Title: Whispers

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #17 – "kHz (kilohertz)"

Rating: R (violence, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for the ending of the Platinum Arc.

Notes: Another limits-stretching theme...this one was rather tricky but I hope I did it justice. Split into two parts due to length.

Disclaimer: I own not the GBers. Pity.

Summary: Bad habits are hard to break. Particularly if they're Akabane's...

--

It starts as whispers, and ends in blood.

When Akabane wakes that morning he immediately knows something is off. He puts a hand to his forehead and winces slightly as he sits up in bed. There's the dull twinge of a budding headache that promises to make his day moderately uncomfortable at best. There is medicine in the bathroom cabinet he can take, but he doesn't bother with it as he sets about getting groomed and dressed. This isn't an average headache.

The craving is back.

It's been a while since his J's made their usual mark. Thanks to Midou-kun, he's learned to alter the depth of his cuts so that only the letter itself - without the regular spray of blood that accompanies it - mars the surface of an opponent's torso. If Akabane is particularly irritated, or an opponent is persistent, the J etches more visibly into the skin as a stern reminder for the lucky soul not to get in his way should their paths ever cross again. Since the inception of his new style he's only done this a handful of times. In most of his fights just the rending of clothes is sufficient enough warning.

However, word travels fast in the underworld. When news leaked out that the most feared hakobiya in the business was actually letting his quarry escape relatively unharmed, it was widely believed a rumor at first. But rumors being rumors take on lives of their own, and it wasn't long before belief and evidence conspired to bring Akabane a little extra business he wasn't expecting. The last several weeks have been busy what with all the glory-seekers, thinking he's gone soft or lost his touch, waiting impatiently in line to take their whack at the Jackal.

As he finishes arranging his hat on his head Akabane wonders what sort of marks might be made on the opposition he will doubtless run into on today's job. Most of them are too boring for his tastes, so he's had to find creative ways of keeping them alive while also getting his point across to them that he is not someone to be toyed with. At first this game was interesting in its own way; having been so used to killing opponents on the spot it's a different change of pace to fight them without the usual fatalities. But with new changes come new frustrations, one of which is currently attempting to drill its way through the base of his skull.

Akabane stands in front of the mirror inspecting his appearance, breathing slowly, deeply, so as to foster his usual calmness and try to stem the headache before it grows worse. He's been good, he thinks. Surely he deserves a little treat for the admirable self-restraint he's practiced lately. Not being Dr. Jackal is harder than it looks.

An image of Midou-kun's frowning face swims in his mind's eye. Bad idea.

Sibilance threads its way through his head, tightening the pain's grip with a subtle twist of the screw. The snake-master is no stranger to bloodshed, he will understand, it hisses reassuringly. Even if he is displeased at first he'll get over it eventually. He always does...

But Midou-kun promised to make things fun for him if he stayed faithful to his vow of abstinence. Thus far he has kept that promise. Should not Akabane also adhere to his as well? They are both professionals...

I will just make a little cut, he tells himself over the whispers' indignant grumbles. Nothing lethal, just a scratch...or two, here and there. Enough to satisfy...then it will be all right again. Soothed by that thought, Akabane lets his characteristic smile surface and feels more like himself again. Better.

He goes out to greet Midou-kun, who is having his breakfast on the couch. "Good morning."

His lover just grunts, still halfway through the limbo between sleep and full alertness. Midou-kun is not a morning person. Neither is Akabane, who prefers to sleep in more often than not, but if a job necessitates an early start, well, he makes the best of it anyway. He isn't offended by Midou-kun's less than articulate response, bending over slightly to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Do you have a job today?"

Midou-kun chews the wad of cereal he's been munching and swallows it. "Yeah." He lets loose what is literally a jaw-cracking yawn and Akabane idly wonders whether or not he'll wind up with arthritis later in life.

"I thought there must be a reason for you being up this early." He sits down alongside Midou-kun to await the truck horn which will summon him downstairs. Mr. No-Brakes is a most reliable driver when it comes to punctuality. Akabane happens to glance over at one point and catches a glimpse of Midou-kun's eyes, which are rimmed with redness and appear somewhat bloodshot.

Red. Such a pretty color. The color of blood...

No. Don't think about that.

Akabane looks away, focusing his gaze on the blue river in a picture hanging on the wall. "I suppose you didn't get much sleep last night," he offers.

