Part 3- Intrigue I
[Version 2.1]

~*Note: several events in Parts 3, 4 and 5(a) have been 
exchanged.  If you miss your favorite scene, trust me, it's 
around here somewhere.  We shorten things, but its RARE we drop 
anything all together.  Thank you and enjoy! There is an 
"Intrigue II", somewhere in the thirties I imagine.  Oh! And this 
part now features a longer description of Fiona in case you got 
to wondering what she looks like.*~

In the spinning wake of Ken's forced departure, Ran rubbed his 
cheek against the glossy marble column he was currently lounging 
on, delighting in the icy feel of it on his slightly fevered 
skin.  He could have stayed like that all night, slumped on his 
knees with his arms wrapped tight around it, but it wasn't to be.  
Someone with spun silk hands urged him to come away.  

He balked at first, twisting towards his unwanted assistant with 
a  cutting remark at the ready, only to find a little girl 
staring grimly up at him.  

"Savil..."

With a grave nod, she tugged at his hand, urging him from his  
perch.  Ran relented without protest.  

"Where are we going?" Ran asked as she led him through the 
milling crowd.  

***

Savil was startled by the sound of her charge speaking.  She'd 
nearly managed to convince herself that he'd gone mute for the 
time being.  Funny, he sounded ever so little there among the 
crowd of Terrans, the patches of woodland sprung up from the 
marble floor...

"We're going to get you something to eat," She informed him.  
"You haven't had anything all day.  And unfortunately, you can't 
live on rose candy and sugar violets."  

This out, she spent a moment or two watching Aya rather than 
where she was going, and yet somehow or other deftly managed to 
avoid the passing bouquets of chatty boys. "Well, you can't!"

The route took them out from under the arch of the main ceiling, 
and into a somewhat less imposing hall. Not many people at all 
remained behind the long windows, scrunched up at intimate little 
booths, watching their candles die.  In other places, not of 
their present world, this long chamber would have had the most 
delectable, scrumptious aroma- all hot curry, warm bread and 
chicken soup.  But over this the violets, one whiff of which 
drowned out other perfumes, smells, tastes even after they have 
faded. 

Eventually, the two of them reached an innocuous white facade 
which had quite a few tables strewn out into the hall before it, 
and a stretch of ceiling above painted with an armada of fluffy 
clouds against an azure sky.  She waved to the host and he waved 
back.  A few of the waitresses tossed her thumbs up to see her in 
full uniform.  

Well, Aya quite possibly mistook them for waitresses.  
Particularly cute teenage boys in full French maid's costumes was 
a bit more accurate.  Really, they were the only remotely odd 
thing about the cafe, and but for them, it might have been a 
pseudo-Parisien bit of decor on any Antiterran street.  

Savil often came there and so had the privilege of seating 
herself during less busy hours.  She took Aya to her favorite 
nook- one just below a bit of rendered cirrus that resembled a 
woman wheeling with a bunch of birds.

And then she sighed.  "Order whatever you want.  It's on me.  
After all, I owe you.  I didn't know they were going to take Ken, 
and now I have to go myself.  I'm supposed to check in and all, 
but if this isn't extenuating circumstances, I don't know what 
is."  A small shrug, and then her eyes fell to the table top for 
a moment, before snapping up to Aya's.

Right into Aya's. 

"But I'm going to book you a room.  You're gonna want to avoid 
the hotel lobby at all costs.   The owner's notorious for 
flirting with customers and holding up the line for hours on end.  
Not to mention he's... umm... well, if he asks you if you're from 
Shinra, say no! I'll come back here in about an hour with your 
key.  If you go for a walk, I'll find you."

She jumped up from her chair then, and walked around to her 
charge's, bending down until her lips were near level with his 
brow.  But she didn't kiss him.  "Anything else you need?"

***

"No," he muttered, drooping in his seat like an forgotten bit of 
ivy.

"Well, all right then.  I'll just go and see to your 
arrangements."  Savil whirled about with a little wave.  "I'll be 
back!"

Ran watched her flit across the room until 
the shadows engulfed her.  Then he leaned back in his seat, and 
listlessly wiped his hand across his face.  What did he want?  A 
bath, and a bed, but not any food.  His lingering queasiness 
seemed to have done much for ruining his appetite.   Still, if 
he didn't eat...

A flash of pure, solid black waved at him from the corner of his 
eye, and Ran turned towards it to find a particularly gorgeous 
creature in a French maid's uniform coming towards him, teetering 
on spindly, black patent leather stilettos.   

"Hello, sir.  My name is Inoue, and I will be your server this 
evening.  What may I get for you tonight?"

Slowly, Ran lifted his eyes from the waitress's sleek, shapely 
thighs to her face--and found himself gazing into the obsidian 
eyes of a boy.  

"Uh..." His eyes wandered away to some point beyond them both, as 
Ran tried to regain control of his thoughts.  "Do you serve 
Oyako-donburi?"

He beamed, and nodded, sending his thick, black bob swishing 
over his shoulders.  "We can serve any sort of dish you'd like."  

"Uh...Okay."

"Would you like anything to drink, sir?"

"Tea."

"Mm hmmm.  And what kind?"

"Um...Surprise me," he replied, pinching his eyes shut, and 
raking his hand though his hair.  

"Yes, sir."  

Another alluring smile spread across his face, and with that, the 
boy bustled away, heels clacking merrily.  Ran cracked his eyes 
open to look as if he couldn't believe what he'd just saw.  He 
watched him until he'd disappeared through the swinging double 
doors that led to the kitchen.  After all, he was stunning.  

He tilted his head back then, fingers in his hair, and stared 
up at the Renoir-like cloud formation on the ceiling directly 
above him.  

"Oh, hell..."  

***

A quick trip to the storeroom for additional boxes, and Youji 
was back in his lair, rummaging through his closet, alternately 
searching for the appropriate outfit AND packing his wardrobe in 
his two suitcases.  

In the end, he decided upon a pair of leather pants (So it's 
summer, he thought, so what?), and a tight black T-shirt that 
left little to the imagination.  He brushed out his blonde hair 
until it shone, then tossed the silver brush and its matching 
comb into a duffel bag; his compact discs and walkman followed.   

Hastily he plopped his folded clothes in the larger of his two 
suitcases; the comforter, sheets, pillows, and all the cushions 
he wrestled into zippered plastic bags and tossed towards the 
door.  He taped up the box containing his yaoi manga, and upended 
the contents of his dresser into the spare suitcase and locked it.  
Scooping up a cardboard box he'd rescued from the trash that 
morning, he headed off to Aya's room.  

It seemed so odd, being able to freely enter the sanctuary of the 
sulky one, and, even though Youji knew he was gone, he still had 
the feeling that Aya would stalk in at any moment, glaring and 
snarling.  More than once, he caught himself glancing back at the 
door as he went about his business.  Aya didn't have much to 
store, just a few clothes, his boots, his trench, and a handful 
of photographs.  Youji didn't bother to look at any of them, 
though, for he felt as if he'd intruded too much on Aya's 
privacy as it was.   

A last look around, and Youji left with the box balanced on one 
hand and the sheathed katana under his arm.  

"Omi?  You ready to go?"

***     

No, actually, Omi wasn't ready at all.  After tucking away the 
last of his own possessions- and what had that required? Fifteen 
minutes? How whole could a life packed in boxes to be stowed away 
on a moving van so soon be?   It didn't matter.  

Presently, he sat alone in the middle of the wreckage of Ken's 
room, which happened to be the bed.  It didn't seem like anyone 
had lived here- spilled socks or not, didn't smell right.  All 
this time no one had closed the windows.  And the scent of Ken's 
being there once had washed out, fled and gone to waste on the 
evening air.  The bed felt like no one had ever slept in it, no 
lain there save for himself.

He wondered; just what was it like to be Ken? So this was his 
ceiling, and his gundams.  His socks that would have to be 
washed.  His claws.  He'd picked them up, pulled the glove on, 
and given the trigger a good squeeze.  Shck! They felt so ill-
balanced.  Heavy in all the wrong places.  Shck! And they folded 
away, couldn't be seen at all.  But he could still feel them, 
like a brace, or an old wound.

And with all of this, Omi giggled, because he wasn't Ken, and 
well, shouldn't Ken be happy now he didn't have to carry around 
such a silly thing?

Speaking of silly, he glanced to the doorway and there found 
Youji, standing, watching him.

***

Of all the things to see, Omi lying on Ken's bed, and playing 
with his bagh-nakh gloves as if they were mere toys was one of 
the oddest sights Youji'd ever seen.  He had been about to tell 
him as much, when the ring came at their back door.  

Beckoning for Omi to follow him with a toss of his head at the 
backdoor, Youji sauntered off, carefully depositing the box of 
their mingled memories and Aya's katana onto the kitchen table as 
he passed it.  

A quick finger comb and a sweep of his hands down his shirt and 
he opened the door.  His usual smile lit up his face.  

"Ah, Manx!  Come in, come in!" he cried, bowing like a maitre'd 
as he pulled the door open wider to let her pass.  "Looking 
hot as usual."

And, of course, she did.  With diamonds twinkling in her earlobs, 
dressed in a low-cute, emerald green cocktail dress, black 
fishnets and strappy black patent heels, she looked as if she 
were headed for a date than back to the office.

He made a grab for her hand, intending to kiss it, but she 
neatly dodged his questing fingers, smirking as she did so.  
"Balinese."  

"Oh!  SO formal!  It wounds me, Manx, that you can't be 
more...*friendly* towards me," he said as he closed and latched 
the back door.  

"I've wounded you?  Apparently not--or at least, not nearly 
enough for my liking, Balinese."  

She shot him a bemused look over her shoulder, then swept into 
the kitchen at his silent direction.  Manx noticed Omi then, and 
her hard-edged smirk softened in a genuine smile.  

"Hello, Bombay."

She saw then the katana resting on the chair which Aya 
normally occupied, and, frowning slightly, glanced from one to 
the other.  "But where is Abyssinian?  And for that matter, where 
is Siberian?"

***

Omi was all smiles, even watching his boyfriend shamelessly flirt 
with their boss's secretary. After all, the most amusing part of 
the whole ritual was knowing that for once, she had no idea what 
was going on.  That this WAS his boyfriend.  For now they were 
almost like two courtly lovers in a comedy by Shakespeare.  

But then his own carefully places toast crumbs crunched under his 
feet, and spoke to him, and she asked the magic question.

"Kombanwa, Manx-san." He gave her a little bit of a bow. "We 
don't know." A long, morbid nod, then he glanced up.  /I at least 
should look her in the eyes when I tell her./  "They were gone 
when we got up this morning.  And ah... we don't think they want
to come back."

He reached into his pocket then, pulled out the neatly folded 
leaves of Pochacco stationary...  "Ken left these."  ...and 
offered them to her, like flowers for someone's funeral.  

***

Manx quirked a finely arched brow at the folded sheets she now 
held in her hands.  "Notes?"  

Omi nodded, and Manx, her expression closed, spilled them all 
onto the table.  The nearest one she shook open to read; then 
the next and the next until she'd read them all.  She let them 
fall to the (inexplicably) sticky surface as she finished with 
them.  

"So..." she drawled, tapping the red lacquered nails of one hand 
along the back of a chair."There only two of you in the shop now.  
Momoe-san won't be too happy about the sudden lack of help, I'm 
sure."  

***

"Well..." Omi began, and for this he absolutely had to drop his 
eyes to the floor.  The floor that was no longer his, for reasons 
he was about to lie his soar little butt off about.

"That's the other thing, Manx-san.  We were having breakfast this 
morning, kinda late, so Momoe-san came into check on us.  And it 
seems on the way, she got a really good look at the rest of the 
house, which isn't in very good shape either I'm afraid.  So she 
umm... was in here, asking us nicely to please clean up when she 
went for the teapot and then..."

It was play this part up or die laughing- he sniffled and wrung 
his hands.  "There was a mouse! It scared her half to death and 
she kinda fell and broke her hip.  She's very, very angry about 
it. So angry in fact, she's evicted us."

Youji tossed him a thumbs up sign.

***

Manx's madly tapping fingers came to a halt.  "She's evicted you?  
I'm surprised she held out as long as she did, what with him," 
her thumb jerking at Youji, "living in the house."

With a gasp of mock horror, Youji came up alongside her, hands 
over his heart.  "Why, Manx!  I'm crushed!  I've tried to be..."

"I can just imagine what *you've* tried to be, Balinese."

A lingering look passed between the two of them, and then Youji  
backed away with a theatrical bow.  

"Touche, Manx."

He shot her a sad, faint smile as he straightened up, and threw 
his hands up in the air.  "And there you have it.  The reason why 
I called you."

She nodded, her gaze once more falling upon the little pile of  
notes.  "I see.  When do you have to be out of here?"

"Momoe-san wants us out by the time she gets out of the hospital."  

"Surgery, no doubt?"

"Yeah."  Youji shrugged.  "Or so the paramedics said."  

Again she nodded.  "Well, I'll get on it.  I see no reason why I 
can't have you in a new place before the week is out, so don't 
worry.  I can put you up in a hotel now, if you want."

Youji glanced over at Omi, who nodded, smiling.  

"All right, then, since he wants to leave now, I say yes."

She looked from Youji to Omi in a speculative way, as if she'd  
noticed something...different between the two of them, and then  
headed off to the phone in the hall.  "Go and get your things, 
boys," she called.  "You'll be leaving shortly."

***

Omi let out a sigh of relief so utterly terrific, he wondered why 
his lungs hadn't gone into spasms waiting for it.  Oh well, time 
for other things to be worried over.

/Alone in a hotel room with my Youji until the end of the week.  
With nothing to do... NOTHING! Wai! Wai!/

He could feel his cheeks burning at the mere thought.  

But for now, it was all he could do to offer his lover a nice pat 
on the bum as they headed up the hallway after their belongings.  
"You think she noticed? Not the living room.  The other thing?"

Youji, taken aback it seemed, sniggered silently and held his 
fingers to his lips.  

"Well... either way..."

Back in his own room, he shoveled his clothes into his suitcase 
and duffel... not that many fit in said duffel bag, owing to the 
myriad of computer disks.  An empty space actually appeared in 
the suitcase, and he determined its purpose like the meaning of a 
cloud.

Ken's bagh-nakh fit perfectly.  Admittedly, it was a pretty 
bizarre place for them, but oh well.  Onto bigger and better 
things.  Would this be their last time in the Koneko? No, there'd 
be one more trip for the boxes.  The computer.  What else? 
Nothing probably.  

Out of distant consideration, he checked Ken's room for anything 
else he would have done well to take.  Found nothing, but the 
window.  Still open.  He left it that way too.  

And went into the hall to wait for Manx to finish her call and 
whatever else was bound to happen that night.

***

The box full of bed covers and pillows came rolling down the 
stairs (sent down with a firm kick), and Youji followed close 
behind it, dragging his two suitcase and carrying his sagging 
yellow duffle.  He set the cases down next to the upside down 
box, and, without so much as a look in Manx's direction, walked 
over to Omi and kissed him.  Properly kissed him that is--none of 
that quick, embarrassed pecking for his boy. 

/Mmm...My boy, who I'll have all to myself for a week.  For 
longer than that!/ 

A ruffle of his hair, and Youji strode off again, this time to 
the bathroom to gather up a few more of his essentials for their 
trip--including his Freesia shampoo.  

When he came out again mere minutes later, the bag bulging at his 
hip, Manx had finished her call.  

"So?"

"So...I've got you a room," she replied, as if irked that he'd 
even asked.  "It's not the Hilton, but it'll be comfortable 
enough."  She handed Omi a slip of paper, upon which she'd 
written the name and address of their temporary residence.  

"It's an inn, just a few miles outside of Tokyo.  Quiet and 
peaceful.  Even has an hot spring on the premises."

Tossing the duffle onto the floor by the cases, Youji peered 
over Omi's shoulder, draping his arm over his shoulder and 
leaving it there.  "Sounds kind of fancy, Manx.  I mean, I 
expected us to end up in a dive."

She fixed them with that same knowing look as she'd given before.  
"Maybe I think you two deserve a vacation.  And besides, you've 
done enough for Kritiker.  Consider this a long overdue 
perk."

He snorted in amusement.  "I never thought an assassin would be 
entitled to perks."

Manx smiled.  "I've booked you until Friday, but 
I'll have you an apartment by then.  A new day job too, of 
course."

"Of course."

"Yes...Keep him out of trouble, won't you, Omi?"

"Oi!  Shouldn't you be asking that of me about Omi?  I'm the 
adult after all."

"Are you? I have to wonder..."  She laughed merrily at his 
disgruntled expression, and, with a glance at her watch, turned 
to leave.  "I'm off.  It's nearly 6, and I'm expected for dinner 
in a half an hour."

Youji hugged Omi's neck, then moved off in Manx's wake.  A man 
should always see a woman to the door, after all.  "And who's the 
lucky guy this evening?"

She turned on the threshold, looking him up and down, an impish 
grin slowly spreading across her face.  

"The same one its been for the last three months, Balinese.  
It's Birman."  

With that, she was gone, her laughter ringing away behind her.  

