24:Red


Set somewhere between episodes 3 and 15.

- Thanks to Patricia for doing the beta bit


I

Ten Hours, Eleven Minutes

The night was cold, shadows grey. Only one lamp was lit in the mission room in the basement. The winding stairs almost hidden in darkness. The air was cold but they didn't notice.

Aya had patched him up the best he could. Rinsed the glistening, red wound on Yohji's forehead. Removed the stitches, didn't want to...seal death, wanted the entrance clear and open. In case that a miracle, a solution, would choose to appear. It didn't seem likely though as the night went on. Not even Kritiker's best surgeons couldn't fix this problem. They were tricky like that, evil geniuses, they always knew something you didn't.

The two assassins in the basement had however agreed: give Omi and Ken the night to track them down and remove the threat, if they hadn't made by morning, Yohji would go to a hospital. Although they knew all there was nothing they could do, as the bomb in Yohji's head would go off if touched.

They had seen it happen to victims; several politicians and businessmen over the last few weeks. Forty eight hours from surgery, when the victims had returned to their senses and went on with their lives. Praised themselves lucky that nothing worse had happened. No beating, no torture, just a scratch on the forehead and a few hours of memories lost. Nothing much, really...then the bomb would go off...Leave no evidence since none had been seen, the actual murder took place far from the scene.

They had done a sloppy job with Yohji though. The wound had needed stitches. Sloppy because Weiss was knocking down their doors. They had fled...With timer in hand and a last triumphant look at the three standing knights the doctor in charge had done a Takatori and managed to escape from the roof with a helicopter. - And Yohji had only Forty eight hours left to live. Or so they had thought...

The first eight he had spent sedated. They had kept him in the old, abandoned hospital, afraid to move him until Kritiker's doctors had seen him. Omi had looked through stacks of paperwork, searched for clues...answers...notes...What he had found had been horrible, but no doubt true:

" The bomb was altered. They're trying to fool us, take us by surprise. He has twenty four hours, that's all."

Twenty four hours. Twenty four red.

Yohji's eyes when he realized what had happened: Wide, black...shallow. Like a veil had been pulled , kept them all out for once. Black oil on stormy ocean. A glistening layer, a surface, a shield - that kept all the turmoil, the horror - inside.

"Why didn't they just shoot me?"

Omi looked down at the tip of his shoes. Uneasy, close to crying.

"If we were with you...when...when it happens...happened. It would have taken us all out."

"I would have killed you?"

"*They* would!"

He had wanted to be alone then. Didn't trust the mechanics working in his brain. Didn't want to endanger them.

"I'll go after them." he said.

"And do what?" Aya's cold sarcasm cut through the air. "We need Omi to disarm it..."

Then he had decided to go home. Go home and prepare he said, promised to find a deserted beach, a lonely place before the bomb went off.

Nobody agreed on that.

"Aya, you go with him!" Omi's voice was stern.

"Absolutely not!" Aya had protested. "I want to hunt them down!"

" He can't be alone!" They stood alone in the corridor of the hospital, blue crossed purple, none of them willing to back off.

"Then Ken can go with him, or Manx can baby sit."

A slap in the face and the little blond spat:

" You're so cold, I can't believe it! And Ken is the best one we got for silent operations now that Yohji is out. You and your katana just take too much space, make too much noise!"

" And what am I supposed to do?" Aya had argued. " Just sit there, hold his hand and watch the clock?"

" Maybe that's all he needs." Omi had given him a strange look. "Some compassion, Aya...It doesn't hurt!"

And so he had returned with Yohji. Both of them apparently silent and composed but Aya's hands shook when he unlocked the backdoor to the store.

They had scrambled through the darkness and down the stairs. Lighted only one lamp, didn't need more. Burgundy leather and katana fell to the floor. Yohji's blue coat in a chair. The white crosses shone in the darkness, bright and mockingly. His sunglasses lay on top of it, reflecting the shadows.

Aya went to the bathroom, dropped the first aid kit to the floor when he lifted it off the shelf, had to lean against the wall for a minute to calm down before entering the mission room again, face the man sprawled on the couch: Eyes dark and emotionless - looking old, Aya had thought. Older than he was, as if his tormented soul finally surfaced, showed off his true age faced with death.

"Do you want something? Tea?" Aya asked, insecure. Of all the missions he could get...

Yohji smiled slightly. "Don't bother, Aya. I wont feel any better. And you...you shouldn't be here with me. Get out!"

"Omi has a couple of clues, they might find them in time." Aya wet his lips nervously, stood helpless on the floor. Black shirt and jeans made him blend with the shadows. Only the dangling earring gave him away, twinkled in the dim light as he moved.