Another grunt comes from the other man. "Should've remembered the Get Backers hadda job today," he mumbles between mouthfuls of his food. "Wouldn't have spent the night banging you."

An amused chuckle comes from Akabane. His smile broadens at the memory of the previous night and he leans over and nuzzles Midou-kun's jaw. "But you do it so well." This close he can smell his lover's delicious scent, an earthy sensuality tinged with a hint of leftover sweat from their activities last night. His eyes drop down and notice a trail of thin red lines peeking out from underneath Midou-kun's bathrobe at the point where his neck and shoulder meet. Bite marks, he realizes. Apparently during their tryst he'd gotten carried away in his lust and had bitten his lover hard enough to draw blood, though not much.

Yes. Yes.

Flavor imagined bursts upon his tongue and feeds the whispers which gorge upon those coppery memories. What did Midou-kun's blood taste like? Oh sweet, so sweet, the whispers hurry to agree.

Equally disturbed and titillated by those thoughts more than he cares to admit Akabane firmly steers his mind away from all topics involving blood and gives his imagination a picture of work to admire instead. Today's duty is a simple enough job but will require a certain degree of vigilance as a protection service has purportedly been hired to guard the item he will be transporting. Said service will undoubtedly be displeased upon learning of its transference without their permission. The potential of a fight is lurking and if the protectors are any good it will be a decidedly bloody one.

Drat it.

Akabane decides having a nibble before Mr. No-Brakes arrives will give him something to focus on. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, fixing a small sandwich for breakfast. When he goes to cut the bread he isn't watching where he's laying the knife – which is not one of his own – and accidentally nicks his index finger as he's slicing the bread. Though the glove has spared him most of the injury, a cut deep enough to summon blood is made and a few drops of red seep through it onto the countertop.

Akabane sighs and a slight wave of anticipation ripples through him. This is not going to be a good day, he can tell.

Midou-kun speaks up from the couch. "Something wrong, Jackal?"

Akabane takes a damp cloth from its place by the sink and wipes up the blood spots. "It's nothing." He peels off the ruined glove and rinses his cut finger before draping the cloth back in its place.

"Didn't sound like nothing."

He comes back over to Midou-kun, drying his finger with a paper towel. "I nicked myself. It's nothing serious." Akabane smiles playfully at him and offers his hand. "Would you like to kiss it anyway and make it all better?"

Midou-kun snorts, but takes his hand and dutifully places his lips on the injury. The next thing Akabane knows his finger is being sucked into the other's mouth and a pair of blue eyes is daring him to push things to the next level. Being fashionably late amuses them both and it's a game sometimes to see how long they can dawdle before habitual tardiness borders on straight out rudeness.

The taunting pull of Midou-kun's warm, wet mouth on his finger sends a pleasant shiver down his arm, but it has an unintended effect as well: his darker desires, roused already by fresh blood, purr quietly in his ear as Midou-kun's tongue strokes over the tiny cut. Taste the sweetness, snake-master, draw its succulence out with your venom, the rhythm seems to murmur. Akabane is temporarily mesmerized by the sight of that pink serpent lapping over the wound, flicking away the small ooze of red that reappears each time it pulls away –

Downstairs the curt tap of a semi-truck's horn interrupts the spell. Thank goodness for Maguruma.

Akabane yanks his finger away from Midou-kun and quickly stoops to give him a kiss goodbye. "I have to go now. Will I see you later tonight?"

Midou-kun is looking at him in an almost suspicious manner, but maybe it's just his imagination because the glance doesn't last but a second and then those blue eyes are back to their normal just-woken stupor. "Depends. It's supposed to be an easy job, but you know Hevn's definition of easy."

Akabane smiles at that. "I'm sure Hevn-san means well. Tell her hello for me then, and I hope you and Ginji-kun have a good day." He leans in for another quick kiss.

Midou-kun obliges and squeezes his shoulder for a moment, and when he says "You too, Jackal," Akabane knows he doesn't mean the usual pleasantries this time, he means behave yourself and don't kill anybody today.

He looks at Midou-kun, hoping that the answer reflected in his own gaze will be understood: I will try. And he will, because he is a professional and professionals such as him are always men of their word.

Before leaving the apartment he pauses, first to bandage his finger and retrieve a replacement glove for the one that was damaged, then to wrap his uneaten sandwich in some plastic wrap and tuck it into his coat pocket. He'll eat it on the trip.

