Squee, squee, squee! I found the slash! It was buried under all this plot, you see, and I decided to break from the fighting shit to establish some kind of slash. So I think we have one or two chapters focused on Sousuke and Gauron… um… not killing each other. I'm trying OMGsohard to keep them both in character… Sousuke, by the way, remains sky-high on painkillers the entire chapter.

Poor thing. He doesn't stand a chance.

You, my wonderful readers, ROCK! Squee! I pounce upon all of you! This concludes my Thanksgiving writing spree, lol… now I'm back to square one.

Kaname

"Where are we going?" Kurz demanded. "I need a destination!"

"I don't know, but we can't go back to the apartment," Melissa shot back.

"What about my place?" I offered, trying to calm them down.

"We can't go there," Melissa told me. "Your place was broken into this morning – that's the first place they'll go. Kurz, I'm going to try for enough of a signal to get ahold of the de Daanan, see if that's the end of it. I can't imagine that they won't send more people out – will they?"

"Richardson was a failure, and MUSE knows it," Gauron said calmly, from beside Sousuke's unconscious form. "If they'd seriously been determined to grab Chidori on the first round, they wouldn't have sent him. He's a joke. Or – he was a joke," he added smugly. "Now that they know what you're capable of, they'll send out bigger guns next time. This was just an experiment."

Melissa cursed, as only she could. "Fuckers. We need somewhere to lay low until Mithril can either pick us up, or take Kaname somewhere safe."

"What about Sousuke?" I asked hesitantly. "He needs a doctor."

Gauron was shaking his head. "He doesn't need a doctor – the bleeding is slowing down already, in case you didn't notice. But he's going to need stitches, and I can't exactly do that in a moving van. So. Wherever the hell you people decide to go, you'd better make it fast."

"You're going to give him stitches?" I repeated shrilly.

"Well would you like to do it, Miss Kaname?" he retorted. "I hope you're okay with all the blood – because there's enough for it to be messy, trust me. Have you ever administered stitches before?"

'I don't mean I'll do it," I snapped, "I just thought that we could take him to the hospital or something –"

"They most likely know that at least one of us was injured," he cut me off, "but yes, by all means – let's do go to a hospital, because I'm sure those aren't being watched like hawks right now. There were three other men in that school who Kashim and I didn't shoot, because they weren't down with us – but I can imagine they're reporting back to MUSE at this very minute. In small words that you're sure to understand: no hospitals."

I reddened. "Well excuse me, you –"

"You're excused."

"Hey, lay off," Kurz cut in. "Kaname, he's an asshole, but he's on our side – amazingly. I really doubt he'll let anything happen to Sousuke. Plus, neither me or Melissa are experienced enough with stitches… if we were, we'd do it ourselves."

I fixed him with a death glare. "Why is the world upside-down today?" I demanded. "Last I heard –" I spun on the hijacker-slash-kidnapper behind me. "-You were trying to kill us all! So what changed?"

"Well," Kurz muttered, "at least we can't say it's the money."

"Fortunately," Gauron snapped, "I'm not negotiating prices with you."

"Not the point," Melissa interrupted. "The point is, we've got a man down and nowhere to go, and at the moment, no way to get in touch with Kalinin, Tessa, or anyone who can get us out of this mess. So until we can get ahold of the de Daanan and get somewhere safe, we need to find a place to stop just long enough to stitch up Sousuke."

"Careful," Kurz gritted, "it's about to get a little bumpy."

At a glance, I could see the road ahead of us cease to be a road, so much as a path. Kurz was getting us as far from the city as he could, as fast as possible. And, yes, bumpy was a very appropriate word.

Sousuke made a soft noise of pain, even though I was pretty sure he was still unconscious, and I turned to him immediately. "Kurz, slow down­," I insisted.

Sousuke... I reached out a hand to smooth hair from his face – only to have my wrist caught in midair.

"Don't touch him," Gauron said shortly.

A smart-ass response was on the tip of my tongue, but after looking at them for a long moment, anything I could have thought to say died on my tongue. I blinked. He didn't even spare me a glance; save for ensuring that I didn't lay a hand on Sousuke, I was certain that he didn't even know I was there. His free hand rested over the gash in Sousuke's stomach, and even though he was applying pressure, blood was seeping between his fingers and covering his hand. His other hand released my wrist, almost as an afterthought, and when Sousuke's body seized in obvious pain as the van jarred him back and forth, his hand reached and sought out the man beside him. I wasn't sure who was squeezing tighter; Sousuke, or Gauron.

…I was totally right.