***

Omi didn't say anything.  Even if his jaw had been willing to 
function in any sensible manner, what was he *supposed* to say to 
that?  Manx's laughter lingered on the air like faerie dust, just 
as his blank stare lingered on his own visage for many, many, 
many moments of swirly but utter surprise.

"I wonder if Persia was alive today... what he would think of all 
this.  If he knew of course but..."

And taking his beautiful boyfriend in his arms.  "I'm so happy 
for her!"

***

"I'm happy for her too," he murmured.  "But...You know something?"  

Youji leaned down close, his lips just touching Omi's ear.  "I'm 
even happier for us."

***

Omi leaned up on his toes to return the earlier, ravaging kiss he 
had been offered in secret.  "I'm still not happy I had to lie to 
her but..."

All too suddenly, he wriggled away and cavorted over to their 
bags, snatching his own up and grinning wildly.  "Can you be 
happy for us in the hotel room then? For a long, long time 
maybe?"

Those winks had to be unmistakable.  "I don't know about you, but 
the mention of hot springs, oh! It makes me think of so many 
etchi things!"

Then casting the door open once again, with a romantic flourish 
as if they had been curtains to the stage of all Tokyo.  "Last on 
to the car drops the soap in the shower!"

***

"Oi!  I've got more bags to haul than you do!" Youji called, but 
Omi was already gone.  And he, Kudou Youji, had lost the 
race--not that he really minded.  

Unhurriedly, Youji made his way to the kitchen to collect the 
katana and the box he'd put Aya's things in, then came back to 
the hall to get the rest of his things.  Once everything was 
outside on the step, Youjilocked the door.  As he started 
down the stairs, though, he sneered nastily at Omi.  

"Your day is coming, kid."

***

"And I can't wait!" A long, frothy bad-boy laugh escaped him as 
his lover climbed into the car.  It hadn't even been this time 
yesterday, had it? When he'd been enjoying his candy in the 
silence of benign conversation.  Fussing about not being home.

Now they didn't even have a home, and in retrospect, the 
conversation was anything but normal.  

He didn't bother watching out the window as the pulled away.  
What was there to see? Same streetlights, same sidewalk.  Same 
window he'd left open.  They'd be back for a bit, then he could 
say goodbye if he wanted to.  No, for now, he just watched Youji.  

So they left their old street, Ken's bike looking over them 
forlornly as they pulled away into the oceans of lost souls and 
lights.

"It's just like yesterday, only it doesn't hurt."

***

Chuckling softly, Youji glanced back at the Koneko in the rear 
view as they roared off.  "Maybe just a little around the edges.  
But I expect that'll wear away." 
 
/In time./ 
 
*** 
 
His many insistences regarding his age fled, and Omi, like a very 
small child, dreamily wiggled his fingers along Youji's soft 
mouth.  Kissed him, where their lips were otherwise kept apart by 
the ever-changing processional of traffic.  

"I didn't mean that, Youji-kun.  I mean... I don't feel like I 
did yesterday.  I don't feel all lonely and sad.  That's what I 
meant by hurt."

Outside, someone not him giggled.

"Definitely not that. And maybe lonely and sad doesn't work 
either... I I feel alright... no, not just OK.  I feel ALL RIGHT. 
Like I don't have to worry.  Don't let me worry.  Youji-kun..."

Finally, a red light, and he leaned over, pressing his cheek into 
the silk-wrapped shoulder.  As if trying to make the sensation 
linger.

***

Ah, would that there were red lights at every other corner.  Such 
pauses in the midst of the clamor of traffic and pedestrians were 
bliss, in Youji's opinion--especially when he had a lovely 
someone by his side.  

"You don't have to worry, Omi.  Not about me.  Not about 
yourself."  He nuzzled the top of his head.  "Cause I won't ever 
let anything happen to you."

/And of that, Omi, you can be sure./  

***

Only one thing remained for Omi to say, and he said it soft and 
proudly on the highway out of Tokyo.  "I love you."

And then his eyes seemed to be dimming with his own deep, deep 
well of emotion, at least for a time until he found the spaces 
between buildings beginning to open up, their garishness melting 
as all of the city ran slowly away like thick fruit juice melting 
on one's tongue.   More rice fields, less discos.  More ordinary 
people in their ordinary lives, twirling and revolving in the 
suburbs not so far from the Saint Vitus Dance of their neighbors 
the Tokyoites.  No, that world withered her and did so like a 
dying faerie in a Russian ballet- with peace and beauty.

So as the lights began to die upon the ground, save for the 
fireflies now and again which could not be called creatures of 
the earth, his eyes fell to the black heavens that faded to blue, 
lined with the reflection of where they had been. 

Growing dimmer and dimmer and dimmer and...

"I see one, Youji-kun! I can see the stars!"

***

Youji glanced up then, and then again, eyes coasting from the 
road to  the sky and back again like strobing emeralds. And then, 
when it was just their car moving across the asphalt, he looked 
up and let the twin lights linger on the void.  
 
And he saw it. First one, then two, then a hundred, like a crowd 
of tiny, silver flames.  He hadn't laid eyes on the stars in a 
long, long time.  
 
Youji drove the car onto the shoulder and shut off the engine.  
 
"All the stars," he said dreamily, as he laid his hands on the 
thick metal hooks above the windshield. "Universes, and comets, 
and black  holes..." 
 
The hooks gave way with a reluctant POP! Youji flexed his aching  
fingers a few times, then pressed a button on the dash. A soft 
whir followed, and the leather top rose away from the frame, and 
swooned into its resting place above the trunk.  All above them, 
the distant suns and planets winked and wavered.  
 
Youji wonderingly admired the stunning view above him, then 
lovingly admired the glorious sight beside him, one hand coming 
to rest on Omi's cheek.  
 
"And I love you too." 

***

Omi sighed. "I don't remember the last time I wonder if I ever 
did." 
 
And his eyes fell heavenward again, tracing out the rabbit or 
what he could make out of it, the spells of nothing betwixt the 
puddles of liquid light that shimmered so. 
 
"It doesn't look so empty up there, does it? It seems like space 
is just filled with stars and you could walk between them if you 
wanted to. And all that empty space is crossed with roads we 
can't see... and there's nothing to make you lose your way, not 
that it would matter." 
 
/Sometimes I wonder if we're right about the stars- if they are 
so far apart and just like us./ 
 
/Silly me./ 

"But from here on earth, it's not so bad, is it?" 
 
*** 

"No, it isn't." 
 
Youji's left arm fell across the top of Omi's seat with a soft 
smack, fingers cupped around its headrest. He slunk down a little 
in the seat and gazed up at the heavens. 
 
He groped for his fresh pack of cigs and his lighter in the 
door's catchall, and managed to get one tightly wrapped cylinder 
in his mouth and aflame onehanded. Smoke drifted out of his mouth 
in lazy ribbons, grey-white against the darkness.  
 
"It's marvelous." 
 
He slipped the back of Omi's neck a gentle squeeze as he drew his 
hand away. The car leapt to life again in the next instant, and 
Youji smiled around the hastily replaced smoke as he prodded the 
car forward onto the road.  
 
"My little philosopher."  

***

"No, Farfie! These are MY Cheez-its!" Schuldich once again 
informed his erstwhile fellow member of Schwartz, deftly spinning 
on his toes and thereby rescuing his crimson bag from the filed 
teeth of Farfarello who growled, spat, and generally tugged at 
the metal restraints which were keeping him affixed to his 
wheelchair.  

"But God will suffer if you give me some! Yes, my arteries will 
become clogged with the viscous goo of cholesterol! Pain! There 
will be pain!"

Schuldich rolled his eyes at this anti-logic and popped another 
handful of crackers into his mouth.  "But these are reduced fat 
Cheez-its." 

"Oh..." If Farfarello had any composure, his demeanor would have 
indicated his desire to regain it, but being as he was, and would 
always be, quite mad, composure just wasn't the word.  Besides, 
he promptly piped up, "Can I have one anyway?"

"Mmmnnn... no."

And so he hung his head and allowed his present guardian to wheel 
him a little further down the arcade.  He was not too pleased 
with having to go about in such an undignified manner...

/Which I absolutely don't understand considering he has no 
dignity!/

... but then again, Terra was not too pleased with having him 
present, period, nor was Schuldich a great fan of "walking the 
dog".

Even though dogs are seldom so vicious as to require being 
handcuffed to a wheelchair in order to appear in public.  And 
right about then, he probably could have used a muzzle too- the 
way he kept snapping at that cracker bag! The telepath seriously 
considered jumping into his head and making him stop all this 
wriggling and clicking nonsense.  But then again, it was late, he 
was tired, and he didn't feel like dealing with the Dali-esque 
sour-orbitz cola landscape of Farfie's head. 

He would just take him for a walk, as the Planet's doctors 
invariably ordered.  Well, could order until he convinced them 
otherwise.  What a terrific bore this job was!  The only fun part 
was getting ready to go out.  

And since he abided now in the land of gay men ruled by women, he 
made sure to enjoy himself in that regard.  This evening found 
him clad in acid-washed jeans and a baby-doll T-shirt which read 
"Hot stuff" in glittery blue letters.  He presently took a moment 
to flick some crumbs from it while the copse of trees he wandered 
through was still thick enough to hide such indelicacies.  While 
he was at it, he shook out his bangs and hitched his trousers 
down a little lower than they were generally inclined to hang.

However, despite all his self-interested preening, Schuldich, 
once exposed to the full light of the half, spun around and 
whisked himself and his less than sane companion back into the 
trees.

"Now what!?" Farfarello demanded, readying a string of epithets 
if his "walk" was not resumed presently.

Schuldich munched for a moment.  "Well, would you look at that 
Farfie?"

"Look at what? The back of your fu-..."

"That sweet, little, morose redhead we used to know!"

Then they both grinned, and watched Aya as he strode slowly from 
the hall of restaurants, seeming to have no particular 
destination, and nothing he wished to see besides his feet.  

"I wonder what he's doing here, don't you, old pal?" /I can feel 
it without even trying, that boy is dripping angst! Oh, it's so 
good... so good! And what's this? A hint of lust?/

"Don't call me that or Farfie! You lousy, bubble-assed 
cumbucket!"

"Sure, Farfie!" He smiled, and set the breaks on the wheelchair 
with the tip of his sneaker.  "I'll be right back.  You stay here 
like an angelic little sadomasochistic schizophrenic!"

And with that, Schuldich ambled out of the trees, walked straight 
up to Aya and did what he assumed would annoy him most of all.

"Hullo there! Fancy meeting you here."  This he drolled as if he 
was speaking to an old friend, which, needless to say, he wasn't.

***  
 
At the sound of that purring voice, Ran's head jerked up, and his 
still unfocussed eyes narrowed to violent, furious slits.  The 
last person he ever expected to see there was standing before 
him, framed by a bower of lilacs and climbing white roses, and 
there he was, without his katana, trapped on a planet where 
fighting was prohibited.  

Not his idea of a good time.  

"What the FUCK are you doing here?" 

***

It was all Schuldich could do to swallow his bubbles of baleful 
Giggles, but his very best bemusedly affronted mode, he rather 
dully remarked, "Well, I live here."

He sighed and took a moment to flick a few strands of his henna-
red hair behind his shoulder.  "I mean, where did you think I- we 
-were holding up all this time?" At this he turned over his 
shoulder and waved at Farfarello, whose subsequent curses were 
well drowned by the crowd.  "Not safe to live on Antiterra right 
now, what with the underworld in chaos, Takatori's minions 
running around mindlessly by my fault and yours I suppose."

Having rolled his eyes, he paused and had some more Cheez-its.

"Hey, I'm sorry Ken ditched you, but what do you want me to do 
about it? Can't I be glad to see you? Oh, and to answer the next 
question you may or may not have been planning on asking, no, I'm 
not interested in chopping you into little pieces.  I don't do 
that anymore."

***
Ran just stared at Schuldich as if he'd been confronted by a 
spectre--albeit one with highlyquestionable taste in its choices 
of clothing and snackfood.  

"So you don't kill anymore?  How very convenient for you, 
considering you're now living on a planet where violence is 
forbidden.  What did you do, Schuldich?  Kidnap some herald's 
sister and threaten her life, if she didn't grant you access?"  

"And no, Ken didn't 'ditch me'," Ran snarled, "and no, you 
BASTARD, you can't be glad to see me.  Now why don't you get 
the hell back to your psychotic, knife-licking boyfriend, 
and stay clear of me.  AND KEN."  

***  

And then he laughed so hard, it was most fortunate that he had no 
crackers in his mouth, or he surely would have extruded them 
through his nose.  Why, the contrast between Aya's words and his 
flummoxed thoughts was... hysterical.

When he finally managed to get a hold of himself, Schuldich 
realized a few of his delightful orange squares had been spilt 
and Farfarello was whining virulently about their loss.   No 
matter.  Though the sight of his madman companion sent him into 
another fit of snickers. 

"Farfie? My boyfriend? That moron!? Aya! Haven't we known each 
other long enough for you to understand I have better taste than 
THAT? And ANYWAY..." he dabbed at his eyelashes,  "...MY lover 
brought me here legitimately before I was even a member of 
Schwartz or Estet! So stop acting like we have nothing in common 
already."

What he said next had no aim save irritating Farfarello.

"Cheez-it?"

***

If Ran had been cold before, then he was positively arctic now.

"No, I don't want a damn Cheez-it!  I want you to leave me--us--
alone."

He started to stalk away, but Schuldich's next few remarks caused 
him to stop in mid-departure and turn back around to face him.  
Made him come straight back.  

"Your...Your lover brought you here?"  His scalding gaze slowly 
raked over the telepath, whipping up to meet his bemused own 
without warning.  "You don't mean...You don't mean HE'S 
here too?"

***

Shuldich gave a long, heavy shrug.  "Here, there, everywhere.  
Terra, Antiterra.  Heaven and hell.  Why are any of us here? They 
say here is just an illusion.  What a vague question, but 
thankfully, I know what you really asked, and the answer to that 
is 'yes'.  Brad's here, and we're fucking.  Been fucking for a 
long time.  It's real nice.  But suit yourself with the Cheez-
its."  Another shrug, and he munched on a few more crackers.

"Why you find that more shocking than me being here at all I..."

The thing was he stopped in mid-sentence before any particular 
variation came to the grand hall The Planet, as the Japanese 
Annex was known.  No lights appeared, no third moon, not even a 
cry in the crowd. But he got that look to his face, as if he'd 
heard something.  Something no one else could.

Then Aya heard it too.  Another familiar voice, one that brought 
no worries in remembrance, but rather context, and what it cried.  

"Schu-baby!" And beyond all dread and wonder, his little herald 
shortly appeared and came prancing up to Schuldich, looking up at 
him with a light and airy sort of fondness as she wiggled her 
shoulders back and forth.

The thing was, he returned the gesture almost exactly.  "Saffie, 
what are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Aya, Ni-chan."

***

"Ni-chan?!"

Ran's eyes moved from the beaming little girl to the equally 
smirking (ex?) assassin and back again, full of shock. 

"No..."

He settled his gaze back onto the still delightedly grinning 
Schuldich, who now had his arm slung around the little girl.  
"YOU have a sister.  You who...You BASTARD!"

He dizzily backed away again, casting his puzzled gaze upon 
Savil for a long moment.  Then he turned and wordlessly 
sprinted away.  

***

::I didn't think you'd tell him.::

::He didn't ask.::

::No one ever does, liebechen.:: Of the few people who passed 
them as they stood just before the bower of lilacs none of them 
witnessed anything besides the two of them, standing with 
uninterested eyes wandering across the floor as Schuldich ran his 
long fingers through Saffie's hair. ::Why do you feel bad for 
him, hmm?::

::Because I can.  I like Ran.  You do too.::

::Yeah, I do.  And not just because he's so delish inside, you 
know.::

::Oh, I do know.  Now.  And he doesn't hate me, he just hates 
you.::

They both knew why.  After awhile, Herald Savil pushed her 
brother's hand away, and started to step across the grass in s 
slow, dreamy way, like a maiden in a movie does while her friend 
takes too long to speak.  Still, no words.  Words probably 
wouldn't have done justice to anything they ever said to each 
other.

Smiles then.  He gave her 10,000 yen and she crammed it in her 
pocket.  She handed him a little brass key, and he twirled it on 
his fingers.  They had another joke not meant for ears and parted 
without making more noise than their footsteps.  Saffie headed 
towards an alcove of shops.  Schuldich followed Aya, and found 
him by the warm, sticky liquor of his pain alone.  

Found him standing along, under one of the older oaks.

"You can't go on hating every person on the face of the earth who 
has a healthy little sister, Aya. And anyway, it's not what you 
think.  You're not like us.  You can't begin to understand what I 
feel for her.  Ouka, or no Ouka.  As if she didn't know... bah."  

This said, he dropped two things to Aya.  The key to his room and 
a few choice memories of his own.  Mental snapshots of his 
sister.  Just to make it sting, just to make it feel that much 
more real.  Undeniable, and in some ways perhaps, sibylline and 
weird.  Saffie in Paris on her eighth birthday.  Saffie the day 
she'd decided to go poking around in everything he knew about 
sex.  Saffie on the plane from Munich to Tokyo, pinching Nagi 
because she could.

Saffie the first time her father beat her senseless.  Oh, and 
Schuldich knew the one peculiar thing about that recollection.   