Outside it's overcast. For once the weather forecasters are spot on in their predictions of threatening rain. Ignoring the nip of pain in his forehead Akabane glances up at the gunmetal grey sky and hears the twisted sibilance cycling inside once more.

"It's one of those days," he says to Maguruma by way of greeting as he climbs into the passenger side of the truck.

Maguruma just grunts in response as he shifts into drive. They've worked with each other long enough to figure out that certain things are just better off not discussed in detail, though Gouzou does take pity on Akabane by flipping on the radio dial. They settle themselves in their respective places as noisy classic rock music fills the cab.

The wails of guitars and drums come close but not quite in drowning out the whispers.

--

"She's onto you, you know."

Akabane raises a brow in silent request for an elaboration on that statement. The drive so far has been uneventful so to pass the time they've turned to idle chatter to amuse themselves. Maguruma is a decent conversationalist and most people that don't know him would probably be surprised to learn that he is quite well-versed in many subjects. For all his rough appearance the man is as multifaceted as a gem given that he drives a truck for a living.

Gouzou almost smirks at him. "You know what I'm talking about. Lady Poison."

"What about her?"

"She's not blind, Akabane. She's aware of your shadowing her all the time."

"Mm."

"What I'd like to know is, how's that gonna sit with your boyfriend? You know they've got a history, right?"

Akabane looks at him. "How did you know?"

"Overheard somebody at that café mention something about it once. I didn't get the whole story but I gather it's something to do with them growing up together."

Akabane nods. Despite their penchant for bickering Midou-kun is very much the proprietary older brother towards Himiko-san, whom Akabane also has grown quite fond of. But not in the manner that Maguruma seems to be implying, and he hastens to set the record straight. "Midou-kun isn't worried. He knows I will continue to keep watch over Lady Poison's back when we are on duty."

"Ahh."

"Whatever made you think other dimensions existed between us?" With his headache silently ratcheting up the pain every other mile Akabane is not really in the mood for lengthy discussions, least of all ones that involve things he'd rather keep private, but he is genuinely curious.

It isn't the first time someone has implied a closer than usual relationship between himself and Himiko-san. They work together so often; perhaps because he tends to linger in the shadows when he's not fighting and allow her to do most of the talking while they are dealing with others, people assume that he is some sort of attendant to her. In a sense this is true – they are work partners and that is what partners do on a job, guard each other's back.

But there is another element to it. It's not something Akabane fully understands, much less is able to explain. He has no idea where it even came from or when it surfaced. Something in him is telling him to stay alert whenever Himiko-san is nearby. It's not that she can't defend herself – she is a most able fighter even though she cannot match him in speed or prowess – but all just the same he has decided to take these intuitions seriously, especially in regards to that peculiar curse she carries.

"Besides. She is too young for me, you know that," he quietly chides Maguruma.

The big man shrugs. "My sister eloped when she was sixteen."

Akabane makes a tsking sound. "Himiko-san is a lady. A professional," he stresses ever so slightly.

"So are we," Maguruma says, his gaze shifting into narrowed focus as he spots something ahead on the road. "Looks like it's time to put the pedal to the metal. I love busting up the opposition's roadblocks."

The truck's speed increases and as the engine growls with lust for the road it's eating up so too do the whispers in Akabane's head gurgle with a dark glee. Part of him wants to say to Gouzou no, let's stop and have a bit of fun first, and he knows that the other man would obligingly – if reluctantly - halt the truck without question, but Maguruma is obviously having fun himself and being sympathetic to such enjoyment of work Akabane has no wish to ruin anyone else's amusement, even if he isn't particularly interested in it himself.

And, he tells himself, temptation avoided is better than temptation accepted. At least, that is what someone he once knew would have said.

The whispers are not pleased. They flutter in his chest like ragged moths, demanding to know why he won't indulge when the offering is right there for the taking. Akabane wills them into stillness by taking his eyes off the road and staring at the GPS system console of Maguruma's truck, trying to mentally recite the details of their trip itinerary for idle refreshment.

When the semi rams through the surprised protection service's roadblock he tries very hard not to wonder if there was anyone inside the vehicles, tries to prevent himself from imagining all the blood, the ruptured organs and crushed bones and snapped ligaments that might result from such an impact. Akabane compresses his lips together tightly as a spike of pain stabs behind his right eye.

Maybe he ought to have taken some of that medication this morning after all.

