Title: Help Elsewhere

Author: Proverbial Pumpkin

Rating: T for language

Summary: Tohma's instrument is one of his few joys in life. K stumbles into a closer relationship with Tohma and when an accident renders the keyboardist unable to play, K is there.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: I'm playing around with the point-of-views in this chapter and some of the later ones. This is so we get more than just K's perspective…since K obviously isn't with Tohma every second of his life [yet. And now, Chapter the Next!

"I understand your…bitterness, sir. But please do not contact me again."

Tohma rolled his eyes as he listened to the prattling, raving response on the other end of the line. "Yes, sir, I realize that. Perhaps you should have settled when we offered. I did warn you- What? ... Vindication?"

He leaned back in his chair, watching a small bug crawl along the edge of the ceiling tiles. "You should not be overly-dramatic, sir. It may only end up costing you more money….I see…. Ah, well. If you insist, I suppose my lawyers will be up for another laugh at your expense. Good luck, Aizawa-san."

Tohma hung up, his mind turning immediately to other matters. He had bounced back considerably from his atypical illness. One day's leave at home only incited him to quarantine himself back in his office again, with the understanding that all requests for his company had to be submitted in writing and slid beneath the door before he would consider unlocking it. Even then, Ryuichi was the only one allowed to disturb a full minute of his time.

Finally, he opened up his office to the general public again, at last feeling up to handling the daily trifles of the underlings beneath him. He had one specificorder of business in particular to attend to, one that had been flitting about in the back of his mind for some time now. With a full physical recovery and a newly invigorated ambition, he decided there was no time like the present. And presently, his top two bands were both in their prime.

"That's correct, Sakano-san. A joint concert."

The producer's eyes nearly sparkled with adoration, or something equally disconcerting, when Tohma spoke these words. "Mr. President, that's brilliant! Q-Quite an undertaking… but brilliant!"

Tohma gave him a patronizing smile. "Just a business move, Sakano-san," he said, though Tohma was convinced within himself that yes, this was an excellent idea. Strategic, really. Bad Luck was climbing the charts and Nittle Grasper was already on the top, so a show or two combining both would not only be an instant cash-in from sales, but would provide a nice bit of publicity as well. Fitting in a few local sell-outs prior to Nittle Grasper's international tour could only mean good things. "And yes, it will take a bit of preparation. Extra security, advertising… but you leave that to K-san and me. What I want you to concern yourself with is Shindou-kun."

"Shindou-kun?"

Tohma folded his hands across his desk in front of him. "Nittle Grasper is easily the most popular band in Japan at present. This concert will benefit it no matter what happens. And if Bad Luck performs to the best of its ability, it can almost come within reach of Ryuichi's standards, and begin this year with an excellent start as well. But Shindou-kun is not consistent. If Shindou-kun does not give one of his best performances ever, Bad Luck will be nothing but an opening act. This late after Bad Luck's debut…. To perform with Nittle Grasper and be considered only mediocre in comparison would hinder Bad Luck's success in the future."

Sakano clenched his hands. "Shindou-kun will perform well."

"He'd better. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this concert is as much a risk for Bad Luck as it is a shoe-in for Nittle Grasper." Suddenly, Tohma's phone rang, interrupting him. He placed a hand over it. "Thank you for coming in, Sakano-san. You can go now." He gave him another smile, and Sakano bowed and let himself out as Tohma answered the call.

K

"You're kidding!"

Sakano shook his head, adjusting his glasses. "Seguchi-san just told me."

I had to smile. "Seguchi-san certainly likes to keep us on our toes, doesn't he?"

Sakano nodded. "He's on the phone right now, but I'm sure Seguchi-san will want to discuss this with you in more detail at some point today. My project is Shindou-kun."

"At some point? I'm going in there now. I want to know how the hell he tells you about all this before seeing me."

Ignoring Sakano's weak protests, I barreled into Tohma's office and let the door fall behind me. Tohma was seated at his desk, listening intently to whoever was on the other end of the line. I plopped down on the same sofa I had found Tohma lying on not two weeks before, wondering how long this was going to take.

Not long. Tohma's side of the conversation was terse, to say the least, but brief. "Ah….I understand. I can be there soon…. Well, I'd really rather we- Yes… Alright. Yes, I understand you perfectly. Good-bye." I heard the receiver click into the holder and got up. Smiling, I strode over to Tohma and put both palms flat on the president's desk. "Now, what's this I hear about a joint concert, and why did I hear it from Sakano of all people?"