He wasn't there.  It was no mere copy of someone else.  Just 
clear and obviously Saffie, from Saffie, somewhere in his own 
mind.

Let the little Weiss boy chew on that for awhile.  He knew he 
had.  

"Oh, and your room's on the third floor, left hall."

Then he walked off to find Farfarello before some unfortunate 
soul did.

***

The images Schuldich had bombarded him with remained in his 
subconscious, even though he wasn't interested in seeing any of 
it. He didn't care what Savil had suffered, or how her pain had 
touched some hidden tender fragment inside the telepath.  He 
didn't care about his reasons.  

"AND YOU CAN'T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL ABOUT AYA!  YOU 
TOOK HER FROM ME, AND YOU'RE NOT SORRY, SO WHY THE HELL SHOULD 
I CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR SISTER?! I HATE YOU!"

With a drunken throw on Ran's part the key went sailing across 
the grove, to bounce off a tree and hopelessly disappear in a 
thicket at the far end.  

"I. HATE. YOU!"

Panting, he fell against the tree nearest him, and slid to his 
knees.  Stared blankly at the ground, while tears fell unchecked 
from his eyes.  He forlornly laid his head against the rough, 
scratchy tree trunk at his side.  

/Aya...Aya, I'm so sorry I left you./

***

Savil, presently off duty and so now Saffie, sighed.  She was 
very tired.  Now her brother knew, and he had told her she could 
go home.  Well, after two little things.  She stopped on the way 
back to buy a bottle of current wine that was older than herself 
from the little Korean fellow who somehow managed to import 
Antiterran wines without being caught.  He asked after her.  She 
asked after his boyfriend of twenty-two years, even though she 
had already heard he wasn't well.  

Paper bag swinging back and forth in her left hand at last, she 
approached a haunt of her own fancy, change in hand.  

"Hey Savil!" The boy, not too much older than her, who happened 
to be tending the counter, called.  "Heard you made full herald 
today."

"Sure did!"

"And you come here to celebrate?"

"Well, they don't exactly sell this stuff in Japan.  I'll have 
regular."

A cloud of steam and cozy hisses rose up from behind the glass 
case where she stood, on her tiptoes, anxiously awaiting her 
candy.   After all, one of the most fun things about snow amber 
was grabbing the plate and racing out the door to find a place to 
eat it before it became ruined and watery.  

Saffie, just before she was handed her serving, cast all of her 
spare coins on the counter and ran out into the arcade, where she 
sat down, clunked the bottle of current wine against an urn, 
nearly knocked it both over and began to sort though the shaved 
ice on her plate after her dainties.

No one knew exactly what that stuff was- but it had to be forced 
into being on a bed of snow and then done away with before said 
snow melted into it.  It being little sweet jewels, hot of all 
things, that tasted like... amber really. Although recently, the 
shop had been expanded to offer more adventurous flavors, like 
red, and green and blue.  Amber though would always be Saffie's 
favorite.  

Once she found herself with only a puddle of slightly discolored 
slush, she tossed out the water and the plastic which had been 
used to serve her treat, and started home in earnest.  

Now that her brother and his associates, had no pressing business 
back on Antiterra, they had taken the liberty of moving into a 
grand suite on the bottom floor of the Kalm Inn, and had been 
there ever since the fall of the last breathing Takatori.  She 
herself had lived most of her life in one hotel room or another, 
but had to admit her present accommodations were especially 
pleasing.  After all, the owner of the poorly named but still 
virtuously opulent hotel was too lost in his own delusions to 
forbid any of their eccentric requests.

Starting with the piano.  Which she could already make out 
somewhat, having only just entered the dim corridor where room 24 
began.  That and the cool rapture of the player.

Saffie didn't bother to knock.  After all, beyond was a man lost 
in his music.  As if she could startle him, the only person who 
had known her anything close to as long as Schuldich had... why, 
he'd probably had some idea she'd be returning now last week!

***

Coming into Suite 24 was akin to leaving one world in favor of 
another.  The occupants, who more or less had been given 
permission to decorate the space as they pleased, had done the 
living room in the style of the French 18th century.  The walls 
were covered in heavy, silver silk.  The curved, dark wood chairs 
and sofas were covered in the same.  Tables, small and large, 
were scattered about the long, rectangular room.  The floor was 
all dark wood and lacquered and covered with an enormous Chinese 
rug, which was stained here and there with beeswax from the 
chandelier's blazing candles.  But no paintings, as the occupants 
disliked them; the silk was enough of a decoration.  

And to one side, near the fern guarded, French doors that lead to 
the balcony, stood the piano, replete with a three prong, silver 
candalabra and sheet music strewn over its glossy surface.  The 
man who sat at it, fingers coaxing the most heavenly, chiming 
sounds from it, was none other than Brad Crawford himself, 
although from the back, no one who'd met the man would have 
known it.  

He was dressed in a white, poet's shirt, thin lacing hanging 
open at his neck, and a pair of black velvet trousers; 
barefoot, because he preferred to be.  And his hair now 
brushed his shoulders, spilled over into his eyes at 
intervals as he moved.  

The final bars of "Liebestraum" swooned to an end, and Brad 
reached for the remains of his cigarette, not even glancing 
around at his visitor.  He didn't have to, anyway.  

"Hello, Savil darling," he murmured, flicking the ash from the 
end of his cigarette, and taking another, final drag before he 
crushed it in the crystal tray."Won't you have some tea?"

As if on cue, a china cup and saucer, white with red and gold 
roses around their respective rims, sailed across the room from 
one shadowy corner and hovered before her, just within hand's 
reach.  

A soft, slightly effeminate, Japanese accented voice wafted from 
that same corner.  "It's Darjeeling, of course, two lumps of 
sugar.  Is that acceptable, Savil?"

*** 

"More than acceptable, Nagi-chan! It's wonderful." Savil beamed, 
and ceased her applause for Bradley's rendition in order to pluck 
the cup and saucer from the air, which she did in a manner 
suggesting they were but trifles appearing on a perfectly 
ordinary table.  "Domo arigatou." And she had a sip.  Nagi really 
did make fantastic tea- pungent, but not bitter.  Sweet, but not 
too sweet.

Rather like his thoughts, but Oh! She simply wasn't in the mood 
to go through those.

Saffie took a moment to pat her brother's boyfriend's back after 
having toed out of her slippers and slunk into the shadows 
herself, carrying her tea in a more mundane fashion.  The chair 
besides the telekinetic- the especially squashy burgundy one she 
always favored, proved specially emptied.  

So speaking of Nagi, she offered him a smile, and took a few lazy 
moments to enjoy her tea as she sat perched on the edge of that 
cuddly chair so it would not consume her just yet.  She watched 
Nagi watching her drink with his lazy eyes.  Her shields 
still up, she did her best to guess- just what was he 
considering? Why would he watch her? Ah, to prove that the tea 
was acceptable.  No matter how much she flattered him over it, 
he'd never believe it unless she drained the whole cup smiling.  
And even then...

"You know what I've got in the bag, don't you?" She said to 
Crawford, for the sake of distraction.  "Have you overdone the 
tea yourselves, or can I fix you a little of this, hmm?"

It was polite to ask, even if she knew the answer.

***

"I overdo everything lately," replied Crawford, who'd settled 
himself on the bench so he could observe the younger members 
of the household.  

"I am content with the tea," said Nagi.  A half-filled cup 
drifted up from the table then, and soared into the boy's 
thin, pale hands without a quiver.  "But I wouldn't mind 
you showing us what you brought."   

"I wouldn't mind either even though I already know what it is.  
Why don't you enlighten, Nagi, darling?" Crawford murmured, 
blowing a perfect ring of smoke from his newly lit clove 
cigarette.  

Very faintly, the tea things began to rattle and click 
together, though no hand or foot touched them.  

***

Savil held her hand away from her giggling lips (Nagi had such a 
cute temper!) and reached for the little treasure her brother had 
asked her to pick up.  The bottle shone like a scepter of pinkish 
amethyst in the swaying light of the candles.  "Currant Wine.  
British, Vintage 1983.  My brother's apology for being late.  I 
got to bring it since it was my fault he had to go walk the dog 
and all."

No sigh was necessary.  Walking the dog happened to be the one 
task they all rued.  Well, with the exception of Saffie herself.  
After all even telepathic little girls liked pets, didn't they? 

She closed her eyes and smiled, craning her head back against the 
highest arch of her chair.  She could hear her hair grating 
against it, smell the fresh, clove smoke, delight in that she 
could throw down her barriers and feel nothing if she wanted too.  
Nothing but the weird, all-consuming recklessness of home.  Her 
eyes flickered onto Crawford then.  "You don't mind if my brother 
and I tell Nagi about today then, do you?"

The tea tray rattled again.  

***

Another smoke ring wavered into life upon the air.    

"Mind the teaset, Nagi.  Farfarello will be so pissed if it gets 
even the slightest chip," said Crawford mildly.  "And none of us 
want that, do we?"

The teatray quickly ceased its rattling; however, the spoon which 
lay on Nagi's saucer leapt up and careened across the room to 
crash against the metal frame of one glass balcony door.  It hit 
the floor with a ringing clatter, which was followed by a 
long pause.  

"Do you want me to ground you?"

"Try it, Crawford."

There was a moment of tense silence, and then the air was calm 
again.  Nagi tended to his tea (albeit whilst warily watching 
Crawford) and Brad settled back against the piano, contemplating 
the glowing, pink-topaz wine.  

"Late is he?  Why am I NOT surprised?  But it can't be helped, I 
know."  He stubbed the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray, then 
rose from the bench, brushingfeathery particles of ash from his 
clothing as he crossed over to the sofa.  

"Hmm...Yes, Savil, you and Schuldich may break the news to Nagi."  

***

"Why thank you." Savil replied, scooting back in her chair and 
letting it squish up around her like the softest whipped cream.  
She always felt like she could vanish into the cushions if she 
wished, but finding one more sip in her teacup and did away with 
it, and remained in the world that was not velvet only.  "But 
you're never surprised."

None of them were.  Even Nagi.  And Nagi had no vested powers 
which would have enabled him to avoid it.  

The wine ended up perched on one of the many available end 
tables, and there its highlights took to them the vague sheen of 
silver as if the bottle had always been intended to be part of 
the room.

It was times like these she always wished fervently for an 
ottoman.  No matter.  And besides which, there were shortly more 
things to worry about besides an ottoman.  

As if summoned by some combination of the silence and the 
drifting, spectral smoke, Schuldich appeared at the door, and 
like his sister, made no effort to hide it.  Just rolled his 
dozing companion into a corner of the room and announced, 
"Farfie's back where he belongs.  I'm back too.  Funny how these 
things go."

He kicked off his shoes rather noisily and shortly slung himself 
over the back of the couch where his lover also happened to be 
seated, and getting an especially long gaze with nothing 
particularly chaste in it.

"You'll never guess what just happened."

A general silence ensued, and he pouted.  "You're supposed to 
say, 'Oh, whatever happened?' or something generally to that 
effect."

***      

"Oh, just tell me, Schuldich," moaned Nagi crossly.  He'd just 
resorted to setting all the sugar cubes to dancing a minuet 
above the coffee table for his own amusement.    

/Because I can think of much better things for you to do with 
your mouth than talking...'Hot Stuff'/  

Of course, that last came from Crawford.  

/Like.../

And he thought a particular image at him, without a care for what 
Savil might pick up en route.  

With a smile for Schuldich, Crawford drained the cup and set it 
back in its saucer on the table.  "You might not want to make 
Nagi wait.  He's been in a mood all day."

***  

As a matter of abject fact, Savil DID intercept the image 
Crawford intended for her brother, and she did *not* care one 
bit.  Old news.  Nagi's dancing sugar cubes were much more 
entertaining, and so she actually pried herself somewhat out of 
her cushions in order to better observe them and the peculiar 
quirks of their species of animated objects.  

Schuldich meanwhile wondered when Nagi was NOT in a mood, and 
took Bradley's saucy little suggestion to heart.  Or at least 
planned to. "As we all know," he began.  "By some quirk of fate, 
Saffie is now the herald in charge of one Ken Hidaka.  Oh, cruel 
world that has such luck in it."  He laughed, loud and long.

Saffie glanced down at her stockinged feet at this.  "Well," And 
she took to speaking at this.  "he actually decided to come back.  
Today.  Which is why I'm late."

"And me too!" Schuldich took a moment to crack his knuckles.  
"None of this's surprising, and nothing could make it 
surprising," /Least of all in this room./ "except perhaps, that 
he didn't come alone.  He's brought yummy little Aya with him."

***

The sugar cubes spiraled down into the dainty, double-handled 
bowl, and seemingly arranged themselves into a neat pile, the lid 
floating down after them to land with a tiny click.  Nagi noisily 
yawned, and swung his denim clad legs off the sofa.  

"Is that all?" he complained, smoothing his aqua colored silk 
shirt as he stood up.  "I thought it would be something 
interesting."

"Oh, but it is, Nagi.  It is!" piped Crawford, who had taken to 
ruffling his fingersSchuldich's wild red mane.  "And it's going 
to become even more interesting as the days roll by."    

Nagi displayed his indifference with a shrug.  "Whatever," he 
droned, sidestepping past the tableand Savil, pointedly 
ignoring 'the dog' as he passed him.  

"I'm out of here."

"Where are you going?"

Nagi looked up from the door where he now squatted, hurriedly 
tugging on his combat boots but not bothering to lace them up.  

"You're the fucking psychic, Crawford.  You should already know." 

"And you should watch your tongue."

Nagi tugged his jean legs down, and made for the door.  "Was 
that a threat, Crawford?  How original."  

The door opened and slammed before anyone could utter any sort of 
reply.  Crawford sighed into the last of his tea.  

"Teenagers.  Aren't they precious?"  

***

"But I wasn't done!" Schuldich whined.  "*I* had the wittiest 
speech about the two of them prepared, and Saffie was gonna give 
half of it."

Speaking of Saffie, she sat pouting at the now inanimate and 
therefore uninteresting sugar cubes.  ::You could play with them 
in whatever way your pretty head could dream of if you wanted 
too.  I bet they'd dance for you.:: Ho8 of course meant nothing 
having anything to do with sugar.

"Utterly charming all around, mon petit lapin." Schuldich finally 
answered his lover's distant question.  "Aren't you glad Saffie 
won't ever be one?"

She certainly seemed so, as she took to rather languorously 
watching the two of them.  ::Aren't we more amusing than Nagi, 
liebechen?:: Her brother asked of her.

::Sometimes.::

"You know, the really neat thing about all this is Aya's got no 
idea what to think about Ken and what's wrong with him."

"Not that Ken knows himself,"  Saffie offered,  "because he 
doesn't."

"Really?" 

"You never bothered to look, Schu-baby?"

"Ken's too sane to bother with." Saying so, he waved 
dismissively. 

But to anyone with even the slightest touch of telepathic gift, 
the room became a drowning drizzle of remembered emotions which 
belonged to none of the residents.  Saffie even sent a little 
special for Brad in the hopes he might side with her on the 
matter.  No thanks audibly appeared when he scowled at her 
brother, but what would the point of that have been?  

"OK, so I'm lazy and fixated on the Weiss that isn't mine." 
Schuldich's fingers came up and twirled around the dark locks of 
his lover as he pointedly changed the subject.  "I'm so glad you 
grew it long, you know.  But you knew I would be."

***

"Of course I did.  But then, you probably know that one of the 
reasons why I decided to grow it out was to encourage you to do 
exactly what you're doing now."  

/I love it when you're agreeable, Schuldich.  I will have to 
reward you...later.   But first.../

"Ah, that was remarkable, Savil darling, all those swirling, 
frantic emotions.  And all that UST!  I almost wish I 
could read thoughts, for theirs' will be quite delicious, I'm 
sure."

He began to stroke one of Schuldich's thighs.  "You two will 
have to tell me everything you *hear*."  

***

"Taste," Saffie corrected.  "And of course I'll let you in on it.  
How could I disappoint your good, well, taste? Hmm? I don't know 
about my brother though..."

"You're the herald," Schuldich retorted amiably with a little 
smirk as he rubbed his thigh against his boyfriend's.  

"What difference does that make?" This asked with a bit of a 
squeak on her part as she levered herself from her chair and 
stretched like a ballerina doll once she was free of it.  "Even 
Bradley knows how I feel about that. I should probably tell Aya 
too."

"Should, but where will it get us? For being a Terran now, he's 
still holding up with that holier-than-thou white hunter 
routine." ::And I'm aware of the fact I sound like I enjoy it.::

::You should have seen him in the back of the Rolls then.:: 
"Between the two of us, we DID," speaking, she had rather ambled 
over towards the couch, and so stood now, as if waiting to show 
the two of them something, no malice in her eyes, for anyone.  No 
mischief.

To this girl other people's minds were about as comfy as her 
chair and worth the promise of no less pleasure.  "...We DID 
convince Bradley to let me have a puppy.  Thank you, Bradley.  I 
still think it was awfully sweet of you."

"Where are you going again?" a suddenly chuckling Schuldich asked 
rather out of the blue.

"I'm going to play hide-and-seek with Nagi.  The tea woke me up." 
She winked at Crawford as if for once there was a secret her 
brother had nothing to do with.  "Don't tell me where he is now.  
It'll be more fun if I have to find him myself."