So easy. You could have drunk your fill of death and you passed up such a golden opportunity.

Deep, slow breaths. In. Out. Think of Midou-kun. Won't he be pleased when he asks how Akabane's day went and Akabane is able to tell him yes, Midou-kun, I was good, we met with the protection service but I didn't kill or fight them? That's got to be worth a little extra pampering right there...

"Hello! What have we here?" he hears Maguruma say. Akabane looks to the rearview mirror on his side. The protection service has given chase – evidently they were not in any of the ruined vehicles. They are obviously upset by the transporters' resistance: the open windows of the car pulling up close are bristling with machine guns.

"I'll take care of this," Akabane assures Maguruma.

He presses the button lowering the window and cautiously peers outside. The man riding shotgun jerks the tip of his weapon at Akabane in a manner that clearly orders pull over now. To emphasize this point a warning shot is fired from one of the other guns, putting a quick burst of bullets over the top of the semi's trailer.

"I'm sorry," Akabane calls to the lead man. "We cannot do that."

The gunman's scowl deepens. He fixes his sights on Akabane's head and motions again with his other hand for the truck to stop. Last warning, the gesture says.

Oh, it will be your last warning. Akabane shoves that thought to the back of his mind and looks at Maguruma. "They're going to shoot if we don't pull over."

"What do you want to do, Jackal?" Maguruma's tone is noncommittal – he'll go along with whatever his fellow transporters direct; he's just there to drive the vehicle.

What I've always done, it's on the tip of Akabane's tongue to say, but he bites down on his lower lip before the words can exit his mouth. Midou-kun. Remember Midou-kun and his promise. Something inside him hisses and squirms restlessly in the wake of his indecision. "Can you outrun them?" he says after a moment's thought.

Gouzou laughs, a hearty sound that fills the cab with peculiar warmth. "Can I outrun 'em? Buckle your belt, Jackal."

Akabane looks back out the window – a sharp twist of pain slicing down the back of his neck as he does so; petty vengeance exacted in angry response to his denial – and sees the triggerman and his team aiming their weapons. It's a familiar sight given the nature of his work and it's almost always a prelude to further violence, which sets his blood simmering with a taut expectation. He edges back into his seat and obeys Maguruma's seatbelt edict.

The truck's gears crank down a notch, as if Maguruma is preparing to carry out the protection service's demand. Then abruptly the engine rumbles and Gouzou's changing shifts nearly as swiftly and easily as Akabane produces knives, and the semi rockets forward onto the stretch of highway.

Machine guns clatter in the distance. Most of the bullets ping off of the trailer but a few zip past the cab, and one bounces off the door of the passenger side. Akabane adjusts his position in the seat, partly out of a healthy concern for his own safety regarding ricocheting bullets but mainly because the hiss of gunfire coincides with that of the inner hiss for blood and makes him eager for action. Akabane cares nothing for guns – indeed, he believes they are crude and inelegant weapons at best, even if they are efficient – but the hailstorm they are capable of producing tends to generate a lot of blood, and blood is what he craves.

His temples throb and he lifts a gloved hand to rub at one, but aside from this shows no outward expression of his ailing. He is a professional. He has weathered far worse than this before. He will get through this day as well. Perhaps he will even joke about it with Midou-kun. There, that's better. Midou-kun. Midou-kun makes him laugh and amuses him with his wicked sense of humor and colorful expressions –

Gunfire interrupts Akabane's thoughts. The protection service has caught up with them again.

"Persistent little bastards, aren't they?" Maguruma says wryly.

"They're only doing their jobs. They are professionals too," Akabane gently reminds him.

"Yeah, well they can do it a little less efficiently. Betty doesn't like it when she gets shot at," Gouzou says, affectionately caressing the steering wheel. He maneuvers closer inside the inner lane, keeping his side of the truck protected by the mountains so that the protection service people can't disable their prey's driver in their bid to stop the vehicle. This doesn't give them much room to jockey around, however, but at least it keeps the attack focused on one area, which is easier to deal with.

Another car comes screaming down the lane and pulls even with Akabane's side. A burst of gunfire would have caused the passenger side window to cave in if it hadn't already been open. As it is, Akabane feels the hot kiss of lead barely brushing past his cheek when the bullets lodge themselves in the truck's padded interior.