My eyes met Kurz's clear blue in the rearview mirror, wide and a little shocked. He glanced past me in the mirror, to where I was pretty sure he could see Gauron and Sousuke, and then looked back at me. "Yeah," he sighed.

I threw another peek over my shoulder, just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Gauron's face was devoid of expression – no worry, no irritation, no nothing, save for the faintest traces of a smirk.

I didn't like that. Not even a little bit.

Gauron

It was only slightly annoying to put up with everyone hovering while I stitched that idiot up, and it would have proven distracting if I hadn't gotten used to tuning out the squawking. Although once I'd shot Kashim up with a heavy dose of morphine, I'd almost talked myself into dropping Chidori off with MUSE, free of charge.

Weber glanced at me. "How much morphine did you give him?"

"Enough to keep him on the moon for about six hours. He won't be in any condition for combat for at least three days, but he'll want to rush in with guns blazing the minute he's lucid again. So, I'm ensuring that he won't be lucid until late tonight, when he'll be ready to sleep again. And tomorrow, I'll juice him up again under the guise of knowing what's best for him."

He shook his head. "Make sure you don't get him hooked on that shit… all we need is Sousuke addicted to something illicit."

"Don't worry about that; it's going to take a lot more than just morphine to hook him. If I laced it with crack, maybe…"

His eyes narrowed. "Not funny."

"Well if he's not drugged out of his mind, you know he'll want to strike back. Today, while it wasn't a failure, wasn't a success, either. Kashim will do anything in his power to ensure Chidori's safety, and if it's the last thing he does… well, you know how he gets."

"Yeah, but do you?" he asked seriously.

Very nice segue there, blondie.

I raised my eyebrows. "I've known Kashim since you were in grade school, boy."

"I know," Weber replied calmly. "But he would have been in grade school, too."

"Well aren't you a mother hen; glad to know I've got someone to answer to. I'm going to safely assume that we're not talking about knowing how he'll react once he wakes up?"

"Yeah, that's a safe bet."

He glanced around, making sure the girls were still outside the van – Miss Kaname ended up having a weak stomach when it came to needles, and was probably throwing up at the moment. The vapid bitch was with her.

"When we're back at the de Daanan," he told me plainly, "you'll give all your information to Kalinin, and he'll relay it to us. Maybe that's not such a hot idea, and maybe we'd be better off with you on the battlefield with us, but the fact of the matter is that I don't want you around Sousuke anymore. You're fucking with him, and it's really starting to piss me off."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what, go ahead. Play fucking stupid, I don't give a shit. Just leave Sousuke and any history you two have out of this. He's got enough stress right now as it is – he doesn't need to put up with your shit, too."

I smirked. "So you heard?"

"Have I heard," he growled. "After the way you hovered over him today, it wouldn't matter whether Sousuke had told me himself or not! I think the only person who doesn't know is Melissa, and that's because she's trying to reconfigure that goddamn radio. Yeah, I know, and I have known since before you dropped your stupid, dying ass off at our door, and I know what you said to him on the de Daanan, and I know that's been fucking with him, too. Okay? I think you've done enough damage, so why don't you just leave him alone and jump in front of a stray bullet or something?"

"You heard that?" I asked, unable to squash my amusement.

"The whole fucking submarine heard it!"

"And you said that was 'fucking with him'?" I pressed, unable to help myself.

He clamped his mouth shut – metaphorically, at least. Literally would have been too lucky for me.

"I just think it was kind of shitty, is all," he said neutrally, as though he'd already revealed too much. "He was pretty young and impressionable when – uh – when all that was – when you were… okay, you know what I mean," he sighed. "Anyways. Those were kind of shitty parting words, you know?"

"That was the point, genius," I drawled. "What fun is it if you tell your enemy that you hate him? He already knows that. He expects it. And in the end, that's what makes it okay to kill them – that's how he'd finally justify it to himself. 'He was an evil man and he hated me.' But plant the seed of doubt… plus, I didn't exactly plan on either of us surviving, if you want brutal honesty. It's sort of a poetic end, to go down together. We're an ugly, never-ending cycle, Kashim and I… either we both survive, or we don't. So far, neither of us are keen on dying, so I guess we'll just have to pick a date and agree on it, won't we?"

Weber eyed me suspiciously, wisely aware that the more personal the information, the more deliberately it was spoken. "So why say it at all, if he wasn't supposed to live to dwell on it? Did you mean it?"

"Well isn't that for me to know, and you not to."

888888

Weber didn't stop driving until we were well outside of Tokyo and any major city – we were close to the coast (which probably had something to do with their submarine picking them up at some point), and in the Godforsaken middle of nowhere. He and Mao agreed that it would be wisest if we pitched camp there for the night and waited for help to arrive, so they set Chidori to collecting firewood, and they proceeded to clear a spot for a fire and sleeping areas. Mao suggested making a covered area in case it rained, but the air was entirely too dry. It would have been a waste of her time and mine.