She had bent down very close, as if meaning to kiss one of the 
two of them.  Perhaps both.  As it was, she did not, but rather 
spun away and floated out the door after having taken a moment to 
pet her "puppy" behind the ears.

Schuldich, once she had gone, grinned afresh and turned to face 
his lover, taking a moment to cup his cheek with his hand.  
"Agreeable am I? You KNOW where thinking like that will get you."

The last words he whispered onto the cigarette that dangled from 
Brad's mouth, sending the smoke up in feathery swirls that 
blinked out like hazy stars.  But he behaved as his sister, 
merely hovering, sensing the sensual little ire at his sudden 
switch of persona, formless as the smoke itself.  One of his 
hands crept down into Bradley's pocket, stroked him along the hip 
for a moment, even as it reached for the silver case within.

"Absolutely nowhere."

And just like that, as if by the graces of an overly-artistic 
scene cut, he was standing on the rug, twirling a pilfered 
cigarette in his left hand.  He swayed about the room with it to 
some tuneless song of his own derision, taking a moment to light 
the fag on one of the candles that still burned atop the piano.  

And then he slunk off to the deck, leaving a trail for Crawford 
to follow.  His socks, his belt.  The sun glasses he had worn 
like a bow in his hair.  His shirt.

He stood, framed in the light of the two moons with a brightness 
near akin to that of a fading or rising day- save that he was 
cast all over in cyan, seeming to shift to transparent and back 
again with the will of the aurora overhead.  The night swam warm 
with a breeze like breath all over his half-bare form.  His hair 
fell in his eyes.  Rather than brush it away he stood still and 
serene: enjoying his cigarette, enjoying being admired as he 
rolled the thing back and forth in his lips: kissed it, caressed 
it with his tongue.  Tasted it.

Did his best to make Brad jealous.    

***

All Nagi had wanted was the dark and a bit of peace.  What he 
got instead was a room whose ceiling was strewn with blinking, 
multicolored lights and silver stars, and whose smoky air 
reverberated with the electronic throb of a drum machine.  
The whole space shuddered with thebodies dancing, drinking, 
mingling; and in secret, velvet curtained corners, moaning.  

Judging by the crowd, Nagi was the only male on Terra (save 
for 'the dog') who wasn't part of a pair.  And while 
he'd liked living the solitary life on Anti-Terra, on Terra, 
everything had changed.  He had changed.  He was no longer 
quite so afraid of his companions.  He felt slightly more in 
control of himself, as much as a teenage boy could be in control.   

Oh, yes, he rather liked his new self. 

He'd wandered around until an empty table finally came into view, 
and he sat so he could face the dance floor with its mass of 
gyrating figures.  

And as Nagi watched, he felt himself get swept away by it all, 
felt his burgeoning desire uncoil in his groin, and flow through 
him.  He latched on to a couple who were more having sex than 
dancing.  Hips thrusting and rocking, lips joined in kiss after 
kiss, eager hands roaming over (barely) clothed flesh.  He knew 
he shouldn't watch, that he should look away, be embarrassed, but
he couldn't help but picture himself like that: being held so 
tightly in someone's arms, pressed up against a wall and kissed 
and stripped and...

He closed his eyes, the picture swimming through his mind over 
and over, and fought the urge to touch himself.  The sound of 
something heavy and distinctly glasslike landing on the table 
fell upon his ears then, followed by a low voice.  

"Your usual, sir." 

Nagi's eyes sprang open and he found himself in the company of a 
dish full of two, very hot fudge drenched scoops of peppermint 
ice cream, and one very attractive, very familiar boy--one he'd 
met his first night on Terra.  One who spoke Japanese without a 
trace of his native French accent.

"Evening, Nagi." 

"Evening, Olivier."  

The boy, a seventeen year old with dark brown hair and catlike, 
gray eyes, broke into a grin.  "I was wondering if you'd come by 
tonight." 

Nagi shrugged, and sat up in his seat, taking up the long spoon 
which lay on a cloth napkin beside the parfait glass.  "Are you 
working tonight, or is this merely a social visit?"

"Both, actually."

"Hm?"

"I was going to come see you, but since you're here..."  Olivier 
sidled between the chairs of the two tables, so as to whisper in 
Nagi's ear.  

"I get off in five minutes.  Why don't we go...do something?"

The way Olivier had said those last two words, all husky and 
sweet and low, made Nagi want to kiss him. Instead he locked eyes 
with him and slowly licked the spoon clean. It seemed that he 
wouldn't have to take care of matters all by himself after all.   

"I'll be waiting."  

***

On the Planet, there were three meeting rooms reserved for the 
upper class and their business deals, occasionally what parties 
could be snuck in after supper: these chambers were notoriously 
vacant following dinner hours.  However, that evening Ken's 
misfortune had the indirect result of there being a Herald posted 
outside at least one door as shrill squawks emanated from behind.  

She was quite darker in complexion than any of the Heralds 
usually found meandering in and out of the room she guarded; more 
pecan shell than porcelain.  Her fine, straight hair hung fairly 
straight and reached somewhere between her shoulders and her 
earlobes, which were both pierced, albeit unadorned.  Her locks 
were neither brown nor blond, but some of both; her figure 
neither nubile nor immature; her nose delicate but unquestionably 
blunt.  She had very lovely eyes, large and bright, though 
despite their pale and sticky blueness, their color was decidedly 
opaque.

She stood now, shifting between one foot and the other like a 
stork, or some uncoordinated equivalent of stork, for she 
continually lost her balance and once fell outright.  

Fiona promptly did was she was very, very best at.

She stamped her foot impatiently, chewed her nails and pretended.

/Oh let's see, where would I rather be right now...?/

Mage Ysanne's screechy voice once again penetrated the door 
between them.

/I'd rather... be having a root canal./

Two young men in the only part of the grand hall she could see, 
got in a groping fight, bulged in their pants and giggled 
absurdly as they ran off.

/I'd rather be a nurse in the hopeless case ward in Watership 
Down./

The fourteenth person that night asked her the time, and she told 
them one at least fifteen minutes off just because she could.

/I'd rather be a whore on Antiterra!/

Though speaking of the time, wasn't her guard dog shift about to 
end? Ugh, if having been sent to The Planet, on a Tuesday, on a 
business class flight from Chicago wasn't bad enough.  If having 
to endure constant phone calls from her mistress every hour from 
the minute she arrived wasn't bad enough.  If having to calm down 
SAVIL of all people the night before hadn't sucked royally.

The person coming to relieve her of her duties was... late.

When Shavri finally DID appear, she also happened to have 
apparently not noticed her faux pas.  Obviously.  The woman had 
no sense of direction or time- a common ailment among kept girls 
who served as heralds when no one else could. 

"Gee, they still in there?" Shavri, taking a moment to flick some 
hair out of her mouth.

"Sure are, you know Ysanne."  

"You look beat."

/Well thank you for pointing out the obvious, ya lube-for 
brains!/ Fiona had to smile or scream, so she smiled.  "Oh, I'm 
not just beat.  I have blisters on both feet and a migraine."  
Before her companion had a chance to reply, she added, stepping 
away from the door.  "Enjoy yourself now.  I'm going to bed."

/Not that I'll get to be alone for any sensible duration but 
anyway.../ 

And so Fiona, having pulled off her shoes at last and introduced 
her soar feet to the less demanding state of socks only, began to 
creep down the grand hall.  Or rather, stumble.  Ah, to think 
sleep was just a quarter mile away.  And her beloved soaking tub 
for her poor little toes.  And little hotel refrigerators with 
port wine spreadable cheese! She smiled almost insanely.

"AND YOU CAN'T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL ABOUT AYA! YOU TOOK 
HER FROM ME, AND YOU'RE NOT SORRY, SO WHY THE HELL SHOULD I CARE 
ABOUT YOU AND YOUR SISTER?! I HATE YOU! I. HATE. YOU!"

/Jesus Hubert CHRIST!/

She winced.  She growled.  She decided that reasonable or not! 
This once at least, she would evoke her privileges as a 
disciplinarian.  True the, "No yelling in the hall" rule probably 
hadn't been enforced since there had BEEN a hall.  Oh was this 
guy going to pay! PAY!   

Gooey, worn feet or not, she stormed with hurried grace into the 
grove, eyes aflame with power and primal rage brought on by lack 
of sleep.

She wilted almost at once.

/That's... Savil's new boy./

True, the only true philosophy, at least written, for Heralds, 
was that of keeping one's charges some sort of happy.  Since many 
of those men had no family of any kind, for the most part not 
semblance of such things lived on Terra, it was true- shamefully 
true -that many of Heralds, vivacious and wild or not, tended to 
get a little motherly.

Fiona ruefully realized she was one of them, though it came with 
cataclysmic speed to her consciousness, nearly knocked her over 
in just the way good little revelations are not supposed to.  

She reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief which 
she dangled in front of Aya's face.  "Hey, you OK?"

***

Ran hadn't expected anyone to respond to his angry screams--at 
least, not in the way that this stranger had.  So when he had 
become aware of her presence, so brought to his attention by the 
fluttering scrap of embroidered linen, he jerked away from her, 
very much startled. 

He silently rejected her offer of a handkerchief, electing 
instead to dry his streaming eyes with his sweater cuffs.  

"I'll live," Ran muttered as he got to his feet, 
ducking back into the night-struck shelter of the trees in an 
effort to better conceal himself.  


***

/Great.  The one day out of the year I actually bother to help 
someone, he turns out to be a loon!/

"Hey, hey! Sorry, alright.  Dumb question."  With that, Fiona 
slunk slowly after him.  Her pale eyes gleamed dangerously 
through the shade as it hit her too, and she seemed to realize 
this, and so squinted a bit so the effect wouldn't be quite as 
utterly bothersome as it usually was.

"No hard feelings now.  Sorry I jacked your koi and all, but it's 
kinda my job.  You may not believe it, but I'm actually the 
little brat's pen pal- Savil that is.  So, hmm...?" At this she 
tapped her cheek rhetorically.  "I guess that mean's I'm part 
yours, and I must be here to help you.  C'mon, you got a room or 
somethin'? If not, you can come hide in mine for awhile.  I mean 
I know you need SOMETHING."

***

At the mention of Savil's name, Ran's dewy eyes lit up with 
fervent ire.  

"I don't want anything from anyone who knows *her*.  And I don't 
want to have anything more to do with her, at all!  Her or her 
brother!"  

***

"Well then!" Fiona began, trying her best to look offended when 
in fact all she happened to be was in searing pain.  She'd 
stepped on something hard and her toes were not pleased.  "I 
don't suppose you'll be getting any help from anyone then, 'cause 
this is Terra and unfortunately for you, people actually know 
each other here."

This said, she spun around on her heels, which were the only part 
of her feet willing to be spun on.   "You wanna sit out here and 
mope like a crazy person? You do that."

But this was NOT announced whilst walking off.  In fact, she 
lingered for what seemed like an eternity, peering over her 
shoulder. 

***

"That bastard Schuldich practically kills my sister, but I'm 
crazy?  Figures," muttered Ran.  "If you don't want to help me, 
Herald, that's fine.  I didn't ask for it, not from you or 
anyone--including Savil.  I'm sure she and her precious brother 
has laughed over me already."

With one last frowning glare, Ran headed towards the mouth of 
the grove.  

***

/Well... so much for that./

"Oh damn you! Whoever you are!" Fiona stamped her foot at this.  
Her headache had actually up and vanished somewhere in the fray.  
But her feet... oh, her poor, poor feet.  The stamping sure 
didn't help them.

/I am SO not cut out for this job./

And with that, she sat down herself, more or less unable to 
continue until her blisters had been fanned.  

/Hmph.  That guy's bad luck to run into me, I guess.  Maybe 
somebody else'll find him./

And then she found something herself.  Specifically, a little 
something glinting in the shrubs.

A key.

A hotel room key.

But why, oh, why did she hate it so? Why did it make her angry?

Because one thing that fulfilled both those criteria happened to 
be foolish people.  And only one foolish person had bothered her 
that day- one who was still within somewhat easy reach.

"HEY YOU!" she cried, thereby breaking the very rule she had been 
intending to enforce. "I've got the key to your room here! You 
wanna sleep under the stars or something? Fine, but whatever 
neurosis is eatin' up your sorry head, I'm sorry! I suck with 
people, but so do you, and you need a bed! I know right where 
this place is.  HEY!"

***

Ran'd heard her, all right, but despite Fiona's hails, he ignored  
her.  And he had every intention of ignoring her until she tired 
of chasing him.  Unfortunately, ignoring Fiona was about as easy 
as ignoring a pissed off wasp.  

Closing his eyes in exasperation, Ran came to an abrupt halt. 
Why couldn't she just leave him alone?   

She came thundering up behind him, and when she came to a stop, 
Ran turned around to find her dangling the key before his eyes 
as if it were a dead rat.  He snatched it from her grasp.  

"All right!  I've got the damn key.  Are you happy now?"  

Turning away from her, Ran jammed the key into his pocket.  
"Which way to the hotel, Herald?"

***

Under normal circumstances, Fiona had a perfectly lovely (not to 
mention puerile and reprehensible) victory dance.  But even if 
her feet hadn't hurt, even if she hadn't been awake for... fifty 
hours now? It felt like a million.  Well, even if it was the last 
chance she had to dance in the whole history of the universe, she 
couldn't have danced in front of Ran.

/No, I'm not happy in the least, thank you very much.  I feel 
worse than when I first came over to harass you./

/Why me?/

/I bet you're asking the same thing right now./

/Shit./

"Well, the FRONT door to the hotel is thataway, but I'm gonna 
assume you're NOT in the mood to deal with disco music and a guy 
who walks around with a cardboard buster sword. That's why I'm 
taking you through the back door, which is the other way."

With that, she rather cautiously waved him along and spent the 
first few minutes of their walk playing side-to-side tag with 
him.  He would walk faster, then she would, unwittingly too.  All 
in an effort to NOT been seen with her she supposed.  They 
bounced back and forth next to each other just like that.

Modulating her voice to fit his mercurial moods proved harder 
than keeping up with him vs. not getting ahead.

"I said I was sorry, and I realize you don't believe me but at 
least let me introduce myself without the hankie this time.  I'm 
Fiona.  I don't have any name besides that.  No last name.  No 
herald name.  I'm just Fiona."

She offered he hand on the off chance he didn't feel like biting 
it.

"And I'll call you whatever you want, but I don't think that 
happens to be Ken no koi."

***

Ran came to a halt again, sparing her hand the briefest of 
glances.  He had to admit to himself (very grudgingly) that he 
was intrigued--and he hoped she couldn't divine his feelings
 as readily as...everyone else seemed to be able to do.

"Just Fiona?  Hardly.  You're a too much of a pushy, bad-tempered 
nuisance to be 'just' anything.  And I'm...I'm Ran."  

And he bowed.  

***

"Why thank you, Ran.  That's the nicest compliment I've gotten in 
years.  Incidentally, it's nice to meet you too." Fiona returned 
the bow in a decidedly awkward fashion.  Not that her Japanese 
didn't already reek of an American accent.  

And almost at once, perhaps mutually fearing one another's 
nerves, they nodded and began to walk down the hall again, this 
time in a more harmonious fashion.  They had come to what 
appeared to be a service hall by now, though somehow, the grass 
which ringed the beginning of the hall seemed to speak of being 
seldom trodden upon.  The "back entrance" admittedly was more of 
a pain than a secret.

Mostly because it involved the service stairs- a tower of tinny 
industrial tread.  Fiona heaved a sigh and started up.  

/Ow... ow... ow.../

And that pain reminded her of another.  Partially to keep her 
mind off her feet, and partially to keep anyone's conscience off 
of Ran, she started talking.  Whether he was listening or not she 
decided not to guess.

"Look, I might as well tell you straight out.  I'm not officially 
a Herald, so you shouldn't call me that.  I'm allowed to wear the 
uniform and I have all the rights but none of the  
responsibilities.  It's a convenience thing.  I'm Mage Ysanne's 
kept girl, and yeah, I'm only fifteen.  You'll see a lot of that 
here.  It's a noble old Terran tradition.  I might notta told her 
yet, but I put in for a transfer, so at least in my case, it's 
not forever."  

***

"Well, calling you 'herald' sounded better than calling you 
'girl'.  I've never called any female 'girl', even when the 
person in question was one.  It's not...proper."

Nor was, in his opinion, the idea of 'keeping'.  Of course, he 
didn't quite know what she meant by it, but he had a feeling it 
wasn't anything truly good.  Not for the one who was kept 
especially.  

Ran peeked at her out of the corner of his eye, intending to ask 
her about that particular Terran custom, his expression suddenly 
twisting in a scowl when he saw her.  It seemed to him that she 
was limping, albeit very slightly, as if she were trying very 
hard NOT to do it.  

He caught gently Fiona by the arm, and drew her to a halt, 
instantly letting go of her the moment she stopped.  

"I noticed you're limping.  Did you somehow injure yourself?"  

***

Fiona was very nearly insulted by this eventuality.  Not simply 
by the accusatory nuances of Ran's voice, but in the mere fact he 
had taken it upon himself to worry after her when HE was the one 
plainly in need of help... or something!