"Sons of bitches! Hold on, Jackal!" Maguruma floors the gas pedal and the truck surges ahead, the protection service not far behind. Persistent, indeed. Akabane hesitates, somewhat shakily raises his fingertips to the side of his face, certain that the dampness he feels trickling down his skin will have a distinctly red shade to it. He's relieved when the glove comes away still retaining its pristine whiteness, albeit slightly moist. Just sweat.

Which mixes ever so nicely with blood –

Akabane squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. The pulsing in his forehead clenches.

Clearly something has to be done here before things get any worse. He opens his eyes and looks at Maguruma. "The next time they catch up to us, let them stay level with you," he explains as he unfastens his seatbelt. "I'll put a stop to their behavior."

Gouzou nods, tracking their enemies' progress with one eye on his mirrors and the other fixated on the road he's navigating. When the protection service has regrouped their charge he notifies Akabane. "Two cars, coming up fast."

Akabane watches the attackers close in. Just as the lead man is about to give the signal to fire he leans halfway out of the window, one hand clasping his hat in place, and casts his other arm at the first car. Four scalpels eject from his hand at the same speed and with the same force as bullets. They puncture each tire and the imbalance sends the car screeching across the asphalt as its driver tries to regain control. The second car is forced to fall back lest the two collide, but not for long. Driver number one skids off the side of the road and smashes into the guardrail, clearing the path for Two to come barreling alongside the truck.

Four more scalpels produce similar results. Akabane sits back in his seat, adjusting his hat and tucking his windswept hair back behind one ear. "Are there any more?"

"Could be. I know I saw at least three cars back there by the roadblock," Maguruma replies. He hasn't eased any on the gas pedal.

"Then the third probably isn't lagging. Do you have any aspirin in here, by any chance?"

"Glove compartment in front of you. Bottled water's in the cooler, back of the cab."

"Thank you."

Akabane searches out the water first, getting up from his seat and retrieving a chilled beverage. He sits back down and tucks it between his legs momentarily while fetching the aspirin from the glove compartment. The cap of the medicine bottle twists off neatly and he automatically tips two tablets into his palm; after a few seconds of thought he adds two more. Just in case. Akabane pops the pills into his mouth – their acidic flavor gives him something else besides the hissing thoughts in his mind to focus on – and puts the lid back on the bottle before returning it to its cubby. As he's opening his water he has an inspiration, and crunches down on the aspirin, breaking them up.

Now he'll have a fresh distraction to drive him up the wall. But better that than risk his lover's ire…

...but he likes blood too...!

Akabane tips the bottle to his lips and washes the revolting mash down his throat with a generous swallow. He recaps it and places it in a cup-holder on the dash. "Anything yet?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. I thought that the Kanzakis were higher-rated than that."

"Eh, you can't trust whatever comes out of Markus's mouth these days. He'll tell you one thing and it ends up being completely different."

Secretly Akabane is pleased by this information. He hopes that this is the last they'll see of the infamous protection service. But when his senses detect a blood trail, they're seldom wrong in their tracking...

Maguruma looks up at the sky, which has darkened to a sullen blue-grey. "Gonna storm soon," he says.

Akabane studies the heavy clouds. He can taste bitterness that's more blood-based than aspirin-flavored. A few minutes later a jagged bolt of lightning splits the sky apart. Its cleaving coincides with the return of his migraine, which vacillates between virulent hissing and buzzing whispers, occasionally punctuated with a slightly louder growl or two.

"Yes, it is," he replies softly.

--

Afternoon comes and with it, the storm bursts open over everything as if punishing the world for some unnamed sin. The downpour makes it increasingly difficult for Maguruma to drive in spite of his vehicular mastery, so they decide to stop for lunch at a small restaurant off of the main highway. Maguruma makes sure to park where the truck won't be spotted by unwelcome visitors, yet they'll still be able to keep an eye on it from their vantage point inside the building.

Akabane retrieves the bottle of aspirin from the glove compartment once more. The ache that feels as if it's warping the entire contents of his head into a pretzel tells him he's going to need it again shortly.

The restaurant is dingy-looking but clean enough. The clientele, what there are of them, are composed mostly of similar travelers, truckers who were caught unawares by the bad weather and decided to wait out the storm. They choose a spot that keeps their backs protected, where they can look out the window and see Maguruma's truck. An older waitress arrives to bring them water glasses and take their orders and when she leaves Akabane brings out the aspirin bottle from his coat pocket. He opens it and tips two more tablets into his hand. "You need a better supply kit in your truck," he tells Gouzou solicitously after washing the pills down with water.