"And if there's something wrong with it? Never trust mechanics, Aya, it could be defective..."

"Do I fear death, Yohji? " Aya interrupted.

"No, and I guess that's why *you* are the one babysitting me as well."

Aya had smiled then. A thin, bitter smile. It was only right wasn't it? Made sense, that the one that was already dead in so many ways, was the one sent in to deal with the fire. Although *this* he wasn't quite sure he could handle.

"It wont go off," he assured the other. "Those people are professionals."

Yohji had stared at him for a minute,

"You can still leave, if you like..."

"Do you want me to?" Aya replied and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Forced himself to look the other in the eyes.

"This is not exactly your area of expertise is it, Aya? Holding a doomed man's hand," Yohji's voice was calm. His gaze seemed to burn through the room.

"I'll manage." Aya swallowed hard, tried to smile. Busied himself with the first aid, cleaning the already sterile wound.

"I'm not helpless, you know," Yohji looked tired, but smiled now.

"Better I do it." How could he explain he tried to wipe it off, erase evil's fingerprints, make him clean. and whole again? Recreate the laughing, flirty, witty and unbearably annoying Yohji. Find him under the thick layer of resignation beyond fear. This dull shadow, the presence of an already dead man.

Hours passed slowly and all too fast, they talked about the mission. Made guesses about Omi and Ken, where they were, what they were doing... Manx came in to check on them before hurrying back, helping out in her own way. Looking up doctors, bomb experts...Aya caught her in the hallway before she left.

"Is there nothing I can do?" he asked.

"Just be with him, Abyssinian. That's all." Manx's eyes glimmered in the dark. Looking concerned and serious. She lifted her hand as to touch him, then she let it fall back down.

"Isn't there someone else you can ask?"

"No..." Manx voice was suddenly stern. "It has to be you - this time."

Aya and Yohji were on their own again. The phone on the table before them. Both of them nervously watching the clock. Evil black digits, a painfully slow dance. Yohji wanted a drink, Aya got it for him. He smoked, then he threw up. Maybe from the medication, maybe from the beer...or the simple fact that he knew.

Aya admired him. So calm and composed. Pale, yes...but still... This man had courage, this man was strong. Or just as empty as he was. Naked, with nothing left to lose.

Six Hours, Fifteen Minutes
Yohji sat up in the couch. Playing with the watch on his wrist.

"I'm not going to...sum up my life," he said. "Or force you to listen to my favorite music while I cry..."

"We can do that if you like," Aya offered. Standing on the floor after having called Manx for the fourth time since she left.

"No I don't, " Yohji smiled. "Past is past and I have few regrets. There's just one thing that I never, completely have come to terms with..."

Aya said nothing, this was something new. So far they'd only spoken of the mission, Weiss, even the flower shop...Nothing personal as he had feared, nothing like this.

"Have you ever...woken up one morning and realized you're in love with a man?" Yohji asked him.

"Yohji!... I'm hardly the right person to hear your confessions..." he tried to make the words soft, not so harsh, so scared. But his mind drifted back to his pre-Aya days and vague memories of long nights, tossing and turning in his bed, feeling ashamed and confused. They came alive after years of being hidden and forgotten. "I...have you?" he said without thinking. Mind somewhat clouded by the pressure, the situation.

"...Yes...I have..." Something dreamy came into the blond's gaze, as if he saw Aya through a fine film of something, memories or dreams.

"You don't mind me finding that hard to believe do you? Considering the games you play, all the women involved." Aya smiled at him.

"No, I don't mind," Yohji's voice came lazy...tired, probably exhausted from trying to keep things together. Talking was probably good Aya figured. Probably good and necessary...

Yohji's voice continued. "Are you jealous?" The lean man smiled, a faint sparkle in his green eyes, at least that was something Aya thought, then the words sank in...

"No!" he blurted out. " I have no interest in them."

"No," a pale smile formed on Yohji's lips. Aya could see the pulse throbbing fast and heavy on his throat. "Are you jealous of *them*?" he asked lowly.

"No!" Aya turned his head swiftly, ear-tails flying, amethyst orbs filled with sudden lightning.

"So I thought." Yohji said undisturbed. Pale and tired, watching the clock, counting the minutes. "Aya," he said after a while. "Would it be so bad?"

"What?" Aya shook his head in confusion, arms still crossed in front of his chest.

"Sometimes, you're so stupid...!" Yohji lay back down on the couch, forearm flung over his eyes. Shielding them, him, from the room, from him, while he spoke. "I woke up one morning realizing I was in love with a man. A beautiful, cold man - with a genuine heart," he said and swallowed hard.