Tohma didn't answer. He was staring worriedly at the phone, deep in thought and paying me no attention. "….Seguchi-san?"

Tohma started. His eyes widened as he noticed me for the first time, three feet away from him. "K-san!" Tohma passed a hand over his eyes and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I'm sorry… what do you need?"

I had never seen worry and shock so clearly defined on Tohma's face. It was alarming, and I was taken aback. For a moment I forgot the concert. "Are you… are you alright, Seguchi-san?"

Tohma's eyes flickered back to the phone for an instant, and then away again. He drew a shaky breath and closed his eyes. I watched him intently. But when the blonde looked up at me again, his usual complacent expression had regained control of his features. "Yes, K-san," he said evenly. "What can I do for you?"

I put it out of my mind. The phone call was, after all, the president's own business and I had never been one to pry. And whatever had thrown Tohma temporarily off-balance didn't seem to be a lasting issue. Every time I saw him in passing that day, Tohma greeting me with his accustomed closed-eye smile as if nothing wrong had happened all day. By the evening, I was even beginning to question that perhaps I'd simply imagined Tohma's distressed reaction earlier.

I worked late that night. I wasn't exactly pressed for time or over-loaded with things to do, but I wanted to be there. There's something satisfying about being alone in that huge building, and knowing that when people drove by, yours is one of the few offices in the whole studio illuminated through the windows. When I finally did leave, there were only a handful of vehicles left in the lot. One was a dark blue Eclipse - Tohma's. No surprise there, I thought as I got into my own more modest car. For an executive, Tohma did a surprising amount of work himself and I supposed that with a Nittle Grasper tour coming up, he must have more than ever to do. But pulling out of the lot, I glanced up to the higher stories. Tohma's window was dark. I paused for a moment, thinking, and then switched into reverse.

It was really only a hunch that led me back inside the studio, walking along the dim hallways of the fourth floor. After all, the fact that Tohma wasn't in his office was no indication that he was in the practice room I had met him in earlier. But after seeing Tohma's reaction to the unspecified phone call earlier, I wanted to know if he was.

The corridor was silent. The low lights were always kept on in the studio, but their feeble illumination of the walls only punctuated the fact that I simply had no business being there at that hour. As I neared my destination, I began to feel slightly ridiculous. It was 11:36 at night, and I was walking along a deserted hallway looking for someone who wasn't there. This is what I get for concerning myself with other people's business, I thought.

I balled my fists and shoved them in his pockets. But my sullen attitude turned to curiosity as soon as I turned the corner and saw the door to the practice room. Still no sounds came from inside, but the light was on. Ah ha. Once again, keen instincts and intuition prevail. I peered through the glass panel just as I had two weeks ago. And there he was.

Again, Tohma was seated at the piano. A pencil was balanced behind his ear, almost hidden underneath the layers of platinum hair. Today, he was staring at several sheets of music on the stand. Staring, but not looking. Tohma was almost gazing straight through it, and I recognized that desolate expression as the one I'd seen just a few hours ago.

I tore my eyes from the window and crossed my arms, leaning my back against the hallway wall. My eyes cut back to the door. Whatever Tohma was going through, it was his own business- that much I knew. And the president had always kept his personal dealings outside of discussion. Besides, I knew that if Tohma ever wanted to share the details of his life, I would be one of the last people he'd share them with.

And yet, for some reason…I found myself caring.

Well, not caring. Wondering, maybe. Wondering what was bothering Tohma so much, wondering why Tohma was here, now. Wondering why I myself was there.

My thoughts were interrupted- finally, I heard music. I stayed where I was, listening intently. It was slow, just like the earlier song had begun. But it sounded lower, and not as, well… sweet. It was simply there. I listened for a couple minutes, thinking it would escalate to a dramatic finish like the one I'd heard earlier. I waited for it.

It never came. The notes changed and Tohma switched octaves, but I couldn't detect the smallest dynamic contrast, the slightest drive or passion. Tohma was not playing- he was only pressing keys, and even I could tell the difference. At one point, Tohma began playing a bar and simply never got off it. It sounded like a transition measure; I suspected it was part of a phrase meant to introduce a more intense portion of the piece. But as I listened, puzzled, the same few chords and run simply came again and again.

I frowned and turned back to his panel. Tohma was still looking at the music, but his eyes were fixed on one point of the page, still with that distant, unseeing stare. I listened to the bar a few more times; each time it was played with an eerie uniformity to the time before, and eventually I decided I'd had enough. In one movement I flung the door open. It hit the adjacent door plug with a satisfying thud.

