

Ignoring the pain in his head and in his heart, Youji stumbled pell mell towards the bathroom to change. He had never done something like that... Gone away from Ran to change. But this...this demon in his lover's guise was not Ran. It was Aya, the murderer. The unfeeling, uncaring machine. Youji did not love the man in his room. He had only said what he had in hopes that he was speaking to the right man. Feeling utterly alone, Youji sank to the floor, fully dressed, and began to clean up the blood. His blood. Tired, afraid, and hardly understanding why he had let... No, he hadn't let. He had fought, and that had been the cause of all the bleeding. Tears in his eyes, because Youji had never been strong, he washed his hands and sat on the edge of the tub and sobbed.

Aya heard the wrenching sobs from the other side of the door and felt as if his soul were bleeding out. Youji had left him to go into danger alone, had lied to him, had broken the sense of trust and oneness that Ran had come to depend on. All the ground he had gained in learning how to express his caring and love for Youji had been lost and he was filled again with bleak self hatred. He listened to the man he would have gladly died to protect cry his heart out on the other side of the door, and could not break through his own walls to reach out to him. He laid his head against the bathroom door, palms flat against the wood, and wished he could cry too.

"I'd like to come out now," Youji whispered, leaning against the other side of the door, his hand to the knob. He didn't know what to do about what had happened between them, even when the redhead moved and Youji was able to leave the bathroom. His eyes were as red as Ran's hair, and not because of his hang over either. The band, the one that had signaled their marriage was slipped into the redhead's hand. "I'm going to find another place to stay until out flight back home. But...keep to the plans if you'd like." Youji's smile was empty as he picked up his suitcase. Aya could not trust him, could not let Ran slip back inside of him. And Youji, no matter how much he loved the redhead, could not bear to be near him any longer.

Aya had never taken a wound that hurt so much as that simple gesture. He stared at the ring in his hand as Youji took his suitcase to go, unable to process what was happening. Youji paused at the door but he didn't look up, remaining unmoving, unblinking, for minutes after he had left. Then he slowly sank to his knees, arms wrapped around himself, shaking as if caught in a blizzard. And still there were no tears.

When Ran made it back home, he would find only Omi waiting for him, a very small smile on his face for the redhead. Over the next several days, Omi would leak information about how Ken hadn't been around for almost as long as Ran and Youji. And that Omi was not at all surprised when the redhead returned alone. A week slipped by in slow motion, and still, there was no sign from Ken or Youji. It seemed that they had disappeared.

Aya was glad that Youji had called for Ken. He didn't want the man he loved to be alone, especially when he knew he'd been hurt so deeply, both by his mysterious attacker and by Aya himself. The swordsman moved though his days like a robot. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings. He barely showed up to the Koneko, and did not return to his sister's bedside or to classes. He spent the bulk of his time sitting alone in the darkness of his old apartment, allowing the emptiness to creep down deep inside his bones. His slim frame became gaunt, his eyes as vacant as a junkie‘s.

The call Ran received one day on his answering machine was ghostly and sorrowful. "Ran...please...please don't leave me here with.." Youji sounded as if he had not slept in days or even had anything at all to drink. Rasping, cried completely out, Youji continued to whine and beg for Ran until the machine beeped him off. By the time the message was checked, it was dated two days ago. With no word at all from Ken, it did not look good.

Aya took the tape to Omi. His deep voice was raspy with disuse as he demanded, "What is this?"

"That would be Youji-kun," Omi replied, hardly looking up from his rice as he listened to the tape again and again on loop. "Sounds like he's dying doesn't it?"

Amethyst eyes widened in disbelief as he slammed the youngest Weiss against the wall with fear driven strength. "WHAT?"

Gripping his chopsticks, and quite capable to use them as deadly weapons, Omi stared up into Ran's eyes. Neither would look away. "You left him there, so I don't see why it's my fault if he dies."

He left me. He left me. He left me. The mantra that had been on an endless loop in his mind roared at him but he ignored it. "Hidaka is there to look out for him." He stared into wide blue orbs which could look so innocent but which he knew were not innocent at all. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I told you every god damned thing you asked me. Ken left the day after you two left." Omi pulled out of Ran's grip, pleased to see recognition in those violet eyes. "He didn't leave when you two were having problems. He's been there the whole time."  How stupid could one person be, Omi wondered as he righted his chair and went back to his computer. Ken was a dangerous man, jealous of both Ran and Youji...and no one just orders up a complex 'honeymoon' for a couple he wishes he was a part of.