"Didn't figure you for the type to get sick often," the other man says. He glances around the room. It's not crowded but there are a few people milling about some of the nearer tables. Quietly, so as not to have anyone overhear their conversation, he says, "You okay there? You look a little green around the gills."

Akabane pulls his hat down lower over his face. He feels at least as green but sees no need to let Maguruma know that. "I'm fine. How much longer?" he asks, changing the subject back to their mission.

"Couple hours, give or take a few side roads. And whether or not we run into any more interruptions from our friends."

Akabane closes his eyes against the drumbeat pounding in his skull. A couple of hours. He can hold out that long, surely. He's come this far without spilling any blood...

...but there is still another half of the day to go...

Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun... It's become a lifeline, a soothing repetition to invoke whenever temptation threatens. He lifts both hands to delicately massage the sides of his temples in a vain attempt to dispel some of the discomfort.

Sensing how miserable he's feeling right now Maguruma attempts to offer comfort. "Maybe it would just be better if you knocked out a few J's, blow off some steam...you know?"

Oh, bless the dear man for trying, really. But that's the absolute last thing he needs at this point if he's to remain faithful to his promise. Akabane opens his eyes and smiles reassuringly at him, though the corners of his mouth are tight with pain. "No. I don't want to be responsible for any further delays. We've lost enough time with this weather as it is."

Gouzou nods. "How long's it been anyway?"

Akabane has to think for a second. "About six months," he murmurs.

Gouzou whistles under his breath. "That long, eh? That's gotta be some sort of record for you, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Akabane says, shrugging.

"So what do you do when it gets bad like this?"

"Normally it isn't this bad." Akabane pauses, noting the way the raindrops bounce off the window in a rupture of liquid when they impact. "Perhaps it's the weather that's affecting it." But he knows that isn't the case. He's gone through periods of withdrawal before and been fine; the difference is in what prompts those withdrawals, and like any true hunter knows the call of blood is a force to be reckoned with.

A noisy cloudburst of rain preempts any further conversation and they sit silently for several minutes, watching the world outside drown. Akabane rests his head on his forearms and closes his eyes again. Not for the first time is he thankful for his hat, which blocks out most of the outer stimuli that aggravates his misery. Exposure to people and all their foibles for prolonged periods can sometimes make him feel as though his nerves are being rubbed raw by sandpaper. The games one must constantly engage in for the sake of appearances...

One of the reasons he enjoys being around the Get Backers so often is the dispensation with these ridiculous tactics. Whatever differences may lie between him and them at times, the Get Backers are always true to themselves and are likewise as honest with others. One never need worry about where that person stands with either Ginji-kun or Midou-kun: when the former says he cares about you he means it forever and if the latter doesn't like you he won't hesitate to volunteer his opinion through either fist or mouth, even if this bluntness is costly in the longer run. Even if he doesn't always understand or agree with it, one thing Akabane admires greatly is strength of character and these two are fairly overflowing with it. Seldom has he met such worthwhile and fascinating individuals.

Midou-kun especially understands this. Whereas Ginji-kun will happily offer up his heart on a plate to anyone who so much as looks sweetly at him, Midou-kun is far more wary about human interaction. Though they've rarely discussed such subjects, Akabane senses his lover is all too familiar with the darker aspects of humanity and can readily sympathize; in his own travels he's encountered plenty of that evidence – same shit, different day, as Midou-kun would tell him.

Midou-kun...I wish I were home with you right now instead of carrying out this dull job... Akabane impulsively decides that tomorrow will be a 'playing hooky' kind of day, one of relaxation where they will do nothing but lounge around in their pajamas, curled up together on the couch snacking on their favorite foods and watching old movies. Perhaps they could chat more in-depth about their shared experiences also, and make love a few times as well. Or maybe they could invite Ginji-kun over and spend the better part of the day playing on the battlefield. These thoughts cheer him and the pain actually recedes some.

The waitress arrives with their food. Maguruma wastes no time digging in. He's a big man and has a big appetite to match. Conversely, Akabane eats only what he has need for and observes a moderate diet in all culinary consumptions. But thanks to his indisposition he has very little appetite today, and so manages to finish only half of the soup he ordered.

Maguruma gets up from his seat, picking up the check as he goes. "I'll take care of this and we'll get going."

"All right. I'm going to see if there's a lavatory in this place and then I'll meet you outside."