Tohma jumped and let out a small exclamation of surprise. He looked confusedly at the paper in front of him for a moment, as if he hadn't even realized where he'd been playing, and then up at me.

"K-san. I didn't… What time is it?" Tohma began gathering his music together.

I folded my arms. "Almost midnight."

"Oh." Tohma began spreading his music out again. He looked tired, not even attempting to replace the chipper mask I had watched him put on earlier. His eyes held a look that was simply hollow, now. Hollow and resigned.

"Tohma…What was that phone call you got this afternoon?"

Tohma smiled up at me from the bench. "I suppose I should invest in a 'please knock' sign. You weren't supposed to hear any of that."

"I didn't. But I assumed it had to have been something important to throw the great Seguchi Tohma off his stride."

Tohma let out a dry laugh. "You assumed correctly, K-san. As always. But I'm tempted to ask why you're interested."

"I didn't say I was interested."

"Just wondering?"

"Right."

Tohma straightened his hat and began playing again from the beginning. "That call was nothing fatal. Just a bit of news I'll have to handle." His notes were still lifeless, and if it hadn't been for those anesthetized notes, I might not have bothered pressing. As it was, I wanted to slam the lid down over Tohma's fingers to make them stop.

"News you'll have to handle, huh? Then I wonder why you're here, and not at home handling it."

He didn't answer.

"What's going on?"

"Sometime next year, Eiri and Shindou-san are leaving to get a civil union."

"What?"

"Yuki Eiri and Shindou-san."

That threw me off, briefly. The news itself wasn't shocking, but I was surprised to hear it from Tohma, then and there. Surprised, however not enough to miss the sharpness Tohma had begun playing with as soon as he spoke. He articulated each note now, as if to drown out the words he'd spoken with the music. "It won't be recognized here in Japan, of course, but I don't think that's the point. Has Shindou-san not mentioned it?" he asked.

I wondered that myself. Again, Bad Luck tended to ignore eachother, especially when it came to ramblings about Yuki Eiri. "He may have. But Seguchi-san…" I chose my words carefully. "Does that really matter?" Wrong words. "I mean, does it change anything?"

Tohma hummed the note he was on as he stopped playing to turn the page. Then he kept going. "It doesn't. It solidifies the status quo, really."

"So…you haven't really lost anything."

Tohma nearly fumbled a note, but salvaged it. "I suppose not. Only a close friend and the six years I spent putting him back together."

I didn't answer. The secret service man in me desperately wanted details, but for all of Tohma's composure and poise, something in the man's expression kept me from asking. Suddenly, the keyboardist hit a discordant note and stopped. His eyes narrowed and he frowned at his own hands, as if they'd betrayed him. Then he glanced up at me accusingly, as if I'd done something wrong, something he resented. I had seen that look before. A hundred times, usually directed at Shuichi himself. When Tohma spoke, the words were spat out as if they had a bitter taste.

"I did things for him that most people wouldn't do for their own brother."

Again, I had no response. I had almost no idea what Tohma was referring to, only that he had been replaced in the eyes of someone who had once needed him. A few quiet moments passed, during which Tohma leaned forward with his head in his hands. I sat down beside him, and couldn't help noticing that Tohma scooted a hair away from me. Then, still with his head resting on his left palm, he reached forward and pressed a few keys. Again and again he played the same two notes, but gradually changed the volume and length of each one.

I watched his fingers. Up, then down. Into the ivory, then off again. I glanced up at Tohma's face. In just the past few minutes, Tohma's eyes had become more tired-looking and dull.

"Tohma….why don't you go home. I'll drive you."

"That wasn't the real reason why Mika called, though."

Up, down. In, off. I waited for more explanation, and it came.

"She's pregnant."

"Congratulations."

"It's not mine."

Jesus Christ. If there were a tactful way of doing it, I would have stood up and left right then. Possibly.

"You know this?"

Tohma nodded. "For a fact." Then he held up a finger, signaling for me to wait, and focused on the piano. Three notes in succession. Six…seven… He was making something up.

"You mean, you and Mika…You don't…"

Tohma shot me a look. "Of course we do," he said sharply. "But it isn't mine."

"She told you this?"

"I told her. Today, right before I spoke with you." His voice was hauntingly even, and my eyes were glued to him. "My wife is carrying a baby that could not have come from me. She didn't know before today that I physically can't give her any children to carry." Tohma retrieved the pencil from behind his ear and made a few scratches into the piece.

I watched him, speechless. As warped as the whole situation was, it was the confession itself that floored me. Seguchi Tohma had just told me he was unable to have children.