But it seemed a bit endearing still.  Endearing things often 
injure someone's pride.  To bad it happened to be hers.  Freed of 
his hands, she continued her ascent, though with a bit less 
haste.

"Of course I'm limping! My feet are all blisters.  I'm either 
running errands for that woman or doing her! And for the past two 
days, it's been errands, errands, errands!" This said, she found 
herself falling into a distinctly mocking nasal voice which in 
other circumstances would have been a nicely comical imitation 
Ysanne.  " 'Fiiiooonaaa, get me another bottle of wine!' 
'Fiiiooonaaa, go tell them I'll be late!' 'Fiiiooonaa, powder my 
nose so I WILL be late!' 'Fiiiooonaaa, flick my 
tits in public because I find it funny!' Why did you THINK I put 
in for a transfer?"

A pause on one of the landings to catch her breath with the hopes 
it would smother her anger.  "I'm not saying everyone's got it so 
bad, but I do.  Callin' me 'girl's pretty much right.  That's how 
it is."

***

"Maybe everyone else calls you 'girl'," he replied, "but I won't."  

She clucked at him dismissively, but before she could venture 
towards the second set of stairs, Ran scooped her off her abused 
feet, draping her over his shoulder as if she weighed so very 
little.  

***

"Hey! Put me down!" Fiona screeched almost at once.  From the 
pitch, any unfortunate soul within earshot could have told it was 
an empty, oft-used cry that popped out by accident.  Especially 
Ran, it could be assumed, since she didn't bother fidgeting at 
all.

He said nothing in response to her, and so she capitulated more 
or less to herself.  "What's the big idea now? You're what, a 
year older than me? Man, you got nerve, you really do."

/Not that nerve's usually bad./

/But it sure doesn't look good on him, what with those great, big 
baby violet eyes.  Totally, totally wrong./

She sighed, slapped herself on the forehead and proclaimed to the 
entire hall, "Oh! Alright.  So long as you don't start pitying me 
next.  Your door's on the next landing, not that I can point that 
out otherwise from this position.  I've walked on worse."

*** 

"So you've walked on worse, have you?" Ran asked, pointedly 
ignoring her commands for release.  "Well, then, I guess it won't 
matter if you don't subject your poor battered feet to yet more 
abuse."  

Ran reached the next landing, and, cradling his burden carefully 
with a flattened hand on the small of Fiona's back, opened the 
door and entered the blue plush carpeted hallway of floor 3.  
Neatly he dodged a waiter with a cart, who swung to one side and 
stared at him with shocked black eyes, but let him pass 
unchallenged nevertheless.  

"No, Fiona-*chan*, I am not a year older than you.  I am five 
years older.  And yes, I do have nerve.  And pity was the last 
thing on my mind."

At last, he found his hotel room door, and, after a moment of 
struggling to extricate his key from his pocket, he opened it, 
and swept inside, Fiona and all.  

Fiona who he carried over to the nearest of the two overstuffed, 
white armchairs and dropped her onto it.  Lifting her feet a 
little, Ran shoved the leather ottoman under them.  

"For as long as Ken is Ysanne's guest, you will be mine...Fiona-
chan."  

***

By the grand graces of space time and its many kinks, Fiona 
somehow managed to avoid her initial response, "You're cute and 
all, but no thanks; I don't go for boys," by biting her tongue.  
Literally.

But chancing another long look into those towards Ran, she 
realized, quite astutely, that hot, body thumping sex, such as 
one generally would have expected to engage in following a remark 
of those ilks, did not exactly count as something on her 
rescuer's mind.

/Rescuer my ass!/

As it was, she said nothing for a record amount of time.  Ten 
seconds or so by her disagreeable watch.  

And then she grinned.  "You can't keep me here, y'know.  Not that 
I wouldn't stay on my own, whether you had asked me or not.  When 
Ysanne leaves, so do I.  It's just the way things are.  So, you 
wanna torment yourself with me anyway? Be my guest."

She yawned.

"Frankly, I'm too tired to argue."

***

/Just what I figured./ 
 
A thin smile stole over Ran's face just for a millisecond, and 
then it was back to partly cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms.  
 
"It seems to me that you're too tired to do a lot of things, 
Fiona-chan."  
 
He settled himself in the wingback's twin, and proceeded to 
remove his boots, tossing them in the general direction of the 
door. Then he sat back, and let his bones sink down into the 
cushions.  He was exhausted, and his slight fever still lingered.  
  
"First of all, I don't consider it a torment for you to be around  
me. Second--If you get a summons from your mistress, then by all  
means, leave. I wouldn't want her to beat you or starve you on  
account of me."  
 
*** 

Fiona boggled at her host's ignorance, and then accepted it for 
the sake of Zen and Zenly things.  "Beat me? Starve me? I may be 
kept but I'm not a slave! She works me to death, and she makes me 
lick her in places you got vested interest in.  That's all.  I 
thought I made that clear." And then her belligerence died a 
quiet death..

/Well, he wants to be a crazy boy and baby a woman who anyone 
else would call their mother, so be it!/

/Girl, Fiona, Girl.  You're just a girl.  And a kept girl at 
that!/

"OK, so maybe I oughtta make that clear." That decided, input 
from Ran or not, she stretched and adjusted the angle of her bum 
to her seat.  "There're a LOTTA kept people on Terra, and I 
mean... probably like twenty percent of the population, counting 
the heralds, the mages, the MAIDSERVANTS, keeps or is kept.  It's 
just what they do since most people here have somethin' nasty 
against marriage.  Not that you can't get married here.  People 
think it's a stupid straight thing."

She listlessly rolled her head so her eyes were fixed straight on 
her companion's, closed or not.  A pause.  "Aren't I cheerful.  
Not that you're doin' any better.  Trust me, you'll get used to 
the violets after awhile."    

***

Hands folded loosely in his lap, Ran continued to sit with his 
eyes closed and  sifted through all Fiona had just told him.  

"Norm or not, it sounds like you don't care for being kept," 
he said, turning to her at last.  "What happens to a kept 
person when his or her keeper dies?"  

***

Fiona bit her lip inside in mock contemplation, or rather to keep 
herself from smirking in the latest of her small conquests of Ran 
and his attention.  

And yet, she was all too willing to hand over the information as 
it were.  All blunt honesty intact, she went on.  "Well, more or 
less the same thing that would happen if the keeper and the 
keepee in question were just regular lovers.  Not a lotta people 
here got kids, but let's not dwell on the obvious there."

She closed her eyes and kicked her heels for no good reason 
whatsoever.  "If any Terran dies, their current lover gets all 
their stuff.  With kept people, the lines are just a little 
better defined, since things do get... sticky sometimes.  
Especially with threesomes and recent breakups.  We just had a 
nasty one back in Valdemar, besides this one..."

A pause, she found the hanging question on her own with no 
further prompting.  "Oh, and the kept one 'goes free' I guess you 
could say.  Not to mention in Ken's case, Kaze hadn't been 
keeping anyone else since they broke up or whatever, which is why 
the villa's his."

Speaking of hanging questions, she rather gulped... /Next up, 
"Hey! How the hell do you know about Kaze!?"/    

***

"Well, it's nice to know that personal privacy is held sacrosanct 
on Terra," he replied, dripping sarcasm. "Savil apparently 
doesn't know how to keep quiet."  
 
With a disgusted huff, Ran tore his eyes away from Fiona, and 
looked up at the ceiling instead. The ceiling with its terracotta 
molding and Green Men in the corners.  
 
"Well, then, Fiona-chan, since you'll probably tell at least one 
person all about the person whom Ken brought back with him, then 
I think its only fair you tell me all you know about Ken and 
Kaze.  And I have a feeling you know quite a bit." 

***

Fiona blinked hard. Several times. 
 
"Savil? You think... Savil told me this?" A loud dismissive huff. 
"If you want, I'll go back to my room and show you the letter 
where she said something along the lines of 'Not to go over the 
details of La Scandale again, but I find myself the herald of one 
Hidaka-dono...'." 
 
For some reason, the end of that sentence refused to come to her, 
and rather she observed Ran's white throat as he craned his head 
back. 
 
"Well, I know more about it than the ceiling does. Most people in 
Terra or The Planet would. We haven't exactly got any magazines 
floatin' around, but that doesn't mean we don't have GOSSIP. Why 
do you think I made a point of explaining who I was? So you 
wouldn't embarrass yourself in public with me." 
 
Herself adequately put down for the time being, she folded her 
hands just below her ribs. "The story goes, I believe, that... 
well, three years ago by now, Ken and Kaze were both Terrans and 
they played for the J-league. Seems Kaze got into some huge 
gambling ring back on Antiterra and ended up drugging Ken to make 
the whole mess look like it was his fault, then leaving him for 
dead. Something about a torched warehouse in there... Of course, 
no one knew this was the case until more recently. Oh no! We all 
pegged Kaze as the victim here as well! Serves us right I guess. 
Well, Kaze ended up sub boss of some assassin group working for 
Ivan the Good Enough, and Ivan the Terrible found out about it 
and had him killed. 
 
"Now, you have to understand here, that Ken was disgraced on 
Terra as well as Antiterra- ending up on the bad side of the 
public eyes like that. They kicked 'im out. And now, months of 
red tape later, that's been retracted and he's the sole inheritor 
of what was Kaze's"

***
 
Slumping in his seat, Ran folded his arms loosely across his 
chest.  
 
"So now he's his own master?"  He shot her a look out of the 
corner of his eye, but didn't bother to leave a space for her 
answer. She'd give that soon enough, of that he was certain.  
 
"Just where is this villa anyway?"  

***

Following Nagi through the people-drenched hallway on Terra, 
would have been, for the average person, rather like trying to 
fumble though satin after a piece of silk.

Not so for Sapphire Anne-Marie Marlow, who, owing to familiarity 
rather than distinctness, found she could follow the telekinetic 
just about anywhere- that if his will had been a kite, she could 
have tied a string to it, and it would have hoisted her up, up 
and away to wherever the went.

And the kite! It wheeled higher and higher and higher!

With an emotion that, thanks to her brother and his various 
eclectic romantic romps over the years, she knew.  She could have 
cast up her shields at this, and gone for the thrill of ordinary 
sneaking.  Only one place he could be going with a heart so full 
of creamy chocolate-peppermint...

...LUST.

But Nagi's lust happened to be quite yummy.  Like ice cream.  
Funny how Naoe-san always ended up tasting like things he liked, 
or things he hated.  One of the two.  Peppermint for surprise, 
chocolate for the sauce of both kinds.

The Kira Kira Club was packed for it being an off night, so 
needless to say, no one particularly noticed her, and if they 
would have, she happened to be worth little more than a murmur 
regarding how cute she was.  

Heralds got in everywhere, regardless of age.  Once actually 
inside and spangled liberally with wayward glitter, she obliged 
herself to Nagi, even though other tasty considerations bounced 
against her own.  

With no poke, no kick, no words, no explanation whatsoever, Savil 
flopped down in the chair across from her playmate.

"Found you."

***

The moment he became aware of Savil's presence, Nagi threw his  
shields up, and gave her the mildest of looks.  "So you have, 
even though I clearly didn't WANT to be found. My, aren't you 
clever?"  
 
He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin, then 
dropped it back into his lap, spoon once more in hand, spirits 
somewhat low.  So much for doing what he wanted behind Crawford's 
back.  
 
"So Schuldich let his little watch imp escape from the demon's 
den, and you chose tonight of all nights to follow me." He took a 
frozen, fudge oozing bite of his dessert, and dabbed at his lips 
again. "I'm honored, but I suspect you'll find me quite the bore 
this evening, so...you'd be better off looking for your 
entertainment elsewhere."  
 
***

"Oh, but you're such a cute, little baka," Savil said. "I think 
you're lots and lots of fun, Nagi-chan.  You can't bore me."

::And that shield's up trick may work on my brother but not me.::

Lines thought and uttered, she leaned forward on the table, a 
soft-focus grin stealing about her lips, even as with the same 
moments, her crystalline blue eyes seemed to be shifting out of 
childhood; being hers, and not being hers.  

"Besides, I can't exactly go back to the house.  Who knows what 
my brother and Bradley are up too? I don't want to embarrass... 
Bradley.  He doesn't like it when I walk in on them."

Not a hint of sarcasm in the words, but they couldn't exactly be 
taken for anything but in the Kira Kira club with its lights so 
blotted out now and again with the shadows of those who chose to 
love... in public.  "And I thought of a game we could play. I do 
KNOW what you want Olivier to do, and that you think I'm a pain. 
So how about I make it up to you and do some convincing?  He 
looks like a lot more fun than the dog!"

And swirling her finger in a puddle of pinkish condensation left 
by the ice cream.  "Kinky too."

***

The spoon chimed like a bell in the ice cream smeared glass, and 
Nagi pushed it to one side. And he had noted her sly remark about 
his shield, but defiantly,
he held it in the upright and locked position.  
 
"I expect that sort of intrusion into my thoughts from your 
brother, Savil. However, he isn't a herald, and, for that matter, 
you aren't mine, and I don't believe I gave you permission to 
delve into my mind." 

He leaned forward on his elbows, still as mild of mien, still as 
soft-spoken as usual. "Now why would you want to help me in my 
quest with Olivier? Running out of interesting things to gossip 
about with your ni-chan? Or do you simply like to watch, Savil?"  
 
*** 

"Nagi-chan," She intoned once more.  The syllables always seemed 
to pop on her tongue like cherry soda. "If I stay out of your 
thoughts, they'll die with you someday." These words hung for 
sometime in mid air before the chiming of the synthetic treble 
cracked them and they hit the floor. 

"But what fun is that to think about? Especially here.  We've 
lived together awfully long... you could almost be a brother to 
me too. And you should certainly know me well enough by now, that 
you would understand sometimes I do *things* because they can be 
done and I'm not in the mood to resist.  Maybe I just want to 
help you because I'm bored, or maybe I'm actually doing something 
nice."  Then with a little stamp of her foot that nearly missed 
his own.  "An' I do NOT gossip!"

Once more rather serene and contemplating summoning a waiter to 
bring her a glass of Perrier, she took a moment to look over the 
fluxing crowd with a fondness that wore some inkling of imphood. 

Said with her eyes still far away:  "But if you want me to go, 
I'll go."      

***

Nagi studied Savil: Her shining, fluttering ribbons, her softly  
gleaming uniform, the absent look in her eye. And then he 
shrugged.  
 
"Stay or leave, Savil, I don't really care. You'll do what you  
want. You usually do."  
 
He propped his chin on the heel of his hand, and glanced around 
the room. Saw Olivier say a word to another waiter. His amiable, 
would-be lover looked over at him then, and gave him a smile. The 
apron came off and he disappeared through the swinging doors 
leading to the kitchen.  
 
Five minutes had come and gone, and now... 
 
Nagi bit his lip, and looked over at Savil, murmuring, "What sort  
of encouragement were you wanting to give to Olivier anyway?" 
 
*** 

"Oh, that *special* kind." 

This offered casually as a comment on the weather, she finally 
faced her bemused companion, only to find that HE had looked away 
from her. 

"We never get you any presents, Nagi-chan.  But you should have 
one."

The pulse of the song began to waver and ripple into another, and 
for possibly the first time in years, a woman could be heard 
moaning, albeit a superficial digitized one.  

In your embrace
Mercury and solace
Reach out for me
Reach out...   

/If they hadn't started it in the middle, I'd almost consider 
staying, but given the circumstances.../

Without another word, she swung herself up from her seat, and 
bent down besides her companion, whispering into his ear.  "How 
about we try it a little bit first, and you let me know if you 
can tell the difference..."

Then with great gaiety as she waved and vanished into the crowd.

"Ja! Nagi-chan."

The crowd drank her down though her laughter still rang somewhere 
nearby. Olivier appeared at the kitchen door once again, not a 
trace of drug mind touches on him, not a waver in his step or 
smile. 

***

Crawford watched the shifting, blue-green patterns of the Terran  
aurora nocturnalis as if fell across his lover, giving him the  
appearance of a moon-kissed undine.  With pleasure, he watched 
the undulations of those lush lips around that oh-so-lucky 
cigarette.  He'd never been so envious of an inanimate object 
as he was at that moment.  

Crawford refilled his teacup and removed his glasses and placed 
them back in their clamshell case.  He wouldn't need them for 
what he planned to do, anyway.    

/Disobedient, and brash, and teasing.  Now that's the Schuldich 
I'm used to.  I would ask, "Do you know what you're doing to me?" 
But I suspect you already know.../

He picked up the cup and padded almost silently across the room,  
following the path of Schuldich's strewn clothing to the balcony.  

/And that wasn't exactly what I meant when I said I could think 
of better things for you to do with that mouth./

"You're very naughty, Schuldich, disobeying me."  

A warm breeze danced across the balcony, tangling Schuldich's 
wild mane, and ruffling his own hair and tugging at his poet's 
garb as if it considered them an affront.  As if he were.  The 
thought made him smile.

He casually strolled over to where Schuldich was lounging, and 
came up to stand behind him.  Lightly, he traced the curves of 
his shoulder with his little finger.    

"I might have to punish you."