Aya dropped down in a chair, facing him.

"What happened?" he asked, while his heart involuntarily set up the pace. He noticed he'd leaned forward, knuckles white and clutched to his chest.

"Nothing!" Yohji smiled, showing off rows of white, even teeth. "I never found the courage..."

"When - when was this?" Aya's voice seemed to somehow fail him, came out hoarse and frail.

"A while ago," came the calm answer.

"But you got over it, right?" This, - this was perhaps the most...unexpected piece of information...the most...and why did his heart thunder in his chest? A stir of emotions, taste of panic on his tongue.

The man on the couch lowered his arm, twinkling, green gems shone brightly towards him;

"No, I never did," he said. "I still love him."

"No!" It was a outburst, he hadn't meant to.

"Aya, relax, I wont... I just wanted you to know, that's all." Yohji sighed. "Although it would be nice if you would kiss me, before I die."

Aya rose from his chair, sent it across the floor and into the wall with a loud crash.

"You're kidding me, right?!" He wasn't angry, just shocked. And his heart kept racing, his hands shook.

"Am I?" Yohji voice came low. Green eyes dark now, a gaze that didn't falter when they met the cool purple of the other.

"What is this?" Aya's never resting suspicion awoke,"Let's see if Aya is gay day?"

"You stupid, kid..." Yohji dropped his gaze. His voice was still low, calm, tired. A faint hint of bitterness and hurt. " I'm about to die, right? Would I spend my last minutes probing into my team mate's sexuality? You're so stupid." he shook his head again.

Aya didn't hear the stupid comments, neither did he hear that Yohji called him a kid. Only the message came through: Yohji said he loved him, had done so for a while, and there was no reason not to believe him, or so it seemed. The idea was so fresh it burned with intensity, too ripe to touch, yet. So he archived it swiftly for future examination. Every minute counted, he didn't have time for thinking. Still it made sense though, now...that he was the one to be with him. Another thought came drifting in; the request...What Yohji had asked of him: could he deny his friend and brother in murder this last, final wish and live on? His mind worked fast, in a few hours it would be too late. Did he *want* to deny it? He looked at the charming, handsome man on the couch. Didn't he, deep down, *want* to kiss him? Another thought archived for the future. Now was now. Here and now. Reality glazed with razor sharp angles.

"I'll kiss you," he said. Refused to think further...refused to face implications. The minutes were so precious. If he could make the last ones better then so be it. A softness like the one he felt for Aya-chan came over him as he looked down at his pale team-mate. That, and a sudden acknowledgement of his beauty...his charm. He had always known that Yohji was all that, just never formed it into a thought before, dressed the knowledge in words. Now he moved over, settled on the couch beside him. Refused to think of what he was doing; like on a mission: Move in, do the deed, move out - it couldn't be worse than that, he figured. Just...do it.

"Really?" Yohji's voice and face had softened and his eyes searched out the red-head's again. "Thank you, Aya," he smiled. Still with that tired expression...Aya wished he could wipe it away, instead he tilted his head, leaned down and pressed his lips softly to the other's. Closed his eyes when he felt his lips and was instantly shocked by the scent and the warmth. He hadn't been so close to someone for...so long. Yohji smelled of rich masculinity, spices and a fait scent of musk. Salty tinge from the shed perspiration, his lips were dry but still silken and smooth, he could feel Yohji's breath brush his cheek.

A hand came to curl around his neck. Long, slender fingers closed around the back of it, pulled him closer, held him in place. Aya fought it for a second, then he relaxed...

He was about to end it, withdraw, when Yohji's tongue slipped out between his lips, licked swiftly across Aya's, made him part them in surprise. And then it was a kiss-a kiss for real. Yohji's tongue moved inside his mouth, twined with his own, slid against it, slowly, tasting. Touching the virginal space of Aya's mouth. All the time while pressing him closer, holding him tightly. His other arm curled around Aya's waist, as if making sure he wouldn't go away. Aya opened his eyes for a moment, saw glimmering green look up at him, a blush in Yohji's cheeks, then he closed them. Lowered his lids, afraid to see, face reality. Just feel, this touch, this warmth of the other. He heard a whimper and a moan, realized it was himself. Realized it, as hot, boiling sensations flooded his body. Made his lips pound, his body tingle. His groin stiffen -all in one swift wave. The kiss did all that, made his body react, his head spin fast. Dangerously so.

"Aya...?" Yohji broke off the kiss, spoke in awe while watching the panting man above him. Aya kept his eyes closed. His breathing came heavy, his body slightly shivering.

"Aya..." Yohji said again and run his fingers through his short, red hair. "Take off your shirt," he whispered. " Please..."