"Youji is your friend." Ran whispered. He had known the boy was a cold blooded killer, but when he had come into the group it seemed they were a family. Could he really care so little for Youji, or Ken for that matter? He backed slowly out of the room, as if he'd just discovered a cobra on the table. He ran to his apartment and grabbed the suitcase he hadn't bothered to unpack, stuffing his katana down into the folds of the larger one and his laptop into the carry on. He was in his car and driving within fifteen minutes.

Gazing out the window as Ran frantically made his way to his car, Omi just smirked and went back to his terminal. If Weiss killed each other, then really, his job would be so much simpler in the end... He was, after all, a Taketori.

Youji, hundreds of miles away, looked up at his captor, broken and bleeding and dying of thirst in a hotel bathroom. He could hardly see, blood dried in his eyes. He could hardly think, his mind had been as raped as his body. Only one thought went through his brain as he saw Ken's face in a mirror he was almost constantly staring at: 'I need to live to tell Ran I love him.'

Aya drove straight to his bank and withdrew the cash he had been saving for the next semester's tuition and books and headed for the airport. His visa for Europe was still good, so he had no trouble getting a plane ticket out that evening. He chewed his lip through the long flight, his stomach tied in knots. How could he have overlooked Ken's murderous jealousy? How could Youji not have known his best friend was capable of this? If Youji had died at Ken's hands while Aya believed he was safe in his arms---he bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He could only kill the man once. Too bad.

Unsure how long he had been there, Youji accepted the water when it finally came. Ken wanted him to cry into Ran's answering machine again, hoarse and thirsty, before he bothered trying to make sure his captive was alive enough to make his revenge on the redhead worthwhile. Youji ate fruit that burned his parched throat without reluctance right from Ken's hand, and then accepted his cock in his mouth. Youji felt as if this had been the drill for years. He had stopped fighting back a very long time ago, even when Ken cried his apologies and petted him and rocked him almost gently. "Don't worry," he whispered in Youji's ear. "As soon as I kill Aya, we can be together for real."

At the airport in Venice, the customs officials looked suspiciously at the katana in Aya's luggage. But he managed to put on the facade of the young college student, carrying his family sword to an Italian sword maker to get help in researching its ancient history. If it had been a firearm it would never have passed, but modern policemen tended not to take three feet of razor edged steel seriously. Aya depleted more of his fast vanishing funds to rent a car and then headed to the hotel where they had been staying. Youji had been allowed to make that recording. Hidaka wanted to be found. He was no detective, but he was confident he could track a quarry that had left a deliberate trail. Once at the hotel, he told them that he had forgotten an heirloom pocketwatch in the room when he'd stayed a week ago, he'd concealed it in the headboard of the bed as a surprise gift and forgotten it. Could he be let into the room to fetch it?

After being told that room was now occupied, but they would ring the current keyholder, the girl at the desk made a phone call and looked very bemused at Ran. "Senore says you may go up and retrieve it yourself."

Hidaka was waiting with his bugnuks, leaving Youji naked and bloody in the floor. "I have to go meet Ran now," he said, bending down to kiss lips that didn't have enough strength to even look disgusted. Somewhere outside, the elevator pinged. Tears slid down Youji's exhausted cheeks. Ran was here. He knew it by presence alone.

Aya hadn't dared hope Hidaka would be so obvious as to be staying in their room. He let his suitcases drop and tugged the katana free during the long ride up, preparing himself to the idea that he might be faced with an innocent honeymoon couple when the door opened, steeling himself to face a killer as honed as he. When the doors slid open, he was standing in a classic balanced pose, prepared for attack or even gunfire, although he expected Hidaka wanted the intimacy of blood on his hands after all this.