He drew his hand away, only to bring it up to Schuldich's neck, 
lifting the thick, shaggy veil away from his nape.  Crawford 
paused to admired the long, milky swoop of his nape as he 
sipped at his still steaming tea.  

"But that doesn't surprise me in the least."

The cup wound up on the edge of the wide balcony rail, and 
Crawford's tea-warmed mouth wound up on the back of Schuldich's 
neck.

***

Schuldich let his eyes fall closed and his breath be taken quick 
and sexy from his lips.  His empty hand came up and caught the 
one buried in his hair, which he held for awhile, thoughtfully 
stroking.  Though he chuckled with his mouth full of smoke in the 
end.  "I know exactly what I'm doing to you, inside and out.  
Bradley, mon petit lapin."

Another lazy drag and the phantom lights above them flashed 
suddenly like aqua gems in the heavens.  "Don't act like that 
name annoys you.  There's a part of you that likes it.  As for 
punishing me..."

He swayed, and his jeans began to creep down his hips of their 
own accord- he made no effort to snatch after them.  "I'm not in 
the mood.  What can I do instead, hmm?"

This uttered, he took the hand he held, uncurling its ivory 
fingers, and sliding one of them into his mouth in place of the 
cigarette, which tumbled from his grasp, left only a thread of 
thin fog in the air where it passed.

***

Brad didn't know where to look: At Schuldich's full, teal-stained  
lips sucking on his finger, or at the shadowy, partially exposed  
delineations of his groin--or at any spot in between those two 
points, for that matter. Every inch of Schuldich was alluring.  
 
But then his tongue slithered up and then down his finger, and 
all thoughts of voyeurism were forgotten. His eyes fell shut as 
the most pleasurable little twinges passed from his fingertip 
through him, straight to the center of his body.  
 
The unexpected image of that talented tongue sweeping up and down 
his quickly hardening member popped into his head, and Crawford 
had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. From somewhere in his 
mind, he heard Schuldich's silent laugh.  
 
He opened his eyes, and found himself staring at the spinning, 
twin pearls which the Terrans called their moons. Burning with 
desire, so close to the edge of losing the control he so 
cherished.  
 
But then, Schuldich always had that effect on him.  
 
Their eyes met, Crawford's glowing with lust, and he pulled 
his finger free, trailing it over Schuldich's jaw and down his 
throat.  
 
"Seducer." 
 
His finger rested there in the dip of his collarbone, and then in 
a blink, he had him. That hand back in his hair, the other tucked 
down in his sagging jeans to curve around one tantalizing cheek, 
Crawford claimed Schuldich with a searing, ravaging kiss.  

***

::I seem to remember calling you that at least once.  Say, 
Chicago, five years ago?:: 

Thought, rather than said for the pure pleasure of meeting the 
achy, bruising kiss Brad gave him.  He seized the open collar of 
his lover's shirt and tugged him ever, ever closer, somewhere 
into the swirling refracted heat of his ministrations.  Nipping 
none too gentle on the lips below his own, he added, ::I saw 
that.:: 

It was enough of an excuse to give Bradley a shove in the ribs 
which keep the toothsome assault from his mouth. 

::I saw everything. I know what you want.:: 

A step away from the balcony and they were both alone in the 
foamy night air.  Another, and their hips brushed as they had 
just moments before. 

::You're losing it, Crawford.:: 

Speaking of things lost, the lace of the poet's shirt found 
itself twined around the banister, one tip resting carelessly on 
the edge of the teacup. As for the shirt itself, that had the 
misfortune to tumble to the juniper bellow. 

"Forget it. I want you. Screw the bed." 

***

Ah, power struggles. There was nothing Crawford liked more, and 
he liked the ones he had with his lover the best.  Usually he'd 
hold out, be stubborn until he'd win. But this time, he didn't 
feel like digging in his heels--unless it was for leverage, 
of course.  
 
All the better to thrust with, my dear. 
 
Bare chest to sleek bare chest, Brad gingerly laved his savaged 
lip with the tip of his tongue.  
 
/I love it when you play rough./ 
 
He hooked both hands around the waistband of his jeans, pushing 
them  completely clear of his hips.  
 
/Yes, Schuldich. I'm losing it. And it's all your fault.../ 
 
Palming his ass and rocking against him, Crawford gasped from 
the maddening pressure on his aching groin.  
 
/...Demon.../ 
 
"Forget the bed, and screw me instead." 

***

Schuldich curled one 8some leg around his lover's and let Brad 
pretend he chose the rest, made himself moan to feel the weight 
of his cock cradled on Schuldich's warm, bare thigh.  He could 
wait a moment more, and he could enjoy what grace he had to weave 
it like a spider's web of stars.  After all, Bradley's libido 
always had a curious bubbling effect on his nerves, like soft 
needles in his veins, if he let it in far enough: something he 
seldom managed to resist if resisting was not part of the game.

He spoke at last between quick, cruel kisses.  "It's funny... 
we're both so dominant... that every time... we try to do this... 
we play to each other so much... we both end up begging to be 
submissive... but you know what...?"

No answer, just those two crystal bits of blue set on him like 
shards of an ancient dream, some myth of the Roman bards.  If the 
Romans had demons or not, he smiled like one, not caring one way 
or the other.

"...no deal, Crawford."

He unhooked something from the twirls of the railing with that, 
something that clanked and pinged, and shortly snapped across his 
lover's wrists.  Oh, not just handcuffs.  Padlocked manacles 
which rolled to their edges in such a way that none of the pretty 
white skin beneath them met sharp edges.   

And then he went to one of the hooks beside the balcony doors 
that were otherwise intended to be used for the All Saint's Day 
decorations, and hung him there, back to the cold stucco wall, 
his arms looped above his head like a wreath of pearly satin.  

/And you actually followed me out here suspecting this was 
coming./

"Don't look so surprised."

***

"But isn't that part of the game?"  

Smirking, Brad tilted his head back against the rough, chilly 
wall, and  regarded his lover. /And you know that on occasion, 
I don't see the whole truth. Just flashes of it./ 
 
And with that, he threw up his shields, effectively blocking his 
lover out of his mind. And he smiled, briefly and evilly.  The 
chain grated against the hook as Crawford tried and failed to 
wriggle it over the hook. 
 
"Let me go, Schuldich. Now."  


*** 
 
Schuldich pouted to find himself so very suddenly shut out of his 
lover's consciousness. But that pout proved about as long lived 
as Crawford's smile: if it did not perish the very moment it was 
born, it lasted scarcely longer than a heartbeat.  He took a 
moment to crack the bones in his arms, performing as 
provocatively as he could and swishing has hair before smoothing 
it back from his grin.

"Alright.  I'll let you go.  I won't touch you at all." A deep, 
crass little shrug and his eyes felt their way down the bare 
torso of one Bradley Crawford, eventually fingering their way 
onto his crotch.  "I see.  You might have shut me out of your 
head but... oh, I think a friend of yours has betrayed you."

He sidled over to wall where he had hung his lover and took a 
moment to tweak only the very tip of his penis with one hand, 
while rubbing himself thoroughly with the other.  

"What a shame to let such a nice cock go to waste... I don't 
think that's what you want, but, I can't exactly be sure."

He shamed a few agonizingly long moments of pondering, then 
ripped off Brad's trousers and threw them to the same fate as his 
shirt. Only the very tip of his finger he pushed inside his 
lover.

"Let me back in your head or this is all you get."

***

Crawford writhed to escape the minor intrusion. The finger made 
him burn inside, made him desperate, and he involuntarily 
thrust back on it, but found no relief.  
 
Nor did he find any relief when he opened his eyes to look at his  
lover again--his lover who was still stroking his rampant sex, 
with that savage look in his eyes.  
 
Ohhh...that lean, sinuous body!  Crawford's breath hitched in his 
chest, and he knew right then he wouldn't be able to hold out.  
He caught Schuldich's eyes, and thought something, then 
squelched it, and reluctantly lowered his shields.  
 
"They're down," he rasped, lowering his gaze to Schuldich's 
teasing hand, and then raking it slowly over his upper muscular 
body. He arched against him, brushing the tip of his penis across 
his lover's, the chain squeaking as he moved.  
 
"Come inside, Schuldich."  
 
*** 
 
::You don't need to ask twice.:: Not a sound passed his lips, nor  
movement took his body save a quick skittering away into the 
shade which burnished him ethereal for some moments as he 
searched the moonless dark, or it searched him.  Even though he 
made a very corporeal racket dragging the metal gardening stool 
over with his instep.  This he placed before his bound lover, and 
climbed atop it as if it was a pedestal.  

And then he merely stood, watching Bradley gasp.  Listened to him 
plead with nothing but the wrenching desire bleeding from his 
soul.

He did go inside.  Twice.  First he dove into Crawford's 
want and swathed himself all over in it, pushed their psyches 
together.  Fucked with his head, for want of a better term.  
Watching him surrender shred by shred to that... he could have 
just stood there, in the reflections of himself and Crawford, and 
it would have been enough.

But a conquered kingdom was nothing to him unless he claimed and 
ravaged it in both spirit and body.

His hands crept down to his lover's thighs and drew them to his 
sides.  His lover swung close enough that their cocks pressed 
close for one more moment before he lifted Bradley's ass away 
from the wall and buried himself in it with one long, careless 
shove.  

But between his body and his mind, it was Schuldich who began to 
moan and had to lean against his companion or lose himself 
completely.    
 
"Got-cha."

***

A person with a lesser will would have been destroyed by such an  
assault, but for Crawford, it was a positively erotic experience.  

His vision had dimmed, and he forgot how to speak, but it didn't  
matter.  He had abandoned himself fully to his lover, had laid 
every corner of his mind open to him for the ultimate lay.  And 
no one did it better than Schuldich.    
 
He had been filled thoroughly by him, inside and out, and oh, the  
pain was exquisite.  Crawford let his head rest against the  
cream-colored stone and moaned, his hands lying at ineffective
angles in the wide cuffs around his wrists.    

/Yes, you've got me...You always have had me.  Mein teufel.../

He wriggled a little, thrusting his ass back in encouragement.  
He felt the warm trickle of what he guessed to be blood, but he 
didn't care about it, just the pleasure/pain.  

"Fuck me, Schuldich," he begged, wriggling again.  "Touch me."

(ooc:  I couldn't resist having him speak a little German to  
Schuldich.  According to an online G-E/E-G dictionary I found-
teufel means demon or devil.)

***
 
Schuldich barely bothered to open his eyes in answer.  Rather, 
he jerked himself into his lover as hard as he could.  Not too 
much more and eased his thrust only enough to give himself some 
time, set his grinning lips to Bradley's neck.  He bit him on the 
most tender stretches of his skin, then washed them with the 
rough heat of his tongue as he hitched their hips closer and 
closer together.

On Crawford's thighs he traced out arcane signs of possession.  
Or meaninglessness.  Something like that and softer than cursive 
to his palms.

He could feel himself in Crawford, and the ghosts of his presence 
in the other body playing out in his own. Fading in and out of 
one another; better than screwing himself, he'd always thought.

And then he felt Bradley rip inside.

A twist of his presence in Crawford's minds and both their eyes 
were open, gazing listlessly at one another's forms as they shook 
against each other.  He dropped one thigh and ran his hand over 
the tight, wet spot where they joined, pulling away after a few 
empty sighs on behalf of his lover.  His fingers came back 
shining with a dark, thin wetness.

"Oh Bradley, you're bleeding."

So he smeared the blood on his own lips and kissed him with his 
own pains.

***

Crawford lapped eagerly at Schuldich's sanguine mouth, tasting 
salt and metal.  He licked him clean of his own fluids and 
plunged his tongue into his mouth, desperate to snatch a 
taste of his lover before Schuldich pulled back.  

And he did, cruelly, only to thrust hard into him again, the 
passage much easier now, and paved with blood and semen.  
Groaning, Crawford met his savage attack with a hard thrust back, 
forcing him in a little further.  

/Make me bleed.  Make me scream.  Make me remember.../

"Vampyr."

/I know you crave it.  But I know there are more reasons than 
just that one why you keep coming back./

/You're mine, Schuldich./

"Mine," he echoed fervently with hard-bitten, bloodstained lips.  
His eyes drifted shut, and he arched, rubbing the tip of his 
throbbing, rosy sex on Schuldich's stomach until his arms 
couldn't take the strain anymore.

***

Schuldich never heard that final 'mine'.  He couldn't hear 
anything in the place he had plunged into.  Hearing wasn't the 
word.  No, this was the hollow of the deepest, darkest candy, the 
bloody anise on lips and body as he started to lose it.

/You're mine, Schuldich./

Not as words, not as taste, not as any human concept.  Rather the 
rending, splitting, crawling image of concept.  Everything and 
nothing.  Everything they had ever known together crushed into 
one heartbeat. 

::And you love it don't you? All of THIS!::

In one instant he dropped Crawford's legs and swallowed his 
tongue, his arms half-woven by then with those that were chained.  
That he was still shoving into him hardly seemed to matter.  The 
chain started to clank loudly and he gave it no heed. His heart 
throbbed, as much as he hated to admit it.

With one final upwards crush, he climaxed and had to seize his 
lover to keep from falling over.

"I think I need another cigarette."

***

Crawford sagged in his bonds as much as the chain would 
allow, panting and drained and blissed out from having his mind 
violated by his Schuldich.  And damn if he didn't love it.  

He thought that very thing back at his sleekly glowing lover, as 
he watched him extract another clove stick from his silver case 
and light it.  For one brief second, he could smell the spicy-
sweetness of the cigarette over the violets; then the breeze 
plucked the scent and carried it away.

But it was the only thing that was.  

Crawford tugged on the chain, making it rattle angrily as he 
unsuccessfully tried to remove it from the hook.

"I gave you what you wanted, Schuldich."

/Now give me what I want./  

***

"My, aren't we spoiled?" Schuldich yawned melodramatically, 
taking another liberally long drag from his cigarette, followed 
by his lover's thoughts.

::You're gonna make me hard again if you keep dwelling on it like 
that.  Oh well, I'll just have to do you again, I suppose.  And 
chances are, you won't get off then either, so I'll have another 
cigarette, and you'll dwell and... well, you get the idea.  This 
could go on ALL NIGHT.::

If the flash of complete and utter mortification he caught had 
been a candy, he would have saved it for later just to think the 
taste.  

"But then again..." they both jumped a bit at his sudden switch 
to language, which he inflected, just to be annoying, with a 
thick, impenetrable Gaelic lilt.  He took another puff and held 
it, slinking back to his bound lover and offering him a little 
flash of his own fancy- that one saucy image over tea.

But he gave in and he kneeled, clasping his hands together in a 
blasphemous little joke between them as he blew the smoke over 
the weeping member before him.  

::I'm not as ungrateful as you'd think.::  

So he too a few moments to lick the blood from the battered 
thighs before him, tracing ever nearer, summoning even more moans 
before he finally swallowed Bradley whole. 

***

Crawford stretched sensuously (as best as he could) at the feel 
of his lover's mouth on him.  
 
/Oh...Yes! You are sinfully good at this.  But then you know that, 
I'm sure./ 
 
Crawford permitted himself a thrust or two into that delectable  
mouth, moaning with abandon as Schuldich's tongue caressed him.  
 
"I..." /Ah...I'm about to.../ 
 
/You're so talented in so many ways.  Will you swallow like a 
wicked little demon?/ 
 
He bucked his hips, plunging forward wildly, the chain grinding  
against the hook as he soared upwards into the first ring of his  
orgasm.  
 
*** 

Schuldich held the Bradley's penis and its juices between his 
lips for many moments after he had finished, thoughtfully 
kneading it with his lips.  At last, he sat back on his heels, 
and made a big production of swallowing as noisily as he could, 
though a trickle of gleaming white still traced his smirk.

"Ah, but wouldn't it have been more wicked if I'd spit your own 
cum back into your mouth?"

No waiting for a reply.  He climbed off the stool and pushed it 
into a corner, sitting down cross-legged on the floor of the 
balcony where he took a moment to enjoy the view- the gardens and 
his chained lover.  

Crawford gleamed with his own sweat.  Now and then as he shifted 
in his bonds blood would dribble from his torn skin, down his 
legs, lacing all the way to his ankles.  His hair clung to his 
cheeks and it was more than the shadow which turned the skin 
there darker than it had been.

"You know, you look pretty nice there.  If All Saint's Day wasn't 
so far off, I'd consider leaving you.  But you might wilt.  Oh 
well, we'll just have to do this again closer to the holidays."

A fine, heady rush of ire to finish off the evening answered him.

::I *KNOW* I'm gonna pay for this later.  I'm just livin' it up 
now.  How's THAT for precognition?:: 

***

/Not bad./  

Crawford looked him up and down, marveling over the tantalizing 
sight Schuldich made in the moonlight.  

"Take me down, now, Demon.  I want a smoke and shower and bed--
with you in it, of course."  

***

"What, no fourth wish? I thought you overdo everything?" 
Schuldich dryly remarked as he leaned back as lewdly as he could, 
taking forever to sample the evening vapors, then get to his feet 
where he stretched once again.  "I was thinking of making you ask 
nicely..." He, at this, bent down at such an angle that a normal 
man would have gone screaming mad to see him there, unguarded but 
unreachable.  Crawford just fumed.  "...but then you'd be out 
here until Christmas." 