"I'm…I'm sorry."

Tohma dismissed my sympathy. "It's obviously old news to me, K-san. And I'd always viewed it as a sort of insurance. I just never thought it would be the key detail in exposing my wife's affair," he said with a short, bitter laugh.

My eyes were glued to him. "So…what are you going to do?"

Tohma looked at his watch. "For her sake and mine, I believe I'm going to sit here and play."

"For her sake?"

Tohma nodded. "I want to give her enough time to leave."

"You- are you kicking her out of your house?"

Tohma looked remotely offended. "Of course I'm not. I've never made her do anything. She got angry with me when I told her about her own child's parentage, understandably. But since she hasn't been entirely open with me-" Here an ironic smile crept onto Tohma's face, but fell as quickly as it had appeared. "She won't want to let this fester. If I know Mika, and I believe I do, she'll have cleared out almost entirely by now. And she'll wait for my call to begin the divorce."

He shrugged, like that's that, and brushed his bangs out of his face. It only gave me a clearer vision of his eyes, which told a different story from his casual demeanor. He began to play again, following the music with precise, dead notes.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

He was unperturbed. "You asked."

"You know, your playing isn't very good today," I blurted.

Tohma turned to me and smiled, as if this was the best thing he'd heard all day long. "Excellent, K-san. There may be a grain of proper music appreciation in you yet."

I snorted.

"What would you have me do differently?"

I sat down on the bench beside him, grateful to be off the subject of Tohma's disloyal wife. "Well, you could play with some goddamn feeling… Just the other day you were gushing about how amazing this thing was, and now you're making it sound like it's filled with mud inside."

Tohma looked slightly bemused at my indignation- the first smile I had seen on him all day long that had an ounce of humor in it. "Let's see how inspired your playing is once you lose your wife to the father of her child," he said.

I had to laugh at that. For one thing, we both knew my marriage was a joke. But a wife in America was better than nothing. "I'm not a nationally-recognized musician adored for my alleged talents."

"Or any type of musician, adored or otherwise. So don't criticize my playing." Tohma's voice was mock-defensive, and the hollowness in his eyes seemed lightened. I caught myself grinning at the change and slapped on a smirk instead.

"It's almost midnight," I said, checking my wristwatch. "It's absolutely ridiculous that we're sitting in a practice room this late on a Wednesday night."

"Would it be normal on any other night of the week?"

"What?"

"Should we have waited until Thursday?"

I looked at him for a moment, then laughed. I wasn't accustomed to hearing banter from Seguchi Tohma. How strange to find he had a real personality beneath the shallow smiles and brutal professionalism.

"And besides," Tohma said. "I'm here to allow for personal issues. You were the one that came looking for me." Tohma seemed to reflect on that for a moment, looking at me with an expression I couldn't discern.

"And what's more, you found me, here," he said almost to himself. "Completely wifeless…" Tohma laughed at my expression and played a quick, fluid scale upwards with his right hand, his fingers flying. "But with a song in my heart."

He smiled at me like he'd said something funny, like he was mocking himself. But somehow, I got the feeling he wasn't really kidding at all.

I stood up. "I liked your song from the other day better. But I guess I'll leave you to it."

Tohma nodded. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked back to the door. When I reached it, I hesitated and turned back around.

Tohma looked at me questioningly, his hands resting beside him on the bench.

I averted my eyes. "Tohma…. I am sorry, though. Are you going to be alright?"

Tohma's face broke into a reassuring smile. "Of course, K-san. We've a concert to prepare for, remember. Besides, I've got this," he said, gesturing to the instrument in front of him. "And," he continued, "if the effort will make you feel any less disappointed in me, I'll even try to breathe a little more life into it for you."

I could appreciate Tohma's valiance in keeping his cool exterior. The man really was a pro. I exited back out to the hall. Shortly after the door clicked shut, I heard Tohma pick the song back up from the same measure I had initially interrupted. Only now, he kept going, and I looked back through the door window as Tohma continued with the rest of the piece. After a minute or so Tohma caught sight of me out of the corner of his eyes, and he glanced up, meeting my gaze through the glass. For a moment I felt a small, exhilarating connection with him, a quick second of normal, human understanding. Then Tohma turned his attention back to the music, and I smiled to myself as I headed back down the hallway, listening to the crescendo which followed behind me.

Author's Notes: Well, that was a long one. I know it seems like I'm taking my sweet time with the plot here, but I promise promise promise it moves along nicely next chapter. Tohma angst abounds! Please review!!