I, meantime, chose to sit and brood while Kashim fell rather vocally from one nightmare to the next. Zaied, he said once. I smiled grimly. His precious Zaied would have survived, if he hadn't shown up in Helmajistan and stubbornly refused to return my warhead to my companions. So I really couldn't be blamed for that particular casualty. Besides, I was only in the habit of killing my allies in extreme situations, and that wasn't one of them.

But back to the brooding.

This was delightfully akin to what Hell must be like – surrounded by Dudley Do-Right and his band of justice police. But there was proving to be more to the mystery of Kashim than I'd originally credited him with… for example, I really had expected him to shoot me the moment he saw me, or at least turned me in to Mithril without blinking, and told me to shove any bargain I had in mind up my ass (that, or I expected him to physically do that, rather than just say it).

But no, he didn't do any of that – much to the frustration of his team members, from what I understood. And instead of just leaving me to die, he played nurse and ended up saving my life.

And here we were now, roles reversed – he the patient, I the only one who could do anything for him. I helped him, and I helped save the lives of his friends, when he expected me to leave them to their enemies.

Funny how things were working out.

Well… either funny, or very convenient for me.

I liked to think it was the latter of the two.

It had definitely occurred to me that he'd consider himself in my debt, because that's just how he worked – and it had also occurred to me the many, many ways in which I could collect. But this was as delicate a situation as the last time: one wrong move, and any trust I might have gained would be lost, and I'd be back to square one (which would be bad).

But too much thought behind it brought up memories from before, and times much like this one, when he'd ended up at my door after a mission gone awry, covered in lacerations and bruises that he hadn't bothered to treat. Too much thought dredged up complications.

The same complications, in fact, that made me continue with our liaisons longer than I intended, and then vanish into the Toy Box project sooner than I'd planned on – thus ending said liaison abruptly. The base reason as to why I picked up and left so randomly was simply the fact that I was starting to wonder if I should leave. Even terrorists needed a holiday, and I was considering extending mine.

But the concept was ludicrous, and I chose a hasty and poorly-timed retreat almost immediately upon thinking of staying for any extended period.

Complications which, frankly, I didn't want to deal with at the moment.

No dwelling, then. Sounded like a plan. It would probably be a better idea if I didn't spend any time thinking about him.

Which proved hard to do, once his eyes snapped open, cloudy with medication, and fixed on me with a look that was really fucking hard not to dwell on.

"Morning, sunshine," I said smoothly.

"What…" his words were noticeably slurred. "What happened? Why do I feel… morphine," he realized slowly, answering his own question. "Why was I administered morphine?"

"You were in pain. Do you remember this morning at all?"

"I remember… Chidori. And a man – an operation. Someone came for her," he recalled hesitantly. "And I was… stabbed?"

"Not fatally, but isn't that just your luck."

"No extensive damage… just... morphine," he decided thickly. "That explains the drugged feeling."

"How do you feel?"

"Slow. My movements are unacceptably hindered; if an enemy were to engage, I wouldn't be able to defend myself or Miss Chidori," he decided, displeasure clearly written into his face. "How much morphine was I given?"

"Enough to keep you under until I'm satisfied that you won't rip my fine stitching job, which you'd better not do. So don't move, unless you want me to shoot you up with more."

"Stitch…" he began, hand falling to the bandages that encircled his stomach. "You gave me stitches?"

"Unless you'd have preferred Kaname to whip-stitch your stomach – and if you tear these up, I might let her do just that."

"When will the drugs wear off?"

"I don't plan on letting them wear off for at least another day," I said, trying to quell an amused smirk. Should have known he wouldn't like being drugged in the slightest. I couldn't blame him; I hated being under the illusion that something didn't hurt. Painkillers in any form or fashion were usually out of the question – pain was real, and the relief offered by morphine and other shit like that wasn't.

I'd have made a great cutter, if I'd bothered.

He tried to push himself up on his elbow, but I put a firm hand on his chest and pinned him down – if he hadn't been drugged into oblivion, his resistance might have been a little more noticeable, but as it was, he couldn't have fought back if he'd tried. "Down," I ordered. "Or didn't you believe me about the stitches?"

His skin was hot beneath my hand, most likely from a light fever. "I shouldn't be just lying here while everyone else is…" A hesitation. "Where is everyone else?"

