Diclaimer: I don't own the characters or the series. Amano Akira does. I'm just playing with them for a bit.

Clouded Heavens

The pain was gone.

That was the first thing Kyouya noticed upon waking up. Well, at least he was rather confident he had woken up. His eyes were still closed so he couldn't see anything save for the vague light filtered through his eyelids, but at least he was thinking. He was aware of himself. Compared with the darkness that had swallowed him earlier, it was a big step up.

The next thing he made note of was the silence. It wasn't the heavy silence of the battleground after the fighting had ended, disturbed by the sounds of people who were not quite dead enough or smart enough to stay silent and still, yet, the scent of blood pervading the air to such an extent that it ceased to be a mere smell and invaded his other senses as well. It wasn't the peaceful silence of a hospital, either, with the distant steps along hallways and the quiet hum of various machines, or even the silence he had long since associated with his home, the perfectly still air every now and then broken by the sounds of the birds in the trees outside. This was just silence, a perfect lack of sound, nothing else.

A faint breeze rose up, caressing his face with a cool hand, sending the sound of rustling blades of grass into his ears. Grass. There had been no grass when he had lost his consciousness, just the hard floor and crumbled stone beneath his feet.

Stirring a bit, he tried to figure out the situation of his body. He could not find any serious pain or wounds. His hands moved at his mental prompt, brushing against what appeared fresh grass under him. Slowly, he moved his hand to his abdomen, expecting to find the wound he had been dealt earlier, the deep, gaping wound slowly sapping him dry in the middle of his fallen enemies. Perhaps, he thought with the hopefulness of one who had little hope left, perhaps he was just in too much of a shock to feel the pain that should have been there. Perhaps he was just hallucinating.

There was no wound, no blood, not even bandages. Underneath the thin layer of his shirt, all he found was the scratchless skin of his torso.

Well. That would explain why he felt no pain anymore.

He opened his eyes, seeing the expanse of a clear, blue sky above him. Turning his head, he ascertained what his other senses had already told him; he was lying in fresh grass on what appeared to be a rather featureless plain. Some way further he could see trees, all in full leaf, lush and green. It was not something he would have expected to see in the middle of the winter.

Shrugging away the worst of his lingering exhaustion, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking a proper look at himself. His clothes had changed, not that it surprised him too much at this point. Instead of the tattered suit he could last remember wearing, he was clad in a simple pair of neat black slacks and a white, crisp shirt. He didn't even have to look to know that a familiar red armband was attached to his sleeve.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, which at least was still the same. For a moment, he had thought it would be back to the style he had worn in middle school, but the short, unruly locks were still there. At least something was familiar, then.

It wouldn't be long now, he thought, allowing himself a small smirk. Perhaps he had never given this scenario much consideration, but now that he was here, he knew with perfect clarity what to expect. Of course. It wasn't like that idiot would allow for anything else.

Falling back on the grass, he let his eyes fall closed again, quite enjoying the lack of pain. It was a situation he hadn't been in for a while. Between the wounds and bruises and scrapes and the deep set, insistent ache somewhere inside, it had been days, if not more, since he had last settled down for more than a feverish nap before springing right back into action. Now, though, he found himself yawning, reminded of just how far he had pushed himself. There was only so far a person could go without a proper break, no matter how strong or skilled or persistent, and it appeared he was quite overdue for one.

Now, he had all the time in the world for a good, long nap.

His rest was next disturbed an undetermined period of time later as he found the light of the invisible sun blocked by a shadow. Not sensing any hostile intentions, he took his time in stretching out before opening his eyes, giving a massive yawn while he was at it. Ah, the joys of not aching everywhere.

Blinking a few times, he managed to make out the form of a human in the shadow looming over him. It was what he had expected, really. The ancient, worn coat that seemed far too warm for the pleasant weather, the messy blonde hair, yet another pointless t-shirt. There was even the frown he had predicted in his mind.

"Cavallone." He smirked.

"Kyouya." The frown didn't waver one bit. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked with another yawn, sitting up again. "I was in the middle of a rather pleasant nap right up until you arrived."

"You know what I mean, Kyouya." Cavallone crouched down, looking at him with a serious expression. "I've just about managed to learn my way around here. I don't know whether time runs in a similar fashion here, but I can't imagine it would have been all that long for you. A few months, perhaps?"

"Months?" He couldn't help but laugh. "Make that six days. ...Well, it might be seven." He had been a bit fuzzy on the details by the end.

"Six days?" Now, the frown made way to widened eyes and a shocked expression. "Kyouya... what did you do?"

"What did you expect me to do?" he asked, rising his eyebrows. What a ridiculous question. "I hunted down the bastards, one by one, until I had enough information to trace it back to their famiglia. Then I set off for their headquarters, not notifying anyone until I was far enough there was nothing they could do to stop me."

"Kyouya." Cavallone sighed. "You know I never would have wanted you to break yourself like that..."