Staring at each other, Siberian let only a few heartbeats pass between them before he lunged for Abyssinian. Youji had been an easy target, even the first time he had gone after him. Youji loved Ken, felt responsible for what he was feeling, and even lied to the man he was in love with to protect Ken's initial 'mistake' in beating him and raping him. Youji, hearing the clash of metal in the entrance hall tried to call out for his lover. It sounded more like a moan.

Knowing that the buguks were much better suited to close quarters combat than his katana, Abyssinian charged straight at Siberian, blocking the initial attack and spinning past to gain the relatively larger space of the hallway.  Thin rivulets of blood trickled down his ribs where the claws had pressed his guard in far enough to slice across his sternum.  Abyssinian didn’t notice the minor wound any more than he noticed the faint cry from inside the open door to the apartment.  He was completely focused on his opponent in a match to the death.

Holding his ground, his eyes hardly human any longer, Siberian fell to a crouch just by the bed he had left covered with bloody sheets. As fierce as the Tiger was, and as insane, he still seemed as alert as ever. Insane could be very dangerous. They had had as much of their share of insane knife toting assassins in their days to fill up several life times. Catching the blade between his claws, Siberian tried to wrench it free from Abyssinian's hands. With his superior, manmade laboratory strength still in place, he could not hold off a lover's jealousy or worry or absolute anger.

Abyssinian knew all too well that he would not win any contest of strength with Siberian. He could not afford to lose the blade, so he let his body follow the movement and was sent crashing into the wall, staggering back with the blade still in hand. Not even taking a second to orient himself he whipped around and slashed a ragged furrow across Siberian's throat. The tiger had leaped after his prey and only kept his throat from being slashed when he had checked his advance and leaped back as the blade came around in its deadly arc. Snarling now, he circled the cornered swordsman, scenting the blood from the slash on his chest and where he'd slammed his face into the wall.

The battle continued for almost ten minutes, both sides gaining and losing ground, both inflicting wounds. It was when Youji came into view in one mirror that Siberian knew he had lost. He saw the look of hatred in Aya's eyes, the look of need for Ran in Youji's eyes...and just dropped his bugnuks and waited for the cold steel to slice through his body.

Although he had tried to blind his mind to it so he could focus on the fight, Aya had seen the blood on the sheets and had caught glimpses of Youji's broken body tossed carelessly on the floor. Without hesitation or regret, Abyssinian's blade bit deep into Siberian's throat, slicing cleanly through and releasing a familiar gout of brilliant blood. Aya stood until the body fell and stopped twitching before he turned and stumbled to Youji's side.

Hardly seeming to notice anything else but Ran, Youji's eyes blood red from popped blood vessels, he tried in vain to sit up and cover himself too. "I waited," he whispered, his voice as raw as his throat. Sitting up seemed to be impossible. Ken had done some immense damage to him in his haste to try and make Youji his and only his. Youji didn't cry. He didn't have tears enough left for that. Instead, he merely pressed his hand to the underside of Ran's arm and closed his eyes.

Aya bowed his head over his lover and then found his feet and got to the phone. He dialed the emergency number for Kritiker and, in the space of ten words, informed Manx that Ken was dead, Youji critically injured and in need of immediate trauma care. Then he went back to where Youji lay and carefully slid underneath of him, leaning him against his own chest and cradling his head on his shoulder.

Hardly strong enough to keep his own head raised, Youji slipped his arms with great effort around Ran's neck and smiled against his throat. He refused to let go of Ran when the Venice Chapter of Weiss infiltrated the room with a stretcher to tote Youji unnoticed into a waiting van for shipment to their own version of Magic Bus. Ran rode beside him in the van, Youji's hand in his, his thumb constantly rubbing over his bands.

Ran held Youji's hand tight between his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss on it as they arrived at the hospital and he was torn from Youji's side as they rushed him into emergency care. Ran sat numbly while they dressed and stitched his own wounds, and then found a chair outside the room where they worked on Youji to wait. He felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a cliff, with nothing but darkness below.

Over three hours later, one very tired looking doctor stepped out of the room to inform Ran that Youji had lost a lot of blood and was suffering from shock. With the Japanese Branch of Kritiker's okay, they went ahead and spruced Youji up, just as they had done to Ken so many years go. They did not go through all of the things they had added, it would have taken hours to explain Youji's night vision and laser eye repair and the skin-like plastic they had used to line his bowels that would now excrete a lubricated oil to save him from pain if he should ever be raped again. They neglected to tell Ran about Youji's new spring-like strength, or about the huge portions of a cancer filled lung they replaced with new organs. Ran was allowed into Youji's static free room after he had agreed to a dressing gown.

