A/N: Back at it again, Back on that Fanfiction writing life. Whoohoo?

Enjoy?

Summary: It seems inevitable, looking back on it, that it would end that way

Smoke, it trails from the tip of his cigarette slowly, obscuring the air of the room. The only light in the area is behind him, and it makes the cloudy air appear like dusk. About as cloudy as his mind is, about as confused.

Shizuo closes his eyes and lets out a soft groan. The nicotine isn't helping, he should have known it wouldn't do shit. There's a reason he smokes when he needs to calm down, he doesn't usually fall back on said vice when he's uncertain about something.

Uneasy, more like it.

Of course, there's a reason why he's up in the middle of the night, stuck at his kitchen table, staring blankly at nothing. Normally, Shizuo is already in bed, he doesn't like deviating from that pattern. But the blood still on his knuckles and the bruise on the side of his head are already reason enough for his schedule to be upset so it's not as if this wouldn't be happening regardless.

God, it's all so fucked…

His vest and bowtie lie forgotten on the back of his couch. There's blood on the black material, just as there's crimson on his white shirt, which he's got opened to the third button. At some point, he should have changed, but Shizuo hasn't exactly moved since he got home so it's not as if he'd given himself much of an opportunity.

Why the fuck did I do that? His fingers tighten around his cigarette and he growls, but he's too exhausted both mentally and emotionally to really do anything with that potential anger. For all intents and purposes, Shizuo isn't even angry, but he is hopelessly confused with his own actions. There were things that he'd done that day that didn't fit any of his own set behavioral patterns.

It's enough to give him a headache.

He can still see it, the tail end of a fur-trimmed coat and the glowing smirk that hadn't quite reached the man's carmine eyes. Shizuo had been dancing the same tired old dance as always, tearing after Izaya with all the wrath of heaven. There had been the Raven before him, dodging, ducking and weaving with all the grace Shizuo would never have. It had been a day like any other.

So why hadn't it stayed a day like any other. Why had it all gone to shit so fast?

And why in god's name is he still up in the middle of the night thinking about it?

Everything had been going fine -insofar as Izaya's and Shizuo's fights could be called fine- until the windowless van had appeared. Then it had all happened so fast. The people, Izaya, the way those stony faces had grabbed him and yanked him inside without a second's hesitation.

Yet that isn't what has Shizuo upset. To be honest, Izaya getting dragged away by mysterious people for mysterious reasons sounds quite normal.

What hadn't been normal had been his reaction.

Shizuo finally manages to snap his cigarette in half. Usually, he'd have been closer to the man but their fight had been winding up and Izaya had been getting farther away and damnit, he hadn't even had time to think.

Shizuo shouldn't care at all! He has no reason to worry and yet his stomach keeps turning and the tobacco filled air isn't helping. Hell, he should be happy about what happened but he isn't.

The only thing he seems to be able to think is that if he'd just been a little closer…

But he hadn't been closer, had he?

He'd watched as Izaya's eyes had grown wide, and then that spark of fear had flown across his face and Shizuo had lunged forward, needing to stop what was happening. Men with stony expressions had swarmed Izaya, before Shizuo had been on them, the street sign in his hand flying as he'd tried to get them away from Izaya.

But it hadn't worked.

Groaning, Shizuo drops the ruined cigarette into the ashtray, his eyes shadowed and his mouth turned down in a frown. Fisting a hand in his hair, he stares at the table and wishes the whole afternoon had been in his head, but it had been all too real. And now he's regretting it, as if it had been his fault.

You can only lay waste to so many people before they start getting away, and that's exactly what they'd done.

After a certain point, the rest is nothing but quick, vivid images that flash through his mind. The bag being roughly shoved over Izaya's head. The armed men who had swarmed him, cutting off his path to the Raven. The stars before his eyes as something heavy connected with the side of his head.

The bodies that had piled up around him.

And yet… Shizuo had still been forced to watch the van pull away from the curb, leaving him without an Izaya and without an explanation.

If he's honest with himself, half of the consternation building up in his system is coming from the fact the strange situation had registered at all. I could have just stood back and let them do what the fuck they wanted. It's not like I care… Absently, Shizuo palms his pants' pocket for the carton of cigarettes, only to remember that he'd just snapped his last one in half.

"I should sleep," he mutters to the empty room.

From somewhere off to his left, there's a faint, yet clear sound of the deadbolt of his front door sliding clear.

Instincts kicking in before his brain can, Shizuo jolts out of his chair. Crossing his small apartment in the blink of an eye, the man only realizes who is creeping through his door after he's got a familiar, slim throat pinned against the wall. Carmine eyes meet his, and the only thing the blond registers is the dead look deep within them.

But his head catches up with his body a moment later, and Shizuo summons his usual anger from somewhere within the miasma of exhaustion.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Toes brushing the floor, scrabbling slightly in an effort to ease the crushing pressure on his throat, Izaya doesn't answer, he simply lets out a slightly pained gasp as the larger man twitches his fingers tighter.