Maguruma nods and leaves to pay the bill. Akabane wanders toward the back of the restaurant in search of washroom facilities. Halfway there he notices a little girl, about six or seven years old perhaps, struggling with the wrapper of a bandage. She's skinned her knee.

He stops and kneels by her table. "Would you like some help with that?"

She looks up at him and sniffles. She's a lovely child, big brown eyes like Ginji-kun's and straight dark hair braided into pigtails. "I fell down," she says in a wavering voice, pointing at her injury. It's not bleeding any more but the skin is abraded in a few places.

"That happens sometimes," Akabane replies gently. He offers his hand and the little girl gives him the bandage. He removes it from its wrapper and checks the wound before applying it. "Has it been cleaned off?"

"Mommy did that," the little girl says.

"Good. Hold still for just a moment, please..." She obediently holds a pose while Akabane carefully fixes the bandage to her knee. "There you go."

A voice speaks behind them. "What do we say, Aya-chan?"

The little girl looks up at her returning parent, and then smiles shyly at Akabane. "Thank you," she chirps.

He smiles back at her. "You're welcome."

As he rises the young mother also offers her thanks for his assistance. "You're very good with children. Are you a doctor?" she asks.

Akabane pauses. "One does not necessarily need to be a doctor to know how to treat a scraped knee," he says modestly.

Aya-chan's mother smiles. "That's true."

He catches her gaze wandering to his hands and though they're sheathed by his gloves he anticipates the question that will be a prelude to another; it's not the first time and it won't be the last that someone, usually of the feminine persuasion, has inquired about his marital status. Most of the time he patiently indulges the asker's curiosity, but a sudden jab of pain reminds him that now is not the time for chitchat. Besides, he is on duty. "I apologize for my hasty departure, but I must be going if I'm to make my delivery on schedule. Do take care in this frightful weather."

The young mother and her daughter thank him once more and bid him a pleasant trip, and Akabane sets off again on his original mission.

Unfortunately the restroom doesn't appear to be as tidy as the rest of the building, but he hadn't planned on using any of the facilities so it doesn't matter. Instead Akabane checks the room to be sure he's alone and then withdraws the aspirin and bottled water from his coat pocket. Eating aspirin like candy isn't the best thing perhaps, but adverse effects don't really concern him and at this point he needs all the support he can get. He opens the bottle and tips several more pills into his mouth, washing them down with several swallows of still-cool water.

His stomach doesn't take kindly to the addition of extra contents. A mild queasiness works in conjunction with the headache and creates a painful wave of dizziness which, while not seriously threatening, throws him off balance enough that he has to lean against the wall for a second to get his bearings. Akabane can't help shivering from the small chill coursing through him and frowning, grits his teeth. He will not make a fool of himself by being sick now.

He hears the door to the washroom swing open and a gravelly voice suddenly rasps near his ear. "Well, well, what have we here? I wondered when you'd get tired of your boyfriend and come looking for me."

Akabane stifles a sigh. That's the trouble with these kinds of highway stops; one never knows what sort of dregs one might run into at them. He takes a deep breath and calmly turns to face his would-be assailant with an icy smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. He's expecting me shortly, and he's very jealous." Sometimes playing along with them is an amusing way to defuse the situation – most of these types he's encountered expect him to react with angry defensiveness rather than coy humor.

Unfortunately luck is not with Akabane today as his pursuer is of the more persistent type. The brute grins and forces him back against the wall. His grubby hands reach for Akabane's waist and he bats ineffectually at them.

"Come on, pretty. It won't hurt – much." The tobacco-stained smile clearly communicates that the man will enjoy it all the more if it does.

"I said no thank you." Akabane tries to push the man away again but finds himself being roughly turned around and herded in the direction of one of the stalls. He struggles and pain explodes through his head in a starburst of color that momentarily blots out his vision.

"Be a good boy now and I won't have to hit you again," his attacker laughs as he forces his prey to bend over the toilet.

Akabane is not happy. The back of his head feels like it's been slammed by a hammer and fresh nausea is welling up in his stomach, and the whole room feels like he's been tossed onto some sort of demented carousel that's spinning at double time. He briefly considers emptying his lunch into the bowl before him, but another problem quickly catches his attention: the brute is attempting to remove the lower portion of his clothing.

One day, Midou-kun, I'm sure we'll both look back on this and laugh...but right now it's time to be serious.