Youji looked far more lovely then he ever had. His eyes were now permanently green, a gift from Manx, his skin almost porelessly soft.

Ran stood by the bed, eyes downcast, uncertain what kind of reception he could expect. All of this was his fault. If he'd followed Youji, pressed him for answers instead of sinking into depression, then none of this would have happened. If he'd listened to that answering machine message sooner, he could have saved the other from two days of torture. If he'd just kept his mouth shut and let Youji lie to him in the first place... It was all his fault. He stood by the bed, twisting his hands in front of him like a school child caught in bad behavior and awaiting punishment, the band on his left hand a match for the larger that had circled his right thumb for the past week. He waited in silence to hear what Youji would have to say to him, dreading the disappointment and blame he would see in his eyes.

Warned that without practice, his very touch could hurt another person, Youji smiled brightly at his lover and kept his hands flat on the bed beside him. "They told me that my strength is too much right now to touch you but..." The look in Youji's eyes were a reflection of love and want and sorrow for having walked out in the first place. "Ran..." His voice was softer now, more comforting.  More velvet.  More sexy. "Ran...don't just stand there," he whispered, eyes filling with tears. He needed to know that it could be okay again.

Ran raised his eyes, slowly, slowly, to meet those of the man he loved. The amethyst was dark with misery and self hatred, his normally cool mask bleak with despair. "Youji." his lips shaped the name, his voice not brave enough to make it past his lips.

"I don't want Aya," Youji said, his lips curving slightly in a frown, full of worry. "I want my redhead back." Youji raised one of his hands, palm side up, for Ran to put his hand upon, or hold if he wanted to. "I want my Ran to come back and give me two weeks worth of kisses I've been without." His lips trembled as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Ran flinched at the first words that left his mouth, but the ones that followed left him trembling. Was it possible Youji still wanted him? He hadn't even dared to hope for such a thing, all his hopes had been focused on Youji's survival and recovery. Setting just his fingertips on the palm of the proffered hand, Ran whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You saved me." Youji smiled at that and scooted over a little for Ran to sit in the curve of his waist if he wanted to. "You saved me twice," he continued, wanting so badly to hold Ran's hand, but not wanting to hurt him. Therapy would take care of him mastering his new strength but... "They found cancer in my lungs," Youji said softly, smiling up at Ran. "If this hadn't happened I'd have died from it."

"I killed him." Ran confessed, standing as he had been, one hand resting lightly across Youji's. Ken had hurt Youji horribly, but he'd also been his friend and lover. He wasn't sure how Youji would feel about it, or if he already knew, but if he was going to be accepted back by Youji, this needed to be aired.

"Yeah, I know." Youji wasn't sure he even wanted to remember what Ken had done to him. His downfall had been his ability to forgive the wrongs dealt to him. If Ken hadn't have died, Youji would have accepted him back...and if Youji had accepted him back, Ken's next move would have been to kill him. "It doesn't matter anymore. He was insane, Ran...you did him more good with his death then you would have letting him live. Now...you owe me those kisses." Youji tried out a smile and found not only was it natural, but he meant it.

A fine line appeared on his brow and he looked at Youji doubtfully. Unlike the blonde, Ran was rigid and unforgiving. He couldn't process the fact that Youji was simply going to welcome him back with literally open arms after all that had passed. The grief in his eyes had given way to confusion. He could think of nothing to say, no way to voice the questions half formed in his mind, and so he leaned down and very gently brushed his lips over Youji's.

Though his body was stronger than god had made it, Youji's lips were still tender and warm. Exactly as Ran had remembered them to be. Youji downright purred into Ran's mouth as his tongue wet the seal of their lips and his upper body lifted from the bed to force more contact with his lover. Youji couldn't tell how long they held the kiss, but he was breathless in the end, his head cradled in the pillow. "I lost my ring, Ran," he said as he raised his bright green eyes to meet his lover's gaze. "I was an idiot and lost it."