The key he retrieved from a small crack in the corner of the 
balcony, and rather than unhooking his lover first, he undid the 
padlocks at once, causing Bradley to fall to the ground with a 
clank and a thump.

He, himself, yawned conspicuously.  "Well, I'm beat."

They exchanged raised eyebrows, grumbles and inappropriate 
flashes of tongue as they stepped back inside, still quite naked.

And only to find Saffie standing in the middle of the rug in a 
halo of light from the halfway burned out chandelier.  She was 
holding Crawford's pants.  Upon seeing them, she performed a 
stage swoon.  "Oh, forshame!" But she laughed, and she ran, still 
clasping her prize.  When her dog didn't follow, she called him.  
"Farfie! C'mere boy!"

Whereupon Farfarello rose from his rest, bounded over to her 
door, walked around in circles exactly five times, and curled up 
outside the painted panels.  

***

"Dear sweet..."  Crawford grumbled as he coolly walked over the 
armchair where his ripped, earth-and-leaf-stained garments lay 
draped.  "Just what I wanted:  for my privates to be on display 
to a child."

/And stop that infernal laughing, Schuldich./

He held up his trousers to the dim light, contemplating donning 
them again, then, shrugging, slung them and his shirt over his 
shoulder.  Why bother now?

"At least she got Farfarello out of the living room," he added, 
shooting an exasperated look at the wheelchair from whence their 
knife-licking madman had sprung. "But still..."    

"And speaking of incorrigible children, where do you suppose Nagi 
is?"  Crawford looked over at his lover.  "I had no precognition 
regarding his latest little tantrum, so I dare not even guess.  
Can you...taste anything?"  

***  

Schuldich, back to his usual intractable self, did not oblige 
until his latest spat of physical giggles had subsided. Once more 
in control of his voice, he traversed the small hallway at the 
end of which stood his sister's door, leaned with the utmost care 
over Farfarello, (who growled) and rapped upon it just above the 
knob.  "Saffie, be a dear and apologize to Bradley."  

The answer happened to be preceded by the clank of a bottle or 
two hitting the mirrored surface of Savil's dresser, as she had, 
while listening to her brother's vain attempts to regain himself, 
sat down and begun to prepare herself for bed.  "But YOU'RE the 
one's running around in the nude! If anything, you should 
apologize to me!"

A pause as Schuldich contemplated a proper verbal rebuttal while 
still mentally aware she expected none, no apology and no 
guarantee this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. 

Still, and unasked for reply sailed from her quarters.  "Nagi has 
gone clubbing, by the way.  Isn't he just too Japanese?"

***

Crawford, who had been making his way to the bathroom (passing 
Schuldich with a grope of his bare ass and a lewd thought), 
paused on the threshold of said chamber to cast a decidedly 
cold look in the direction of Savil's room. 

"Clubbing?"

The ruined clothes on his shoulder landed in a haphazard pile 
on the black tile floor and Crawford retraced his steps. 
Threatened the growling Farfarello with a kick as he 
approached Savil's door. 

"How long ago did you see him, Savil?"

***

"Mmm?" The little girl began, deliberately taking too long to 
muse over everything.  "About the time you first... Farfie! 
Down boy! Bad dog! ...went out on the deck I suppose."

/Don't you two take forever! No wonder you're all exhausted 
and grouchy./

Farfarello whimpered in a decidedly canine fashion and rather 
scratched at the door before rolling over and falling back 
to sleep.  

"An hour maybe? Don't worry.  If he started breaking 
things with his mind, I'm sure they'll call us."

Just then, from the master bedroom.  "Oh Braaaad! I'm all 
alone in the tub with my rubber duckie and two lit cigarettes!"

As the somewhat irate remarks from behind her door began to 
fade, Saffie called brightly.  "G'night, Bradley!" It was too 
late to leave any accent in her words.  She sounded herself, 
and that was it.

***

Yes, Nagi had gone clubbing, but clubbing wasn't what he was in 
the process of doing.  In fact, he was currently lying naked 
on a narrow, twin bed, and the gorgeous Olivier was stretched 
out on top of him, equally naked with his mouth attached to one 
nipple.  The air was filled with greedy slurps and Nagi's soft 
moans.  The bed creaking beneath them.  

"Tu es tres beau, Nagi.  Mon cher."  

More soft kisses fluttered across his slender chest. 

"Don't...tease me."

Olivier chuckled, and nipped at his chest, leaving a telltale 
bruise on the flat pad of skin above the aureole.  "But you 
have done nothing but tease me all these months."  He laved 
the spot with a broad swipe of his tongue.  "It is only fair."

"Not fair."  This said with an arch of his back and a gentle 
thrust of his hips, nudging their erections together.  It was 
Olivier's turn to moan then.

"That wasn't fair either."

Nagi only smirked, and wrapped one leg around Olivier's waist.  
"Too bad."

"You aren't as innocent as you look."

The smirk faded at that, and an odd gleam sparked in the Japanese 
boy's eyes--odd enough to make Olivier wonder over the change.  

"No, I'm not," he agreed softly.  

Nagi raised his other leg and hitched it around his waist, 
crossing his ankles.  Rolled his hips forward to force Olivier's 
mind back onto the business at hand.  He arched against him again 
in silent urging.  

"Fuck me..."

He bucked upward again, and again, and again until Olivier, half-
driven mad with lust, complied.  And then, Nagi let loose tears 
and whimpering and pitiful moans as he was roughly impaled, over 
and over, his hands pinned above his head.  

***

Niigata, twelve years ago, January.

Ken fell on his way home from school.  This wasn't particularly 
unusual for a scrawny eight year old carrying a backpack full of 
grammar books and kanji boards, but he picked himself up out of 
the salty slush of the sidewalk without crying or uttering so 
much as a childish curse. 

It had frosted over night and the sky at present vanished beneath 
a grey cloak- smooth as colorless honey, heavy with the scent of 
drifting ice.  Would it snow? He hoped so in his little ways 
without much care for the drowsy traffic cops or his mother's 
sleeping garden.  Oh, everything was sleepy this time of year. 
Except for him.  He just wanted to play with his friends, 
preferably have snowball fights with them.  The mere thought of 
it made him all restless and giggly inside.  

That and he was far too old to cry, only shiver a little when he 
saw the trickle of blood running down his palm.

"Ewe!" Naturally, the wound went straight in his mouth.  One 
handed, he popped the gate to his yard and started hopping across 
the stepping stones as if they lead the way across a pirate-laden 
sea.  

Then from the other side of the wall, "Oi! KenKen!"

"Konnichi wa! Genki desu ka? KenKen ureshii ya!" He skipped 
rather to the fence, placing his feet carefully between the two 
young and now probably dead magnolias.  

Kaze the neighbor's boy stood watching him.  He could hear him 
kicking the bricks on his side, and though not allowed such fun 
himself, he smiled up at him.  After all, not many eleven year 
olds bothered with third graders such as himself.  How thrilling 
this one was his friend. 

"Hai, genki-genki." The elder boy sighed, taking a moment to 
swing himself partially over the wall.  "Whatcha do to your 
hand?"

He giggled a little as Kaze's scarf tickled his wrist.  "I fell.  
I'm Ok though!"

"Really? Itai! What a tough boy you are... what about your lip?"

Ken's tongue flickered down and came across a thin graze of 
leftover metallic crimson.  "That's just from my cut."

"Ah, so da." His companion met his gaze with a droll little smile 
and reached down, ran his fingers over Ken's lips. "They're 
blue."

"I'm coooooooold."

They both laughed for awhile at how obvious everything was,.  "Me 
too.  Hey, you got homework?"

"A little." And copy work for his language class too!

"Err! You can do it later.  Your mom's not home.  Why don't you 
come over to my house for a little?"

Not only a friend's house, but on a weekday! And for no good 
reason! Ken couldn't believe his luck.  He left his things in the 
heap of shoes in his own entryway, grabbed his good house 
slippers, and dashed over to the neighbors, almost forgetting to 
lock the front gate again.  

The Koichirous' house was basically the same as his own, except 
for the glittering fact he didn't live there.  The shoes all 
seemed much cleaner, the kitchen smelled of cinnamon and garlic. 
And it was so bright! They had no curtains over their back 
sliding door.  Between that and the white, ruffled table cloth, 
which wouldn't have lasted a day at his house, it looked as if it 
had snowed there already.  

Kaze stood at the cupboards, leaning out of his own green 
slippers after something on one of the shelves.  "I'm gonna make 
us some cocoa.  You can leave your coat on a chair."

Ken did so, and at once did the only respectable thing for an 
eight year old finding himself near such a large, unspoiled pane 
of chilly glass.  He breathed on it and rubbed out some 
nonsensical messages to the imaginary space aliens.   

"Aw darn! The teakettle'll take forever to heat up! It's gonna be 
awhile."  The elder boy breathed hard into his hands and rubbed 
them nosily, watching the silhouette of the other child sway back 
and forth over his work.  "Let's sit down so we don't freeze our 
fingers off."

Ken shrugged and flopped down at one of the seats, yanking that 
filmy white coverlet he so envied over his lap.  

His companion shook his head.  "No silly! If no one's home, you 
don't do it like that! C'mere!" And hand on his own, pulling him 
underneath the table skirt to a tiny bubble world of toasty 
colorless steam wrapped around a gleaming space heater.  The two 
of them were still just small enough to sit in their tiny house 
without bumping their heads.  Wow! No grownup could do that.

"It's like a warm igloo," the little boy remarked. 

"Yeah, I hide down here a lot on days like this."

"You sound old."

"Do I now?  Maybe I am."

Ken stuck out his tongue and lunged for the best spot over the 
heater to warm his little finger tips.  He wiggled his hands 
around as if washing them almost, but no matter how many dollops 
of imaginary soap he rinsed away, they always got cold again 
when he started to pull away.

Kaze didn't seem to mind.  "Don't have an mittens, huh?"

"I don't like gloves, they make my hands feel funny."  

The elder boy sighed and shook his head and propped one of his 
arms on his leg.  "I know something we can do that'll warm our 
hands up real fast."

"Sit on 'em? I don't like that either!"

"Even better."

He found this awfully hard to believe and made his dubious 
feelings quite known on his face.  

"In fact it'll make you feel better all over, if you let me do it 
to you."

What a dumb thing to say! He made it sound as if he'd have to 
learn to do something... they were just hands, not division 
problems.  But he'd show Kaze! He wasn't a silly little boy who'd 
turn down dares, probably what this was.  "Ok.  What?"

"Gimme your hand."

A moment of hesitation where he considered providing his right, 
but since that one happened to be hurt, he gave his left instead, 
still scowling playfully.  He held it out as if offering 
something on his own part.  

Something Kaze took too, along with his wrist as he tugged him 
over by it so they were sitting a somewhat closer than before.  
Close enough to smell the warm wool of each other's sweaters.  He 
squeezed Ken's hand and rather gingerly cupped it over his own 
crotch, holding his own palm over it-, not so tightly as to 
prevent escape, but tight enough to make him feel everything 
beneath the uniform he still wore.  

Ken's big blue eyes grew even bigger.  

"Go on, rub me a little.  It feels really nice.  I'll do it to 
you next, OK?"

Juvenile skepticism still in place, Ken did.  Somewhat.  More 
trying to reason out just why his friend was acting so odd, and 
how such an unimportant, if not utterly shameful place, could not 
be so to someone else.  Ken still found himself the center of his 
little world, though this stood as his last day as ruler of all 
things he experienced.  The only thing running through his mind 
as he ran his fingers up and down between Kaze's legs was that... 
this all had to be one of those grownup things! The one's they 
never told you about that were always so neat, or the ones you 
weren't allowed to have, even though they did no visible damage.  
And here he was, lucky enough to have a big kid who knew all 
about it.

But then Kaze started to make a really funny face, and he 
wrenched his hands away, giggling.  "I didn't mean to hurt you!" 

"You didn't." Gasped Kaze, rubbing the the end of his nose.

"But I made you get... umm... all... err..."

"Hard?"

Nodding.  "Yeah, doesn't that HURT?"

"At first, but you gotta keep at it."

For this, Ken had nothing especial to say which wasn't 
particularly ignorant, and so he said nothing at all.

"Yeah REALLY!...you don't believe me, huh?"

"Nope." 

"Fine then," Kaze sighed and rocked back onto his knees.  "I'll 
show you."  And one of his hands reached for Ken, brushing over 
his thighs.

He didn't know just why, but his cheeks suddenly burned and his 
knees clapped shut of their own accord.  If this didn't get him a 
laugh, nothing would. But his friend didn't laugh one bit.  He 
just said, very softly... and close too.  They were almost nose 
to nose.  (His cheeks felt even hotter.)  "You shy?"

No answer at first.  He just glanced away, hoping he didn't start 
to fidget like he usually did when he was uncomfortable, but 
nodded a little. 

"Why?"

"I dunno..."

"You don't do this to yourself?"

"Umm..." Just when he figured he couldn't blush any harder, a 
reassuring arm draped over his shoulders... and he twitched a 
little under it, finally looking up to meet the weirdly kind gaze 
of his companion.  "N-no..."

"Then I'll do it for you KenKen.  Won't that be nice? I mean, 
c'mon? Aren't we friends?  It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone." 
Not waiting for an answer, he felt Kaze's hands go for the snap 
of his fly and though it made him jerk a little at the sudden 
contact, he didn't exactly start pulling away.  Instead, he bit 
his lips inside and turned to look down at what the elder boy was 
doing, which proved to be more or less very slowly revealing his 
Doremon underpants. 

And then making his skin tingle all over as he reached inside and 
started to fumble with him. His own stiffness bloomed then, 
sudden and sharp. 

"Kaze..." his voice seemed weak, and so did his legs.

"KenKen?"

"You were right..." And he laughed then, loudly, bucking against 
the intrusive fingers with abandon.

/I can't even look back and say I regret that day, dreaming under 
the table with you.../

"Hey, I'm just glad you're enjoying yourself.  You had me worried 
for a minute there."

"How come and why... why..." Why is my mouth so wet all of a 
sudden? Why is my tummy all butterflies? Why did it feel like he 
might scream? As it was, he moaned and started to shiver a 
little.  And that only made him moan more.

"You like it?"

"Umhm!"

"You really like it?"

"I..."

/And I can't make myself be unhappy with him./

"Now it feels funny again... feels tight..."

The fingers against him came up and clasped him, giving him a 
good yank that made him cry out.

/But then I can't make myself be happy with you./

"Hush up, KenKen.  Shh..." Spoken with no ridicule or anger, only 
a bit of a purr, as Kaze leaned forward, and brushed his lips to 
the little neighbor boy's.

Ken's eyes flew open and a million questions poured from his 
mouth.  Before he found his companion's tongue in it.  Not one 
got him an answer.  Not one.

"I love you, KenKen."

As if the magic word had been uttered, somewhere between shock 
and pleasure, he of the two neighbor boys who had gone so smitten 
with each other, the one that was destined to someday kill the 
other, rocked into his first climax and started to cry.

After all, no one had ever said that to him before in his life. 
He never really expected anyone else would. 

His porter cleared her throat rather loudly and tapped him on the 
shoulder, seeming to wipe his thoughts clear now, send him back 
to himself. On Terra. Standing on the walkway around the glass 
ceiling, under the moons he had been whispering too.

"Sorry..." He said.  She shrugged, and gave the cart with the 
trunk of his old clothes on another tug as they resumed their 
journey to the hotel.  He tipped her at the door and took his 
things up himself.  

Ran's voice met him before he even laid a finger on the doorknob.  
"So now he's his own master.  Just where is this villa anyway?"

Fiona cocked an eyebrow at him once he'd fought his way in past 
the unhappy lock, but he didn't notice.  "I'm... back."



*** 

"Uh...Yeah. Welcome back..." 
 
Ran promptly swung his legs off the chair's arm, and straightened 
up in his seat, sitting as stiffly as if he were in the presence 
of someone to whom he wished to make a good impression. Which he 
was, and he felt his insides twist and writhe accordingly.  Ken's 
glowing smile only made his nervousness worse.  
 
"I ran into Fiona," Ran said.  "She showed me to the room.  
Obviously..." 
 
His eyes lit upon the folder under his arm then, and he nodded  
towards it. "I...I take it everything went well?" 
 

*** 

It was brightly he answered, in spite of himself. "Everything 
went awful but the good news is I'm done.  I hate paperwork."

"And let me guess, Ysanne didn't shut up?" Fiona added, asked or 
not.

"Ah..." /Wait a second! That's... that's that awful woman's kept 
girl! I missed something here.../ "Somethin' like that." He waved 
his hand dismissively, stepping over to a glass and steel end 
table in the corner of the room to drop off his papers before 
wheeling his trunk inside.  "Thank you, Fiona for showing Ran 
around."

"No trouble."  She sounded honest and yet somehow sarcastic at 
the same time.  With a long stretch which she performed as if 
unused to any sort of space to enjoy such movement, Fiona rose 
from her chair.  "Guess I better be off."

"Umm... you can stay in our herald quarters if you want." Someone 
else's kept girl or other strange thing unnamed, he did NOT have 
the heart to send her back to her mage.

