Disclaimer: I don't own Wiess Kruez….deal with it.

Silent Gifts

It had started out whenhe had first moved in. First, it was flowers, sunflowers to be precise, they lasted for two weeks. Then random small gifts that made it very difficult to guess who had actually sent them. Just little cute desk cluttering junk, he couldn't find the heart to throw them out. It gave the empty office a homey feel.

However, now the boxes were found any random day and the timing was always perfect. Just to remind him that he was doing the right thing. Takatori-san sighed as he glared at the cardboard box that now was sitting outside his office. It was the only part of his week he looked forward to. The secretary knew better than to even open it, let alone touch it. It had easily passed all the security checks. Everyone in the building knew that Takatori Mamoru received packages from a 'secret admirer'. The elder women loved to gossip about his love life. He rolled his eyes and carried the package inside his large office.

The office itself wasn't that fascinating, a desk, a leather twirling chair, it had a large window, and lots of papers scattered all around. Manx was getting on his case about that again, he sighed and placed the box down. He flopped down in his chair staring at the box intently, interlocking his fingers as he continued to stare at the box out of the corner of his blue eyes. His mind drifted back to the time when the first package arrived.

It had been two days since he moved into Perisa's old office when he was returning from a lunch break. The entire building had been evacuated in a heart beat. Everyone from the janitor to the bomb squad was there. Mamoru was confused and wanted to be there for the opening of the package but Manx and Briman nearly tied him down to keep him standing still.

"What's going on?" he had asked with a stern face.

"There's a package for you," Manx stated, worry was clearly written on her face. The bomb squad was going through various procedures, "There's no label, and it's obvious someone already wants you dead. Don't even think about trying to sneak in, we have security tighter than you could even dream of, Persia."

"But I haven't done anything," Mamoru protested, throwing his hands in defense.

Manx glanced back at the bomb squad, the captain giving the ok and she pulled Mamoru onto the other side of the parking lot. She rolled her eyes at the boy's innocent act, "You haven't done anything yet." The two paused their conversation; the ok was given from security.

"Did you dust for prints?" Mamoru asked.

"It came clean. It passed all the security checks. But still, tons of people would do anything to take you out at this point. It's just too early to risk anything." Manx stated firmly. The captain of the bomb squad came in with a stern glare as he shoved the box in his boss' arms. "Well?"

"It's nothing, next time tell your 'friend' to leave an address," the captain grumbled as the bomb squad moved out, muttering about something about getting a stalker at his age.

"What's the deal?" Mamoru muttered as he looked at the box. His blue eyes widened in shock as it was a book that he hadn't heard of and knew he didn't order it. "What the heck? Who…argh!"

"Looks like you've got a secret admirer," Manx chuckled noting the material of the book, "Don't worry it's a good book. I highly recommend it."

Mamoru sighed and shook his head, "After the flower shop, I don't want anymore secret admirers. But honestly, what the heck, they could have at least left a death threat."

"I have a feeling this one won't go away," Manx smirked and gave him a pat on the head. He growled at her and she just laughed as they returned to the building.

Two weeks later, it was a similar scene only this time rumor spread so fast he had bets being taken on if the admirer was going to come out of the closet. The bomb squad was giving him dirty looks as the captain shoved another worn down cardboard box in his arms. This time it was a letter and a frame with an old picture. As soon as he saw the picture he instantly knew who it was from. There was no one else who have gotten a copy of it, two of them were in rehabilitation. However, he had been surprised, no one knew where the person was, or even knew that person existed except three people. So there was no way, it could be who he was hoping it was.

After that he had refused to let the bomb squad get involved. They still checked the box every time it entered the building but it was always the same result. Mamoru chuckled as he remembered the on going joke of how his lover was. He hadn't even seen his lover let a lone got a phone call, so how was he to know. His hand reached in and was surprised to find something very soft. He blinked, then oh so slowly a smile plastered his face. It was a teddy bear with blue ears and feet. Black eyes stared back at him with a soft reassuring smile. He placed the box beside him and then did a double take. There was a green letter hiding on the inside of the cardboard folds.

The young man's hand was fast as he found himself staring at the green envelope, clearly addressed to him. He thought about calling Manx, what if this wasn't from his 'admirer' but argued against himself. If there was anthrax in the box, it would be too late now. Quickly he held his breathe and turned away as a distinct rip was heard through the empty office. He opened one of his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. No little white dust and he wasn't dead yet. "This job is really wearing on me," Mamoru muttered sourly. He pulled out the letter and found one ticket to a new play that had come from America. "Honestly what the hell?" he muttered fuming and glaring at the ticket in hand.

I saw this in the window and I instantly thought of you. I know that my last letter must have been a shock and you're probably upset with me. I understand completely, it's your choice after all. At times I wonder if you get these letters. You haven't answered me yet and I suppose you have every reason not to. I'll be there, if you aren't then its ok. I'll accept it.

Sincerely,

Yours Forever

Mamoru just stared at the short letter and his jaw hit the floor. There had been letters in the boxes and he had never got them. He hadn't run in a long time, not since his flower shop days on a very busy day.

"Why didn't you tell me? They sent me letters."

"Shit," Manx muttered as her eyes made contact with the letter in her boss's hand. "I told you everyone wants you dead."

"I highly doubt he wants me dead, Manx," Mamoru snapped and held up the ticket for the show. "Now I have to go and apologize for your stupidity."