Ran closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling as if he would fly apart. He lowered his head to Youji's chest, barely touching him for fear of disturbing his wounds and tried to remember how to breathe. Finally he raised his head again and answered in a deceptively calm voice, "Don't worry, I found it." He held up his hand, showing Youji the ring on his thumb. "I've kept it safe for you."

Raising his hand again from where he had laid it gently across Ran's shoulders, Youji's eyes sparkled with love. "I knew you would...I never lost faith in you," he whispered as the Italian Kritiker nurses gathered around to watch without understanding the words. Leaning down to catch Ran's lips, Youji smiled as the band was returned to its rightful place. "Well...look at it the bright way...we have a free week's vacation in Italy..." Youji seemed to be back to normal. "Sure, it's gonna be a pain in the ass with me being in physical therapy, but you can go out and buy me lots of things!" Youji pointed to the drawer at his bedside. Over five times as much as Ran had spent getting to him was in an envelope in that drawer. Youji had kept it safe.

Finally beginning to believe that his world was filling with light again, Ran melted carefully onto the bed beside Youji, only a centimeter of careful space separating their bodies on the bed. Completely ignoring the cooing nurses, he laid his face into the curve of Youji's arm and closed his eyes. He would rest there a while, and let his weary body and soul find some comfort before he tried to process all the things that had come to pass.

With his arms loosely wrapped around Ran's smaller body, Youji tucked his head in beside Ran's and kissed his forehead and his temples and even the very tip of his nose, so happy was he that he was back in Ran's good graces. He was afraid, very afraid, that Ran would never come back. That he had made Aya so strong as to never let poor Ran back into his own body. "I love you," he whispered, grinning as he heard one of the nurses say in Italian (which he now understood, thanks to the doctors), "Aishiteru...that means I love you!" It was followed by squeals.

Ran rolled his eyes a little at the audience participation and returned the sentiment.  “I love you.”  he whispered,  then went on to speak the words engraved on the inside of Youji’s ring.  “Till death.”  He raised his head to look up at his lover and added, ‘and beyond.”

The week went by without hitch. Youji would disappear for half a day with some doctors and army personnel to learn to use his new-found powers without hurting anyone when he wanted to be gentle. Youji would send Ran out with a nurse that spoke Japanese to go shopping during these times, and they would come back with bags and bags of Gucci and almost no dent on their cash supply. Every night, Youji would curl up with Ran and try very very hard to touch him without hurting him. The first few nights left Ran bruised, but it was not long after before Youji could make love to him like a normal man without causing more pain than usual. "How do you want to spend our last day together in Italy?" Youji asked as Ran opened his eyes and smiled at him.

Like this, was Ran's first thought, but they had a lifetime--whatever that meant --to spend cuddling, and only one day in Italy. He thought about it for a few minutes and finally answered, "We could rent a convertible, go driving in the country. There are some old Roman ruins a few hours drive from here where we could have a picnic." He looked up at Youji to see if he liked the plan.

"Great! You bring the pee-jar and I'll get Maria to get us a lunch together." Maria was the nurse that had been keeping Ran occupied while Youji learned to better kill, and to be gentle. Very quickly Youji had grown from a man that spent two weeks being raped and starved back to his good old perverted self. He dressed quickly and kissed his lover and then set out to sweet talk some of the nurses. He had not yet told Ran that he could speak Italian...or English...or Chinese or German or French or...yeah.

Ran let Youji think he was keeping his secrets, although it was obvious that Youji had been ...changed by the surgeons. He'd had the bruises to show for it. But he would never challenge Youji on a lie again. So he smiled and kissed his lover and got on the phone to arrange for a car to be brought to the hospital.

Hardly wanting to lie, but not wanting to hurt Ran by letting him know what sort of freak he currently was, Youji went on about his business, covering up as much as he could. The day they spent together was fabulous. The grass seemed greener in Italy, and laying down on it without a shirt was comforting. They played tag in the ruins, ate a picnic beneath a huge bending tree, and made love under the pure blue sky. Tomorrow, Youji knew, they'd return to Omi.  And their old life.