Aya did it as in a haze, still with eyes half-closed. Pulled it swiftly over his head and growled when Yohji's warm hands replaced the fabric, kept the cool air at bay with passionate strokes.

"You're so beautiful, " the blond spoke, fingers crossing planes of creamy skin, hard columns of muscle.

"Kiss me again," Aya breathed and Yohji took hold of his side and rolled him over his body, rolled them both over until he rested between Aya's legs, chest to chest. Then he kissed him, deeper now, while his hands roamed the red-head's sides, marveled at the smoothness, the perfection. His lips left Aya's mouth to trail down his pale throat, press soft, moist kisses to every curve, every angle.

"Oh god," Yohji whispered. He moved down Aya's chest...caught a rosy nipple between his teeth, flicked his tongue across it and moaned himself when Aya's hips jolted upwards, arousal apparent, pressing against his own. Aya's hands clutched at his shoulders, the younger man wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, fresh perspiration sprouted on his skin.
Yohji paused to pull the short tank top over his head, slid his naked chest against Aya's. Noticed the difference in color and build. His own nipples dark plum to Aya's pale pink. Aya's hands moved on his back and Yohji kissed him again. Deep, savoring kisses, hungry and sweet.

Suddenly he rose off him, sat back, straddling his legs. Aya opened his eyes then...saw Yohji on top of him, wound glistening in the dim light, hair unruly and skin softly shimmering. The emerald of his eyes hooded and dark. And the beautiful expression on his face...like he wasn't really there, but caught in a dream. His lips were moist with saliva, slightly swollen from the kissing. His long fingers reached down between them and ripped Aya's jeans open, made him jolt and squirm and ache as his erection sprang free, painfully hard and steadily leaking beads of clear liquid. Aya clenched his teeth to stifle the moan when those same slender fingers closed around his shaft.

"I'm not going to ask..." Yohji said hoarsely, "if you say no, you're lying."

Aya just whimpered and turned his head, afraid that he would end it too fast it if he looked too long.

"Do it," he said through gritted teeth, fighting and riding off the pangs of pleasure that flooded his body when Yohji started to move his hand, stroking his shaft slowly. Hhe heard faint sounds and then a new sensation. A hard, silk-wrapped member came to play with his own. Rub against his, guided by Yohji's hand. Pearls of milky liquid glued them together, spread across their arousals and Yohji's fingers as he moved.

Aya burned with electric intensity, every nerve ending was alert. Pleasure so intense it was as if he'd lost control of his body. Found himself in a different reality, another world where his being was just this: Pleasure, taste and touches.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Yohji's voice was just a whisper.

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation, a strangled voice, broken and lost. A glance at Yohji's face again, lips slightly parted, hooded eyes. His muscular, lean chest rose and fell heavily. The members in his hands like precious toys, still pulsing hotly against each other.

Aya arched his hips upwards and struggled to get his jeans over his hips, he might be a virgin and not sure what to do in situations like this, but he did know how to undress. He felt Yohji adjust, his weight shift and settle on top of him to give him space to move, wriggle out of his boxers and jeans, settle back naked, watch as Yohji did the same. Tight pants disappeared, revealing long limbs, slender and slightly tanned. Aya curled his legs around Yohji's, arched up to grind his hips against his. Feel the hard flesh between them. Yohji's was longer than his, but not as thick. Aya bit his fingers, felt Yohji lower himself down to rest fully on top of him again. Lick and nibble at his neck.

"How could I not fall in love with you," his voice was thick, trembling slightly. Aya moaned and spread his legs wider. Guided by this urge, a need he hadn't felt in ages, still under his own demand; don't think -that left only feel...and he felt, as he spread his legs and pulled Yohji closer, covered his mouth with his own, ate at it greedily, lapped at his tongue.

Yohji's fingers trailed the cleft between his buttocks, probing slightly. Aya wanted to ask if *he'd* done it before but found he had lost his voice, couldn't be bothered summoning the energy to build a coherent sentence. Instead he wriggled the finger in place, pushed when Yohji did, met his finger half way, impaled himself on smooth knuckles.

Yohji's hands shook he noticed. The man was constantly wetting his lips, when said lips weren't busy elsewhere, ravishing Aya's mouth and nipples, tracing his collarbone...sucking at his ear lobe...His left hand reached over to the table, scrambling around in the first aid kit before returning with a tube of sorts in his hand. With his eyes fastened on Aya's face he squeezed a good amount of salve into his palm and rubbed it over his arousal. Aya dropped his gaze, took in the scene, felt his toes curl and pleasurable shivers run down his spine by the sight of the thick creamy substance being smeared over the smooth, hard flesh. Knowing where it was headed, what it's target was. And then it pushed hot and heavy against his entrance, Yohji's fingers were there first, smoothing the way, stretching his flesh. It hurt, God it hurt...