"When have I ever followed your wishes, anyway?" He raked a hand through his hair, an irritated little gesture he had adopted at some point over the years. Cavallone, he was sure, knew very well what it meant. "You should know better than to expect me to ignore the destruction of my property." His eyes narrowed for a moment, though his ire was not directed at the man in front of him. He had gotten over that initial rage a while ago.

"I never wanted to cause you pain." Cavallone sighed, always the herbivore wasn't he, reaching out his hand to brush it against Kyouya's arm in a silent apology. He'd long since learnt just how useless it was to offer spoken ones.

"You were weak," Kyouya said with a biting tone. "You were weak and allowed yourself to be overpowered in an unacceptable fashion. I wasn't about to be weak as well and not seek revenge."

"Did you find it?" Cavallone's tone was soft, now, just a step above the borders of audible, his eyes sliding a smidgeon to the side from meeting Kyouya's. "Your revenge."

"When the Vongola arrive at the destination I announced, they will find none alive."

"And you?" A mere whisper.

"They will find none alive." Repeating himself, perhaps, but it appeared to be necessary.

The frown was back on the blonde's face. "Kyouya... please tell me you didn't. Not for me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Cavallone. I didn't do anything," he said with a wry tone. As though he would be that desperate over such a thing. "I took a bad hit to my mid-section during the battle, and passed out in the end. As it appears, I must have bled out before any help could arrive."

"Kyouya..." The brown eyes appeared shadowed, but at least they were meeting his gaze again. "You were never supposed to... go like that."

"You fell first," Kyouya said. "You broke your promise that I would be the only one you would allow to take your life. Without you there, leaving all alone in the midst of my enemies was all I had left."

For a moment, the idiot was silent. Then he lunged forward, closing Kyouya in his arms, drawing him to his chest. "I missed you," he murmured. "I missed you every moment I spent here... I know I should be upset because you shouldn't be here yet, but I'm selfish. I always was selfish about you, Kyouya."

"That's because you are a herbivore." Nevertheless, he found something that was not quite a smirk curling his own lips as well even as Cavallone's weight pushed him down on the ground.

"That I am, Kyouya. That I am." Cavallone laughed, now, almost surprising Kyouya. "I'm glad... I'm glad I could find you."

"Of course you found me. You always do no matter how I try to avoid it." He buried his face in the fur collar lining the hood of the old coat. "...It even smells the same."

"My coat? I know." Now, Cavallone pulled back enough to grin down at him. "It's strange, you know. Far as I can tell, what we are here is a reflection of how we truly see ourselves." Now, the grin made way for a grimace just for a moment. "Good thing, too. I can't imagine you'd have been very happy to see me if I had arrived in the condition I left."

"It was... not a pleasant sight," he admitted, somewhat reluctant to recall the images etched deep into his mind. His eventful life had made him rather desensitized to most shows of gore and destruction, but finding your lover's brains spread on the wall was more than just a simple matter of tolerating the sight of blood.

There was a light kiss just to the corner of his mouth, another silent apology. The idiot. If he was going to be regretful, he should have never gotten killed in the first place.

"How we see our true selves, hmm?" Kyouya then said, rather eager to forget the previous subject. "I suppose that would explain why my attire is similar to my middle school days."

"I would say you're hopeless, but I know you'd just take that as a compliment." Cavallone chuckled, rolling over to lie on Kyouya's side instead of on top of him. His hand brushed down Kyouya's left arm, pausing at the bare wrist. "And no bracelet... you always placed Namimori above Vongola, after all."

"Of course. Namimori was mine."

"I know, Kyouya. And you were Namimori's." The larger hand caressed his, then paused before entwining their fingers, lifting Kyouya's hand just enough for them both to see it as they lay side by side. "...Or were you?"

"Don't think too much of yourself, Cavallone." Kyouya's lips twitched as they both looked at the sole ring on his hand. It was a simple design, plain and proper. Not like he would have agreed to wear anything else. Just a simple golden band, with the outline of a tiny horse engraved onto it.

Cavallone lifted his left hand as well, the band with the silhouette of a skylark glistening on his finger. "Never, Kyouya." He turned his head towards Kyouya. Kyouya turned his to meet the brown gaze, meeting a myriad of emotions he wasn't sure he would ever be able to decipher in their entirety. "At least now, you won't have to complain about always having to share me with my famiglia."

"I never was good at sharing." He leant closer, capturing Cavallone's lips with his own. The idiot herbivore talked far too much, anyway.

The kiss was returned without much of a complaint.

Their bodies caught on, now, turning and moving and leaning and entangling until they were all over each other again, matters of rings or bonds or possession the farthest thing from their mind as they concentrated merely on the need and heat of their little reunion. It didn't matter what Cavallone wore on his hand, Kyouya thought in an almost impish manner, as long as he was using it to touch him.

Somewhere far above their heads, on the clear sky undisturbed by the sight of a sun, a single cloud floated along its path, secure in the embrace of its very own sky.