Relaxing as twilight approached, Ran looked down seriously at Youji, tugging on the wild onion he had clenched between his teeth. He'd been trying all day to think about how to broach this subject, and in the end he really just wasn't any good with words. Actions were his forte. So he spoke bluntly. "Omi isn't your friend, Youji. He knew and didn't tell me." He regarded his lover seriously, sad to have to darken this beautiful day but wanting to have this conversation out from under Kritiker's watchful eye. He'd been afraid to talk about it at the hospital, and he wasn't confident their apartments were clean either. This was his best chance to have this discussion with no one but them listening.

Raising his eyes brows, Youji regarded Ran with a sad expression on his face. First Ken, now Omi...would Ran too turn on him as Asuka had done in the end? Retrieving the stalk so rudely ripped from his mouth, Youji sighed and turned his eyes up to the clouds. "I didn't expect us to live forever anyhow," he said softly, looking for shapes among the white. "I just didn't expect us to really kill ourselves."

Ran's mouth tightened. "I don’t know if it's only him or all of Kritiker. I almost brought Aya when I came, but I couldn't work out getting her on an international flight without a passport and I was afraid to leave her hidden in Japan." He didn't say that he'd planned to kill Ken, get Youji and return in secret to steal Aya and flee. Youji had been too badly hurt and had needed Kritiker's medical resources to live. "I never had any illusions, but I thought they valued us as assets. Do you think it's possible Manx knew as well?"

Closing his eyes, Youji breathed in the grass without answering and then sat up. "It doesn't matter, they're going to be here for us in a few hours. What would you like to do until then?" Youji pointed at his left ear without looking at his lover. Reconstructing Youji evidently meant that they had inserted a microphone. And probably a camera too. Why? Youji had been told it was to make sure they were okay on missions. Ken had had the last one, and now without him, Youji would have it.

Ran became very still. Even though he knew that Youji had been altered by the surgeon’s it hadn’t occurred to him that his lover had been bugged. He rolled over to stare at the sky beside Youji, to hide the blush that crept over his face when he thought about all the times they had made love since the surgery. "There was a ristorante in that village at the foot of the hill that had a patio with a waterfall. Maybe we could have some dinner there?"

Smiling, Youji nodded and collected their things before he leaned over kissed Ran with all his being. He had no idea what was going to happen to them, but it probably was their lives that were going to pay for all of their mistakes and sins. Half an hour later, enclosed in a private booth, Youji fought back tears as he ate and talked of memories in a soft voice. He did not cry for himself, but for Ran, and this disaster.

Some of the stillness of Aya had come over Ran as they drove to the restaurant. He reminisced with Youji, and spoke of their future with Weiss, whether they would be assigned a new team member, who from among the other Kritiker teams might be assigned to them. How to deal with the fact that they couldn't be sure of Omi any more. Making plans to visit Aya in the hospital, dropping the fall classes he was failing due to his prolonged absence and registering for the spring semester. He even made a small joke about asking Manx for a note to be allowed to drop his classes without penalty to his grades at this late date. He held Youji's hand, and his eyes were calm.

When the Weiss agents that had brought him to the hospital gently asked for them not to make a scene as they were taken, Youji spoke in a soft Italian to them. They said nothing back, but he only smiled at his lover as tears rolled down his face. They drove for who knew how long, locked in the back of a windowless van. Youji held onto Ran, saying little but words of love as he stroked his hair and kissed his hands and face. He was not allowed to watch Ran's execution. It didn't matter, anyhow. They had been plans for Youji, you see? They had bigger plans for him than they had had for Ken before Ran killed him. Youji, with all of his 'better' parts was going to be reprogrammed to be the killer they always knew he could be...with no conscience, no regret, and no memory of love.

The Not-So-Happy Ending…maybe

(Characters are never dead unless you see a body.  And sometimes not even then.)

Endnote:  I hope you enjoyed this.  Hopefully it wasn't obvious, but this was written as a role-playing game on Yahoo chat over the course of several weeks.  I was roleplaying Aya and Jennifer played Yohji.  The writers alternate pretty much paragraph by paragraph.  I thought it came out very well in light of the fact that Jennifer and I have never met in person.  Perhaps I will one day write the sequel for this story that lingers in my mind.

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Last updated: 03/21/03.