Attempting to feed the flames of rage with his earlier confusion, the blond grits his teeth in a snarl before roughly shaking the flea, as though it would help. "It's the middle of the fucking night," he snaps, as though either of them need to be told this. "What the hell do you want?"

Unexpectedly, Izaya lifts one of his hands. For a moment, Shizuo starts to jerk back, understandably anticipating a blade. But then he sees the bottle of alcohol, and once it clicks in his head, he can smell the sharp, acrid stench on Izaya's breath.

"I-" the Raven attempts, still fighting to regain his footing. "I just thought-" The rest of his words are nothing but a shallow weeze.

Normally, Shizuo would be using this opportunity to finish off the devilish Louse while he had the man so completely at his mercy. It would be easy too, all it would take was contracting his fingers and snapping the other's neck. Almost like he needs to prove this to himself, the blond's hand twitches again, and the skin of Izaya's throat gives easily, his windpipe creaking under the pressure.

But when the Raven doesn't resist, Shizuo's insides flip as uncertainty swamps whatever small ounce of anger he'd dredged up.

Shitty Flea, he's supposed to fight back. Why isn't he-

And then it hits him. The image of Izaya getting shoved into a van, a sack over his head.

Instantly, Shizuo jerks his hand back, like he's been burned. Without anything to support him, the Raven sags against the door, catching himself on the knob before he has a chance to slip to the ground. For a moment, he just stands there, staring at the floor, then he lets out a rough, hacking cough and struggles to straighten up.

"I don't want you here," Shizuo spits. Just because he hasn't killed Izaya yet doesn't mean he wants the man in his house, shadowing his doorstep with his leering smile and red eyes.

"So rude, Shizu-chan," Izaya tuts, his blank expression contradicting the mocking tone of his words. "I came bearing gifts."

"You're drunk, Flea," the blond growls. "I don't need your shitty gifts."

"Ne, you were a bartender at one point." Pulling himself together slightly, Izaya tilts his head up to meet Shizuo's gaze. "Don't tell me you don't have a taste for a good drink."

Opening his mouth, ready and willing to tell Izaya that what he has a taste for is none of his goddamn business, Shizuo finds his voice dying on his lips. He looks lost, the blond realizes, wishing as he does so that Izaya wasn't so easy to read. Lost and alone.

The Raven of all people shouldn't look like that.

In the end, he's not exactly sure what pushes him to lock the front door behind Izaya instead of kicking the man out. It might have been concern, or it could have been curiosity. Deep down, Shizuo suspects it's because he's too tired to actually throw the other man anywhere.

Without another word, the unsteady Raven pushes himself away from the door and sways through Shizuo's apartment, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Fingers twitching for a cigarette, the Blond pushes any second thoughts he might have away. Regret is not something that mixes well with the bodyguard's mental state. He'd rather avoid it entirely if possible.

From across the room, there's a shuffling of cabinets as Izaya searches for something. Even drunk, there's a certain grace about him, the way pale fingers brush flightily over everything in Shizuo's kitchen in search of what he's looking for. As the man hums softly under his breath, his sleeve slips up, and Shizuo notes without surprise that there are rope welts imprinted into his wrist.

"The cups are next to the sink," the Blond mutters, unsure why he's giving into this so easily. Briefly, Izaya's eyes dart in his direction, and there's a quick nod, before the man successfully navigates the slightly damaged door of the aforementioned cupboard.

Unsure what else to do, Shizuo walks forward and lowers himself back into the chair he'd abandoned earlier. A moment later, the Raven joins him. Setting out the cups he'd retrieved, two plastic ones because Shizuo got tired of sweeping up broken glass, Izaya deftly reopens the bottle and tips dark liquid into both glasses.

Without looking at the Blond, Izaya swipes his cup, tips it back, and empties it in several, quick swallows.

After a second considering the possibility that he's being poisoned, Shizuo throws caution to the wind and takes a sip of his own drink. It tastes terrible. Bourbon was something you had to develop a taste for, and the ex-bartender certainly hadn't. Still, the night is already entirely bizarre, there's no reason to stop just because his drink isn't sweet enough for his tastes.

For some reason, he'd expected Izaya to start talking, but as the minutes tick by, slipping into hours before his very eyes, Shizuo realizes his assumptions were off. What's he still doing here? He wonders, glancing at the Raven when he's sure the man's attention is elsewhere. The fuck did he want in the first place? Did he really just want to drink?

His fingerprints are beginning to show up on Izaya's neck in the form of nicely defined bruises. But the other has yet to take revenge, so Shizuo certainly isn't going to bring it up.

It might have continued like that, drinking in utter silence, but eventually, they reach the bottom of the bottle. This is mostly Izaya's doing, Shizuo is still on his first glass and never really intended to drink more. Still, when he sees the Raven finishing his glass, he has the sense to down his own alcohol in a quick, entirely unrefined gulp.

As his eyes travel to the empty bottle, Shizuo almost asks Izaya to leave again, but he holds his tongue at the last second.