"Out and about. Chidori is getting firewood, and your two teammates are clearing a livable area for the night. Mao says that the de Daanan is somewhere south of Korea, but can be here by morning. So we're waiting, and wisely avoiding the city. Any city, actually," I added thoughtfully. "It's the first smart thing I've seen them do all day; here's to hoping I don't jinx that."

"We're… where are we?"

"Oceanfront property, middle of nowhere. Weber just drove until he ran out of road, and we're fairly certain no one was following us… or, he's fairly certain, at least. Doesn't say much."

His eyes clouded further as his mind visibly drifted. "You assisted us back at the school."

"Really. I hadn't noticed." Given his random statement, I suspected he hadn't heard a single thing I'd said.

"Why would you help us?" he wondered. "We have no way of offering you nearly as much as MUSE was willing to offer…"

"You want to keep reminding me of that? Because I could change my mind really fast," I warned.

"You'll just do it anyways," he said hazily, trying to sit up again, and failing when I pushed him down onto his back.

"Would you stop trying to move? If you're determined to bust those stitches, I'll just do it for you. Jesus Christ."

"Why did you do it? We had the upper hand…"

"It amused me," I told him, cold humor clipping my tone. "If it had amused me at the time, I would have sold you out. Or I would have shot all of you and taken Chidori to the highest bidder. But at the time, it amused me to aide you, and it amuses me to continue aiding you. When it ceases to bring me personal satisfaction, I'll quit doing it. So as long as you keep me amused, my Kashim, I think your little group will be fine."

Color was flooding his face. "You mean it amuses you to leave us at the mercy of your moods."

"As far as I'm concerned, Kashim, you don't have much to worry about for a while – because this far, you've proven to be very amusing. You've always had a knack for that, actually…"

"That's in the past," he replied, doing his absolute best to sound as if he didn't care, and failing miserably. The thick slur to his tone didn't help any.

I was quiet for a long moment, palm flat on his chest. "Really? Because your heart is beating awfully fast, for something so far behind you."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't touch me," he said, voice clipped and official.

"Just making sure you don't try to move around too much," I assured him, and I could see his last nerve grate. Possibly the most amusing part of being abnormally rational was the way it absolutely drove him insane.

"You're a little warm," I added. "Probably a light fever… I expect your anxiety isn't helping much."

He glared at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "Any anxiety I might be experiencing is due entirely to the fact that the lives of my comrades and my charge currently rest in someone else's hands other than my own, made all the more dangerous by the fact that they are your hands, and your number one priority is yourself. That is the source of my anxiety, and I…"

I was completely ignoring him (or pretending to), busying myself instead with the bandages around his waist. Blood had begun to seep through – not a lot, but enough that it would dry and cake the gauze to the stitches, which would be very uncomfortable to remove if it wasn't changed out in time. I ran my hand down his stomach, to where the gauze was tied, and cut it with a pocket knife.

"What are you…" Shock resonated clearly in his voice now.

"You're going to need this changed," I explained, maddeningly patient. Frankly, I was starting to annoy myself with all this bullshit patience and rationale and so on. But I did manage to explain to him exactly what I was doing, without sounding like he was making me frustrated as hell. Who in the hell did a guy have to fuck in this place to get a break? Good Christ.

Kashim's eyes were closed tightly. "Just be quick about it," he finally conceded.

Quick I was, but it was hell to keep myself focused. Oh, get it the hell over with, I thought with annoyance. He obviously wasn't comfortable with the situation; every muscle in his body was tense, and I could see his hands tremble lightly. "Would you relax?" I snapped. "It's not like this is going to hurt worse than anything else that's happened, and I'm not going to kill you. Christ."

"I'm far from worried about that," he said smartly.

I sighed and put my hand on his stomach. "Then I don't think you have anything to worry about."

It was when my hand touched his skin that he tensed further, and my eyebrows rose as I watched him. It took all of three seconds to read Kashim's tragically unguarded face.

Aha.

"Or maybe," I suggested, assorted puzzle pieces clicking in my brain, "it really isn'tme killing you in your weakened state that you're worried about… why, Kashim, are you worried that I'm going to take advantage of you in your weakened state? I'm almost flattered."

He fixed me with a murderous glare, face reddening. "I wouldn't even imagine –"

"Don't get so worked up, Kashim, I'll do my best to be a gentleman," I chuckled, reaching across him and grabbing a bottle. I twisted the cap off, grinning with cruel amusement, and then unceremoniously dumped hydrogen peroxide directly over the stitching. He let out a yelp of surprise.

"What can I say," I confessed, utterly deadpan. "I'm a hopeless romantic."