"Persia, you can't go because you have an important meeting that evening," Manx sighed shaking her head.

"Cancel it," Mamoru gave a firm sneer, "I'm the boss. I'm canceling it because it's just a bunch of stupid politicians and if I end up dead then so be it. You'll think of a ligament excuse, you always do." With that the office door slammed and Mamoru left the office early for the first time since he had started working.

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Omi was standing in front of the theatre. He had come very early a half hour. Within that time he had demanded that Manx go home along with all the undercover agents she had posted throughout the building. After much persuasion of cutting salaries, they agreed and now it was five minutes till show time. There was still no notice he sighed and headed in. He found seats that were front and center. They were one of the best seats in the house. The theatre was packed and he struggled to find his seat. He tried to look around but the lights instantly dimmed and the show began.

It was getting towards intermission after he had finally relaxed absorbed in the color and the sounds. West Side Story told the modern day tail of Romeo and Juliet and the drama was about to really begin in the next act. Then he felt the firm interlocking of fingers, leather gloved hands slowly crept into his hand making him gasp as they gave his hand an extra hard squeeze. It lingered for a moment, soft feather light, comforting, and warm touch. It made his stomach flutter. Then suddenly, it was gone and intermission sent a rush of people out into the hall. He was easily pushed and shoved towards the exit and frantically searching for anything or anyone. But, he only found himself in a crowd of strangers. Fifteen minutes later he was sitting back in the theatre forgetting about the show and staring at the crowd intently but no one gave him a clue.

He returned home from the theatre more tired than he could ever remember. With a graceful flop he landed on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then the tears came, he didn't know how they were but his heart hurt more than he could ever remember. It hadn't hurt this much in a long time. A cool breeze ran through his hair and he jolted. Instantly, rolling onto the floor out of view and searching for his gun. The window was open and someone else was in his apartment. A tall dark figure dashed in and out of the moonlight.

"What do you want? Who are you?"

He aimed his gun on pure instinct. However, he hadn't realized how fast the figure moved. It was fast and standing right behind him, it felt like death. He swallowed hard trying his best not to panic, but his breathing was erratic. Then the hands enclosed around his, gently a solid body was against his back.

"Put it down, Omi, it's just me."

That was the point that Omi forgot how to breathe. The hot breathe on his left ear, along with the trace of a slender nose. It inhaled his shampoo scent and nuzzled him softly; the smaller man gulped as the hands slowly released his hold on the gun between his hands. Then the brushing of lips on his cheeks was wet from a single tear trickling down his cheek. He knew this emotion from somewhere. It had been a long time, such a long time.

"What do you want?"

The only answer to that question was answered with the twirling of the room and a slamming into the solid body. His face landed in a tall chest that had a heart beating hard. Leather hands just held him gently and he threatened to break there. Omi was terrified he didn't want to look up and see who held him on a whim.

"Nothing, I just need to hold you for a bit."

The voice was velvety and thick. A chin rested on top of his head and he found himself falling back onto his bed, he kept his eyes closed tightly. This was obviously a cruel dream, within moments he would find himself alone and the morning light would walk in. But right now, he was tired and let himself be held and hold whoever was clutching to him. His fingers found soft short locks and he let out a sigh, opening his blue eyes. His mouth went dry, there lying on top of him was the last person he thought he would ever see again. There was one of the few men alive who actually knew about his real name and past life. Before he was Takatori Mamoru, when he was an assassin and not running the family business, his jaw dropped for the second time that day.

"R..Ran. Wha…"

"Sh…Omi."

A leather gloved hand gently silenced him. Omi blinked in shock. Violet eyes stared at him intently and the only sound in the apartment was their breathing. The two just stared at each other, and then gently the redhead gave him a smile. Omi's breathe hitched as their lips met for a moment and their fingers interlocked in the darkness. Lips pressed harder eventually gaining access and they locked. It was warm, it was comfort, and it was his drug. Their drug, their way of coping with life, a single guilty pleasure no one could steal from them.

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Dawn broke over Tokyo the next day. Takatori Mamoru couldn't remember if Fujimiya Ran had actually said goodbye or not. All he remembered of the night was a warm body and soft hands that held him until he was in a deep sleep. He arrived to work in a flurry of hellos, good mornings, and smiles. Today he was actually smiling for the first time in a long time. He reached his office and there sure enough on his desk was an all too familiar dull cardboard box, still taped shut. His smile beamed and heart rate raced.

Quickly, he opened it and then silence rang through the office. His breathe became erratic and then the cardboard box was thrown against the office door. It landed on the other side of the room with a thud. There was an empty box, but on his desk was an all too familiar black katana. The blood was dried and flaky like it had been for been there for months. The blade was rusting and growing dull. Then he fully remembered the pervious evening, and his head snapped up looking around frantically as he heard the echo of a voice from many years ago. A lone tear trickle down his cheek but it only started the flood as he fell apart.

"Sh…Omi." a final breathe from a loving voice, "it's ok, just breathe."

End

Omi: I hate you.

WR: Yes, I know I suck royally. But for your information, I woke up at 4:00 in the morning to write this after waking up on a tack so I'm entitled to be a bitch. …I hope you enjoyed that, I hope I don't write another one of these types of fics in a long long time. But I'm still here (smiles)

Omi (beats up and leaves author in a bloody mess) Damn fan girls (runs off to find Aya)