"Virgin?" Hot breath.

"Yes..."

Yohji sighed. "Oh Aya, I don't know if I can wait much longer."

"Don't. Wait..."

"But..."

"Don't Yohji, please." His voice sounded young, disturbingly young and fragile.

And Yohji pushed his way inside, painfully inch by inch. Aya bit his lip, closed his eyes and fought the tears, took pleasure in the comforting grip Yohji held on his arousal. Played with it, teased him. Kept him hard and wanting despite the painful intrusion.

They were lucky; Yohji hit home by the second thrust, sent cascades of pure bliss rippling through Aya's body, made him cry out by the sheer feel of it; almost painful in it's intensity. From there on, it was good. Very good. As Aya's muscles relaxed Yohji's thrusts became harder, faster and soon they blended into a rhythm. Seasoned with loud pants, shivers and moans they worked their way towards completion. Yohji still with Aya's member in hand, Aya with his hands digging into Yohji's shoulders. Sweat slick skin slid against the other's, the taste of salt on both their lips. Aya met Yohji's thrust eagerly, arching his hips off the couch, flung one leg over Yohji's arm. Yohji replied with powerful movements. Buried himself in the hot, sweet tightness.

"Yohji!" A muffled cry and Aya's eyes rolled back while he pumped hot spurts of creamy moisture over Yohji's fingers and stomach.

Yohji groaned and held him through the orgasm, every twitch and moan fuel for his own desire. He continued his efforts while the orgasm lasted, locked eyes with Aya who met his gaze with burning purple; liquid flames of hot passion, basking in the afterglow, body still twitching, the pleasure not completely gone. He felt blood trickle from his shoulders where Aya's fingernails had left small crescent moons of red when the wave had hit him - marked him, marks of honor, evidence of the pleasure he had caused. The thought was enough to push him that last bit, his body buckled and he fell heavy down on top of Aya, unable to make his limbs support his own weight. With a deep sigh he settled on top of him while waves of pleasure rushed through his body, carried him off with blinding force.

"Oh, Aya," he muttered and buried his face in the other's neck, strands of red hair tickled his nose. Aya's pulse was still beating heavily but was quickly calming down. Yohji didn't want that to happen. Reality settle, the dream to be gone.

"Well, I guess the question is settled then,." Aya's low voice held a unfamiliar glow, it was gentle. Almost amused.

"What?" Yohji's reply was muffled and hoarse, said against Aya's throat.

"Aya is gay, " Yohji could almost swear he heard a smile in the words.

He chuckled lowly. "You can say that again," he lapped gently at Aya's salty skin. "I'm happy he is though, " he said seriously. "That I could do this before I d..." he trailed of and the shadow drifted back in. Clouded his mind, a pang of new fear exploded in his gut.

"Yohji !" Aya's voice held a new kind of fragility. A new tenderness, the arms that held Yohji held harder, pulled him tighter in his embrace.

Three Hours, Forty Five Minutes

The phone rang and they both startled. Got up from the couch in the same moment. Limbs untangled quickly, both of them suddenly tense and alert. Yohji got to it first, pushed the button and lifted it to his ear.

"Yohji!" He barked out, then he fell silent.

Aya stood naked on the floor, embraced himself with both arms, nervously looking at the blond. His body felt cold after having been embraced for so long. Sweat and semen cooled quickly now in the chill air. Caused Goosebumps to form, he shivered.

Yohji dropped the phone to the floor. His expression spoke of astonishment...surprise...

Slowly his gaze fixed on Aya.

"They made it," he said."Omi and Ken...they did it...it's ok...I'm not going to die..."

Relief mingled with shock in Aya's mind. Laugh or cry? He turned his back at Yohji and picked up his pants from the floor. Streaks of blood-mingled semen ran down his thighs, he didn't care, just pulled the pants back on. Felt a sudden need to cover himself.

"That's great, Yohji, " he said and meant it. "I am really, truly glad you'll live." So why was his voice so cold? His mind in such turmoil?

He turned to Yohji who sat on the floor with the phone still in hand. Naked and crying, shaking violently. His nudity suddenly felt like a fist - a violent attack.

"I'm glad..." he repeated and grabbed his shirt, moved towards the stairs. Wanted to be alone, on his own, in the shower.

When he passed Yohji the man's hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist:

"Aya, thank you..." Yohji said. Honest green eyes, shiny with tears.

Aya gently shook the hand off,

"Don't bother..." he said, and was gone.



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