Cloudy eyes glared at me, only half-aware that there was anything worth glaring over. I myself was basking in immense pride; looked like I had the upper hand after all. "One false move," he warned, "and I'll…"

"You'll what?" I chuckled. "Pass out? I'm positively terrified. Besides… don't you think it would be a bit more gratifying if you wanted it? Now sit up – slowly," I added. "Dry the stitches carefully, and then I'll put a bandage on it – unless you think you need your whole stomach wrapped again."

"A bandage will be sufficient," he decided, flinching a little as he tried to sit up.

I took hold of his shoulders gently and guided his tilting body. "Carefully, idiot," I said shortly. "Oh, yes, let's rip the fucking stitches, because I was kidding about letting that brat of a Whispered do them next time. It's a wonder you're not dead."

"No thanks to you," he shot back. It would have been more effective if he hadn't been borderline-stoned.

"I try."

As soon as he was upright, he shrugged me off sharply. "I'm perfectly capable, if you don't mind."

"I mind," I replied swiftly. "Now shut up."

He did as he was told, but the minute I'd pulled a clean, fresh bandage to place over the stitches, he snatched it from my hand and began to apply it with clumsy fingers. I watched in amusement as he wrestled with it – rarely did Kashim display any frustration, but his brain was still dulled my the morphine, and he just couldn't seem to make anything go his way.

I took the bandage from him with a long-suffering sigh, and again he looked ready to hit me. "Be still. I'd rather not punch you out to make sure this is done right, but I'm strangely comfortable with it, should the need arise. And if it should, I'll just leave you with your broken nose and other ailments."

If he'd been in a clearer state of mind, he would have hit me first. Or, in typical Kashim fashion, he would have taken the bandage back and refused any assistance.

But now his shoulders slumped, and he nodded – as if he were giving me permission to administer some life-threatening disease or something equally tragic. "Go on."

"Thank you."

Dull eyes flashed with annoyance, but that was it. As far as I could tell, he was lost deep in thought. And I could see a definite boundary in his eyes… the question was… just how far could I push him? Because few things in the world have ever proven as amusing as Kashim when backed into a corner.

Especially an unarmed corner that he wasn't a hundred percent opposed to.

It was with slow, deliberate hands that I rubbed a gooey antibacterial substance across the still-raw stitches, and even more deliberate hands that pressed what was basically an oversized band-aide over it. I placed my hands on either side of him and arched an eyebrow. "All better?"

He slumped, visibly drained – part exhaustion, part stress, part morphine. "Do Mao and Weber have Chidori within range?"

"I'm assuming that if she's not here irritating me, then she must be with them."

"I shouldn't… close my eyes," he decided, even as his lids remained firmly down. "I need to remain alert in case of an attack."

"Because your team needs a drugged, injured liability on the battlefield. Yes, Kashim, by all means stay awake."

"All right."

I rolled my eyes. "Bright as usual. Go the fuck to sleep – unless you'd like me to jack you up with more painkillers?"

His eyes snapped open. "No more drugs –"

"I wasn't serious, idiot," I told him shortly. "Now shut up and lay down, would –"

To his credit, I didn't know he was considering it until I caught him halfway – a solid right hook aimed at my head. Broken bones were avoided only because I caught his fist in midair, gripping tightly and seeing him flinch with detached satisfaction.

"Better watch where you're throwing punches," I warned, yanking him down unmercifully and glaring directly into hazy, angry eyes. "Not just because it would have broken your fist – titanium, idiot – but I'm not fond of getting punched in the head. That kind of unnecessary violence doesn't amuse me, Kashim, and it would do you well," I said softly, barely an inch from his face, "to remember that."

Too close.

Almost closer. Just half a step, one light tug on his arm –

Hell fucking ass no.

And Kashim? I was going to pretend, for now, that the reason his eyes were closing slowly was because he was passing out, and that said reason also explained why he was considerably closer to me than he was three seconds ago – or two, or even –

The illusion of contact was fleeting – never-ending, but fleeting at the same time – and then I was forcing him down onto his back. I did value my life, and illusion or not, anything real and tangible would most likely land me with a bullet somewhere vital when I wasn't looking, the absolute minute he woke up with a clear head.

I stepped away from him and maneuvered out of the van, offering him the most chilling smile I possessed. "Sweet dreams, Kashim," I told him.

"You're a bastard," he said thickly, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"You don't say."

"For all of it," he informed me. "Everything in Helmajistan."

Ah, the ramblings of someone trying to stay awake. "Sleep tight." Again, words laced with poison.

"For everything in Hong Kong," he added, voice fading.

"I told you, you'd regret not shooting me one day."

"I don't."

And suddenly, a morphine addiction wasn't sounding so bad after all.

This could most definitely be used to my advantage.