Akabane abruptly goes limp in the man's hold. "Ahh, gonna relax and enjoy it, eh?" the man chuckles, shoving the length of trenchcoat out of his way as his fingers claw at the belt on Akabane's trousers. "Too bad. I was kinda hoping you'd fight me a little more – " He gags suddenly as Akabane's elbow buries itself in his gut.

The man falls backwards and Akabane moves lightning-quick, whipping around and driving the heel of his boot into his jaw. He hears the crack of teeth jarring together and a river of blood erupts from the man's mouth as he measures his length across the floor. Akabane gets up and the man does likewise, his face nearly as red as the blood that's streaming out of his mouth.

"You fucking little prick!" He charges Akabane like a bull driven mad by the banner of a challenge, but he proves to be no such for his opponent. The snick of emerging blades is too quiet to be heard amidst the stomping of boots, and it's only at the very last second that Akabane remembers to turn his knives to one side so that they etch only an outline of the letter instead of piercing it all the way through the torso.

Stunned by the surprise attack the bigger man falls back and looks down at his ripped shirt, at the bright red seeping through his skin and dribbling onto the tile. A terrible recognition dawns in his eyes and it's one that Akabane knows well – that heart-stopping moment of terror when an enemy realizes he's just made the unwanted acquaintance of the notorious Doctor Jackal.

Two pairs of eyes, one blackened by fear and the other a frigid purple, meet in the frozen stillness. Akabane takes a step forward, brandishing his scalpel-studded fist with lethal intent. He isn't smiling, and there's a flash of fang as he speaks. "Leave, before I finish the job," he hisses.

The assailant doesn't need to be told twice. Blubbering like a baby he scrambles out the door.

Akabane lets his knives recede and slumps against the wall. The nausea hits him full strength and he makes his own dash for the toilet again, having just enough presence of mind to pull his hair back from his face as he rids himself of the soup and aspirin he'd consumed earlier. There isn't much but what comes out burns his throat every inch of the way.

He shudders for several minutes, riding out the dry heaves that finish this vomiting spell, praying that he won't pass out from the agony drumming up a dance in his head. He hears heavy breathing and realizes he's speaking out loud. "Midou-kun...Midou-kun...Midou-kun..."

He'd wanted so badly to slice that filth into bloody slabs of meat...!

Then why didn't you, you fool? Not as if your lover wouldn't have understood. He's done similar if not worse things himself; he carries the blood-taint as well. Maybe you are getting daft in the head, Jackal...and you know what happens to those that are weak...

But I want...I want... "...I want to go home..." Akabane hears himself whisper softly. He hurts so much right now...

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool bowl. Oh, that feels nice. Smooth and chilling. He makes a mental note to ask Gouzou if he's got an icepack somewhere in that truck of his...

Gouzou. He'll be wondering what's happened to his partner. And Akabane had promised not to cause any further delays...

Damn it.

Akabane wills his breathing into a more controlled rhythm. He ignores the protesting of his aching body as he carefully gets up and forces the pain into its own separate compartment, folding and spindling it into a cramped corner and silently commanding it to remain there, out of his way. He is a professional, the very best at what he does. He will not be defeated in his mission – even if it is an unimpressive one like this.

He inspects his clothing for bloodstains. There are none. He removes his gloves, tucking them into an inside breast pocket of his coat, and goes to the sink. He rinses his face and then his mouth with water several times, all the while silently chanting both Midou-kun's and Ginji-kun's names like magical charms to ward off further ill fortune. He takes a paper towel and blots his face dry with it.

The towel is discarded in a wastebasket and the gloves go back on. Akabane tidies his rumpled clothing, which fortunately was not damaged by the over-amorous suitor. He checks his hat, tilts it on his head just so, and studies his reflection through the slit in the brim. Better.

He pockets the bottle of aspirin and the bottle of water, both still sitting on the sink, without making further use of either one. Mere aspirin will do him no good now, not with the migraine having escalated into a full-blown hurricane inside his head.

Akabane gives his reflection one last glance and leaves the restroom. No one in the restaurant appears visibly alarmed by his appearance, so the thug evidently escaped notice when he was fleeing.

Maguruma is waiting in the lobby. His eyebrow lifts somewhat as if he's going to ask the inevitable question and Akabane cuts him off with a terse, "Let's go," as he stalks outside to where the truck awaits.

--

Continue To Part 2