Summary: The Host Club is taken hostage by several ex-cons who are seeking a large ransom in exchange for their safe return. But things did not go as planned.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Host Club or its characters. I just put them into my story.


Prologue: Aftermath

The police siren lights brightened the dark night sky to a dark, unsightly red. The color of blood. There was a large crowd gathering around the borders of the police tape, forcing everyone back to wonder what had happened. Despite the apprehension of the crowd and the bite of the cool autumn air, he felt numb from head to toe. He sat in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Why do I feel nothing,
he wondered, his eyes roving to his hands which held the blanket ends together. He could see his fingers, his hands, move, but he couldn't feel them moving. It was as though he was watching someone else move. Is it shock?

His eyes wandered away from his hands to glance out the open doors of the ambulance. He watched dazedly as two body bags were placed into the back of a black hearse that read CORONERS on the side in big white letters and felt his heart tighten as the doors slammed shut. I couldn't save them. They were my friends…and I couldn't save them. I was…pathetic…I was useless. He inhaled sharply as he felt tears trickle and snake down his cheeks. Irritated, he removed his glasses and brushed them away hurriedly, suddenly feeling embarrassed and vulnerable at his expression of emotions.

Pushing himself to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the floor, he forced himself out of the ambulance and over to the hearse, despite the protests he heard from several people. The tinted windows denied him being able to see the body bags inside. Not caring if he would get in trouble, he opened the door and climbed in to join the corpses that were once his lively friends. There wasn't much room, but somehow he managed to squeeze himself in.
Should I unzip the bags? I want to see them…but I don't know…how they died...they could be in really bad shape. He was pulled away from his thoughts as he heard the sound of water on plastic. He gritted his teeth, irritated that he was once again crying. Hold it together. You can't cry, not in front of all these strangers…

"Excuse me, sir," one of the hearse drivers said, "You can't be in this vehicle. Would you please get out?" For a moment, he stared at her blankly, as he processed her words. Although he understood what she wanted, he refused to get out of the vehicle. Two of his friends lay encased in a cold plastic bag because of inability to act. Perhaps if he had followed Haruhi's suggestion, they would still be alive. If he couldn't save them, the least he could do was travel with them to the morgue; he owed them that much and more.

"Sir," the woman stated again, more firmly this time, "Would you please get out of the vehicle?"
"Would you please allow me some quiet with my friends," he growled, glaring at the woman menacingly. The woman took a step back and turned away from the vehicle. From his peripheral vision, he could see her heading over towards the nearest police officers. A few moments later, he could hear several pairs of footsteps approaching him. A quick glance up showed the coroner woman returning with three officers in tow.

"Son," the chubbiest of the officers said, "Would you please come out of there? I understand that these people were friends of yours, but you can't be riding around in the back. You should be over with the paramedics-"

"I don't need any paramedics," he growled. "Just leave me alone. I just want to be alone!" If it was possible, he would have backed away from the officers, but in the cramped quarters of the hearse, it wasn't possible.
He fought the strong hands that hauled him out of the back of the hearse and pinned him to the ground. Seeing the distraught in his eyes, one of the officers that were restraining him called over one of the nearby EMTs. As the EMT knelt down by his head Kyoya could see that he was preparing a syringe, most likely a sedative.

"No, I need to see them," he growled, straining against the three officers that were struggling to pin him to the concrete. "I need to see them."
"It's alright," he heard the officer and the EMT say simultaneously. "You just need to calm down." It's not alright, Kyoya thought angrily as he thrashed underneath the officers firm hold. Nothing's alright. They're dead because of me…I couldn't save them. He felt the prick of a needle in his arm, which was soon followed by a wave of euphoria that relaxed all his muscles, making him go limp. A curtain of darkness was beginning to quickly take hold, pulling him into the blackness of unconsciousness.
He's dead because of me…I should…listened to Haruhi…I…useless.
It became increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. He found them drifting shut and when he opened them again, he was back in the ambulance, lying on a gurney, with his sister Fuyumi staring down at him, a concerned look on her face.
I…need…
Again, his eyes drifted shut and they refused to open. Although he struggled against the effects of the sedative, he was ultimately succumbing to unconsciousness.
"Tamaki…"


A/N: Okay, so this is my first OHSHC story and I'm not sure if I got Kyoya's character quite right, but I tried to think of what he would be like in an extreme state of shock, confusion, anger, despair and grief and this is what happened. There will be more chapters, hopefully soon. Feel free to favourite, follow and or review; I appreciate it all.

PS- I had to start writing this down. I saw this entire story play out in a dream and I thought it would make a great story, and I wanted to share it with all of you. So the story is mine, but the characters are, sadly, not mine.