Not that she seemed more than cursorally pleased. "Wow, thanks.  
Well... ja for now and all."  This yawned, she seized her shoes 
and hobbled to an inconspicuous door on the other side of the 
room which she vanished behind without waiting for a reply.

"Oyasumi." Ken said anyway.  Sighing, he took rather to popping 
the catches to his old steamer trunk of oily black leather and 
brass rivets.  The one thing in it he truly wanted he'd already 
laid on top above the ocean of wrinkled dry cleaner's bags.

He stood up then, and still glancing shyly away, asked in a voice 
so low the fireplace almost swallowed it.  "Umm... am I still 
allowed to brush your hair?"

***  

"Yeah," Ran whispered, forcing himself to look away from Ken. 
He'd had to do it, so compelling was he. So dazzling to 
his eyes.  
 
He shifted in his seat, casting about for the best way to 
position himself so that Ken could easily get at him without 
having to touch him very much. If he didn't want to.  
 
At last, Ran slunk out of his chair and settled himself on the 
floor next to it, facing the fireplace. Still as nervous as 
before.  
 
"Okay." 
 
*** 
 
With a warm smile fading in across his lips, he crept over to the 
chair intended to be his, and sat down slowly, as if Ran was a 
cat he was trying not to frighten. All the more reason to be 
gentle.  

At first he ran just the very tips of his fingers through the 
scarlet hanks of his lover's hair, smoothing the worst of the 
strays, even though his right hand did creep down a bit, and 
caress Ran's temple as he curled his eartail back.

He finally reached for his silver-handled brush, one with 
bristles so fine and soft they felt as if they would do little 
good.  But they wouldn't scratch either. 

His first stroke with them ran down along one of the tails as he 
held it in his palm, watching it shimmer with an carnelian luster 
in the light of the fire. He snagged, but the next movement he 
made so slowly, he could hardly even hear the faint scrape of the 
bristles.  This he held for awhile, banishing the few little 
knots with the utmost care, gradually moving the brush closer to 
himself, onto the shorter silk that danced across the back of 
Ran's neck.
 
*** 
 
Ran, meanwhile, was on the verge of purring like the cat he more 
or less was. Little by little his muscles began to loosen from 
the knots his worrying had tied them in, and he drifted a little 
with every sweep of the brush. Drifted so much it was all he 
could do to hold himself away from Ken. It was hard not to lose 
himself in his companion's ministrations and collapse in the well 
between his legs.  
 
"It feels good, Ken, having you do this. No one's ever..." 
 
The rhythm of the brush faltered then, just a little, and Ran 
broke off then, regretting that he'd even spoken in the first 
place, and hoping desperately that Ken wouldn't abandon him.  
 
*** 
 
Ken only hung back for a moment before his hands fell back to 
work, just as sweetly as before, and he ran his empty fingers 
over Ran's cheek and down onto his neck in apology.

"I'm glad," he choked out at last.  And then in a much more 
relaxed voice.  "I can do this for hours. I was hopin' you 
wouldn't mind.  You can tell me to stop if ya want, but..."

He leaned up from his seat, curled over, and kissed Ran on the 
forehead.

"I wanted to do this for along time and I..." Another upside down 
kiss, this one much longer, and he asked once he had finished,  
"You're forehead's really hot.  Are you feeling alright?"

***

Ran leaned back then, carefully, so as not to startle Ken, still  
striving to keep his hands away from him. And then he felt like 
an utter fool when Ken kissed and departed a second time.  
 
"It's nothing, really.  It'll go away.  I'll live."  
 
*** 
 
"O-Okay.  If you're sure..." Ken leaned back in his chair, not so 
far as to disturb Ran, or cause him to feel unwanted.  Just far 
enough to steady his shoulders as he went back to brushing his 
hair, just as delicately as before, though he did let his hands 
steal over his lover's brow. 

/As if he'd get better so fast.../

/If course now but... I dunno, it just makes me wanna kick 
myself.  That I didn't stay with you./

"I'm sorry, Ran." This offered with his fingers creeping down 
against his cheek once more.  "I heard some people get sick when 
they first come here but I'd never seen for it myself.  I should 
have said somethin'.  It's the violets..."

And then, with his hands still lost in his beloved's hair.  
"You're not in any pain, are you?"

***

"No, I'm not in pain," Ran murmured "All the times I've worked 
with violets, I never thought the smell of them would make me 
sick.  It's odd."

What with the fever and Ken's hands moving through his hair and 
over his skin, it was getting harder for him to stay alert.  
He tilted his head back a little, luxuriating in Ken's touch, and 
tentatively curled a hand around one of his companion's ankles.

So much for resolve.  

"Gomen, Ken," he whispered.  

***

"Ay-... Ran? S'ok.  Don't worry.  Not about that." Ken breathed.  
The brush wound its way though Ran's hair once more, than clacked 
on the table between the two armchairs as he set it down.

The two violet eyes looked up to him, beseeching wordlessly, he 
tipped his head to one side as he gazed at them.  They hung 
together, just like that, for a long while.  The fire popped, 
something fell over in Fiona's room.

His hands finally slide down Ran's back, coaxing him to stand 
with him.  Both to their feet now, another moment of just 
gazing, followed by his palm on his beloved's forearm.  

"Time for bed," he offered.  

They went half tangled together to the other room, the one with 
the satin-drenched clamshell bed that shimmered faintly like 
white wine in the simple light of the two moons that chased their 
ways down through the picture window.  He turned on the single 
cream-crystal lamp and the sheets grew dim as the marble vanities 
that stood staring at each other.  The mirror in the corner, a 
silver thing with doors like a magician's portal, watched him as 
he sat Ran on the bed and rooted something out of one of the 
drawers.

It was pair of red silk shortie pajamas he offered to his lover.  
"I'll be right back, okay?" And he slipped into the bathroom 
where the sink started to run.

***

Ran turned the pajamas over and over in his hands, stroking them 
while he listened to the water flow and splash and drain in the 
bathroom beyond.  It seemed a shame to refuse them, to tell Ken 
he never wore pajamas to bed.  Someone had obviously gone to a 
great deal of trouble to get them.  

Around the corner, the water ceased to run, pulling Ran out of 
his fever bright musings.  Casting the pajamas onto the bed, Ran 
began to remove his own clothes, folding them haphazardly and l
aying them on a nearby chair.  Hurriedly, he clad himself in 
the pajamas.  

It was chilly in the room.  Ran wished for a fire as he flipped 
back the blankets and sheets and crawled under them, trying not 
to watch the door as he awaited Ken's return.

***

"Damn Terran water systems! The water's always hot, the hotel 
rooms are freezing!"  Ken whispered to himself as he batted his 
hands through the water, waiting for what seemed like forever for 
it to cool off.  Naturally, it went frigid all of a sudden and he 
was obliged to pull his hand back.  

Eventually, he managed to set it to cool and finish gathering up 
what he needed.

Rather haphazardly, he hung his jacket over one of the brass 
hooks for the towels and so went back into the bedroom.

Ran lay curled up under the sheets- a streak of careless crimson 
against the golden beige.  A bit of snow and two glassy purple 
eyes. 

"Aw," Ken said.  "I wanted to tuck you in." And then he finally 
realized if he didn't set his burden down, he was going to put it 
down inadvertently.  A porcelain basin of water, two plush, milky 
soft washclothes, a saucer of pills and a little, full clear 
glass mug all rattled their way to the nightstand.

"I brought you some aspirin for your fever if you want it and 
some sleeping pills.  I can't sleep in hotels, I don't know.  I 
didn't know if you felt that way too."  

That pointed out, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, bare 
inches from his lover, and soaked one of the washcloths, only to 
grumble at himself for overdoing it.  He then rang it out, shook 
it out, and started tracing it over Ran's warm brow.  

***

"Tuck me in, indeed," Ran groused, blushing slightly and giving 
him a look meant to be forbidding, but one which only came across 
as sleepy.  

He couldn't help but tremble a little at the feel of the cold 
cloth when it touched his forehead, but the quivering passed over 
as quickly as it had begun.  The chagrin--and the guilty 
pleasure--he felt over being cared for so would linger for much 
longer.  

He wanted to give in and lose consciousness in sleep, but he just 
couldn't, not yet--not while Ken was so close to him.  Not while 
there was one thing he just had to know.    

His one exposed hand crept across the satin snowdrift to weakly 
catch at the hem of his tunic.  

"Will you stay with me?" he croaked, puzzling over why his tongue 
suddenly felt like it was made of rubber.

***

He took forever to ring out the washcloth again, and did so with 
his eyes alighted on Ran's, his lips set firm and rather stiffly, 
in spite of the fact he knew inside... how deep and empty he must 
have looked right then.  His head fell to one of his shoulders, 
and he reached over, this time mopping at his beloved's cheeks.  
A few stray beads of water caught along his nose and ran down 
across his lips like tears.  

"Yeah... I will."  And he pushed himself free, taking  moment to 
soak the previously unused towel and drape it over the feverish 
brow.  He stood.  And smiled.  Maybe shook his head just a little 
bit.  It was hard to tell in the dim light.  "Just let me put my 
PJ's on."

Back to the closet where he caught something filmy and blueberry 
colored before heading back to the bathroom.

*** 

Ran lay as Ken had left him:  As limp as a doll amid the cream 
satin sea, and smiling slightly, for he felt as if he'd made a 
tiny bit of headway.  

He knew he'd left him, and that he was just behind the next door, 
but that didn't stop him from going ahead and talking; it seemed 
the sharp rise in temperature he was currently experiencing had 
loosened his tongue considerably, and along with it, lowered his 
defenses.  

"I know you loved someone else.  I can accept it.  I mean, 
you're a grown man.  You would have a romantic past.  But 
can't you love me, too?  Can't you try...?"

"Because I...I love you, Ken.  I know I told you that before, 
but I don't think you believe me.  And I know it sounds stupid, 
and implausible perhaps, since I've been so tied up with Takatori 
and Aya..."

He frowned, and swiped at his damp bangs, knocking the cloth on 
his forehead slightly askew.

"But that's all my life has ever been...honor and duty.  Always 
what needed to be done, what should be done..."

Ran licked his lips like a child, blinking blearily at the 
ceiling.  

"I would wait, Ken, for you."  

***
  
When Ken first heard the little, drowsy voice on the other side 
of the door, his first reaction, which came, unfortunately, as he 
was trying to down a pair of indigo sleeping pills, happened to 
be, /Oh no! He's delirious./  

After all, Aya would never be so forward.  So sweetly 
patronizing.  So fucking honest.

The mug in his hand started to quiver and lost some of its 
contents.

Whether because he didn't feel he had the right to see him so, or 
because he no longer had the strength to support the walking haze 
of tenuous and wild emotions he had become, he sank down to the 
ground with his back to the door, one of his hands combing though 
his hair and cradling his brow.

Somehow, it was just easier to talk now.  Somewhere between the 
door, the pills.  Terra.  He blamed them all.

"I never doubted you, Ran.  Not about this.  I didn't mean to 
make you... I didn't mean to get so cold on you."

/I couldn't help it. I don't want to leave you.  I don't want to 
hurt you I. I don't want to be alone anymore./  

"Goddamn, I don't know what's wrong with me.  And I didn't want 
you to have to deal with that. I really did want to help you.  I 
mean, screw what happened to me.  That was my fault. didn't ask 
for anything like your life.  I did. I remember... doing it too."

***

/A voice...Ken's voice.../

Ran dragged his eyelids open and looked over at the bare space 
beside him, then at the closed bathroom door.  

/Still in there?/  

He lay there quietly after ascertaining Ken's whereabouts, but 
found himself no less enlightened than he had been before his 
impromptu speech.  Still...he was lucid enough to realize that 
another tiny bit of progress had been made.  

And lucid enough to get the tiniest bit angry--just enough to 
make him climb out of bed and pad, hugging himself and shivering, 
over to the bathroom door to kneel before it.   

"You can try to help me, but I can't try to help you?  That's not 
the way it works, Ken..." he muttered.  

Ran lay his head against the smooth, white-painted door.  

"Maybe I want to deal with it...If you're going willing to take 
me on with all my hang-ups.  But maybe I'm wrong...What do I know 
about love, anyway?"  

He rocked back on his heels, and stared foggily at the closed 
door, wondering if he could get to his feet and get the door open 
without falling over and making a fool of himself.  

And then his mind latched back onto Ken's last remark. 

"What...do you remember doing, Ken?"

***

"Plenty, Ran.  Hell, you made *me* feel wanted. "

A good natured little laugh and he leaned back, pressing his neck 
to the cold tablet of the door.  Sighing.  Smiling to the boy who 
couldn't see him.

The question still stood.  The one he hadn't answered.  The one 
he had no intention of answering.  Not all of him.  At least.  
The one he knew he'd falter on.  And all this reminded him.

"Y'know, I read somewhere, that if you lose yourself? It doesn't 
go all at once.  It's just little pieces of you, bits of who you 
are.  But sooner or later, there's nothing left."

He hugged his knees close and closed his eyes to blot out the 
vanity lights.

"But what I'm thinking about right now? The day I signed the 
paper saying I was his.  I was fourteen.  Yeah right, like a 
paper was gonna make any difference.  A paper's just one piece."

/And I don't think it mattered one bit.  Not to me./

"Ok, so that's what I was thinking about.  What about you? "

***

His knees lodged a protest by way of aching, and Ran turned 
around and huddled against the door.        
      
"But you haven't lost everything, Ken, or I wouldn't have...I 
wouldn't love you as much as I do.  There wouldn't have been 
anything left for me, or anyone to love."  

"Do you hear me?  I love you, Ken.  You're the first person I've 
ever *really* loved, and...it's hopeless isn't it?"  

His eyes stung at that, and he closed them until the bitter 
emotion passed--one which was quickly replaced by another from 
the simmering cauldron within him.  

"So that's what I'm thinking about Ken.  You."

The room swam before his eyes, and Ran, blinking furiously, sat 
back and watched it waver and spin as his frustration grew.  

"You must think I'm pathetic.  You must, or you wouldn't have 
brought me here.  I wonder now if you even intended to have me 
stay after you 'saved' me.  I know you still love Kaze, and that 
you...You *belong* to him."  He twisted around to stare at the 
door, as if he could compel Ken to open the barrier with the 
intensity of his eyes alone.  "But what does that mean exactly?  
Were you kept like Fiona-chan is?"  

"Were you his slave, Ken?  Come out here and talk to me face to 
face!"  

***  

"I wanted you to be happy for once.  That's all.  I hadn't 
thought that far ahead."

/I hadn't ever expected you to say you'd come with me.  But what 
do I know?/

A pause, another sip of water, though his voice didn't exactly 
come back to him.  He wondered if anyone had heard his words 
besides him.  If he had even said them at all.

"But I'm not coming out if you're gonna yell at me."  Said with 
his face smashed into his legs as he hugged himself and heard the 
seems of his pajamas start to creek.

***

In resignation, Ran rested his head against the door, his hand 
flattened upon the wood.  "I'm sorry, Ken.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  
I won't yell at you.  I wasn't really yelling at you then.  I 
just..."

"Just come out."  

***

What of past it? If he opened the door? What would he see? An 
empty hotel room since he in truth had fallen ill and this was 
all a dream? The hallway with Youji's room across it and filled 
with the perfume of a lady who had never been there before and 
never would be again? 

No, all those fears were but pale banishments of the one more:
he couldn't shake the feeling if he opened the door, he would 
find Kaze, sitting on the bed, patting his bare lap, and waiting 
for him.  Like nothing had changed.

Dream or not, he reached up and tilted the handle to the door 
until it would tilt no more, though still he tugged upon it.  
That was it? Just pull and he would know the truth?

Ken gave no more particular thought to it.  Said nothing as he 
slowly parted the door.  Just stayed in place, looking ashamed.  
And quiet.  Feeling Ran's eyes trickle over him with some abashed 
and melancholic wonderment.

"I guess..." he finally offered, wringing his hands and smiling 
pathetically.  "We can just commiserate together."  

Still shuddering, Ken reached over with the utmost hesitation and 
pulled Ran into a loose embrace. 

***

"Ken..."  Hesitantly, Ran had returned the embrace with a kiss to 
his temple.  "I don't want to hurt you. I never have wanted that.  
Never.  Please believe me."  

***

"If you'll believe that it's not you I'm afraid of..." With wide, 
wet eyes, Ken gazed up at Ran who still, after his kiss, hovered 
just above his head.

"What a pair we are."

Ran did not seem to be particularly amused by this dark little 
jest, and in penance, he reached up, and caressed one of his 
flushed cheeks- the roses sprung up on his ivory.  

"Ai shite'ru." 

But he started to pick himself up then.  And Ran carried them 
both to their feet.  "Which is why I think you needa go back to 
bed. I don't want you any sicker... and besides." He stopped and 
rubbed his eyes after flopping down, hand in hand with Ran upon 
the covers.   "It's a lot warmer in bed."

So he pulled back the covers and patted the stretch of satin 
beside him.  "I'll stay with you all night.  I promise."

***

"It's warmer in bed *now*," Ran replied, pulling the blankets up 
to his neck with a feverish shudder, "since you're going to stay 
with me."  

He rolled onto his side to gaze at him solemnly, holding Ken's 
hand to his chest.  

"I love you, too."

*****