Damnit, what's going on?

Tapping a finger against the table, Izaya's eyes drift listlessly past the blond, like he isn't there at all. Which is fine by Shizuo, he's never liked Izaya's eyes. They're sinister, unflinching, and calculating. Right now, they're lifeless and dead. The contrast is unsettling.

"How much did you see earlier?"

The question catches him off guard, but Shizuo instantly knows what the man is talking about. It's not as if there's a wealth of things he could be talking about instead. Filled with a sudden yet fierce desire to demand answers, the blond physically bites his tongue to keep himself silent.

Unable to sum up all of the weird, incomprehensible emotions and reactions he holds towards the earlier incident, Shizuo lifts an absent hand to the lump on the side of his head before saying, "Too much."

"Ah, I am… Inclined to agree with you," Izaya mutters. The tapping of his nails against the wood of the table increases in speed, but the tempo becomes more erratic. "I'm sure you enjoyed watching it happen."

"No, not really." Shizuo's words are quiet, yet they echo in the space between them.

Teeth worrying absently at his bottom lip, the Raven is silent for a few minutes, his eyes tracing patterns in the woodgrain of Shizuo's table. Several times, the blond is convinced the man's hands twitch for the empty bottle, but much like him and his cigarettes, Izaya remembers a second later that there's no alcohol left, and his fingers still again.

Again, questions begin to bubble up at the back of the blond's head. He's too sober for this, he decides, looking distastefully at the bottle. Whatever else he can say about Izaya, the man had the right idea, getting drunk instead of thinking about all these uncomfortable things. Perhaps he should have helped drink the Bourbon, but it's too late now.

All he has to keep him company are his nagging thoughts.

Technically, he has the Raven, but in Shizuo's mind, that doesn't count.

Abruptly, Izaya's back stiffens and he says in a bitter voice, "If you hadn't been there, I would have seen them coming, you know? I wouldn't have-" Faltering, the man presses chapped lips together before continuing, in a more hushed tone, "I could have gotten away."

"So you're blaming me for this?"the blond growled, no real fire behind his words.

Face suddenly splitting into a slightly unhinged grin, Izaya savagely says, "I hope you hurt them, Shizu-chan. As a favor to me. I hope every one of them has broken bones that'll never heal." Clearly, he hadn't heard a word the blond said.

"I… broke a few heads," Shizuo admits uncomfortably, unwilling to admit how vicious he'd been at the time when he'd seen Izaya be dragged away.

Slowly, the grin on Izaya's face transforms into a faint, pleased smile, as though the news was exactly what he'd been looking for. Hating that look, but unsure what to do with the emotion, the blond puts a hole through the table with his stare, and hopes every single one of the men who'd dragged Izaya away meets a terrible end.

Somehow, he's sure that if karma doesn't get them, Izaya will. In some horribly creative yet grizzly way. Just as quickly as the thought occurs to him, however, Shizuo wonders if he's mistaken. The dead look that has sat in those carmine eyes all night doesn't speak of revenge. Not really.

Even if Izaya craves it, he doesn't seem like he's going to pursue it.

When it's clear the Raven isn't going to push the conversation any further, Shizuo steels himself and asks, "What happened, Izaya?" It's not enough to properly convey all the things he wants to ask, but a bottle of Bourbon is a flimsy excuse to go interrogating his enemy.

Eyes flying back open, the Raven's lips part, as though he's considering his answer, but a moment later they snap closed and he turns from Shizuo, instead choosing to stare at the clock mounted on the wall.

"You do a great many things in this line of work." The way he speaks is tentative. Shziuo almost interrupts and says That doesn't answer my question, but he stops himself a moment later. He definitely doesn't care, if Izaya wants to spout nonsense, that's his business. The blond has already overstepped his boundaries enough for one night.

Brushing black hair from his face, like he needs something to do with his hands, the man continues, "I've done quite a few things Shizu-chan, in my time as an informant."

When he doesn't continue, Shizuo's compelled to prod once more. "Like what?"

"Terrible things." Abruptly, red eyes turn on him, and Shizuo feels a chill run through him. "I've done what's required, no matter the cost. I've eliminated those in my way with precision." Clicking his tongue, the Raven continues, in a softer, emotionless voice, "I've rolled over and let others do what they want to me."

It's amazing how coherent he is, even though Shizuo knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man is a hair's breadth from passing out.

"Because, in the end, I'll come out with what I need, I have little trouble doing what has to be done. It's how the world works." Finally, Izaya's gaze drifts elsewhere, releasing Shizuo from its hold. "Sometimes, you get a choice in the matter. Other times, things catch up with you. Sometimes you can't get away."

It's terrible, how easily Shizuo understands what Izaya's telling him. There aren't any fancy words, any pretensions, it's just the shitty flea spilling out the contents of his heart like that's a fine thing to do. If the blond had been a little more self-conscious, he would have told the man to shut up ages ago.

"After a while, you learn not to care anymore." Izaya muses, as though the subject is simply curious. "You stop feeling anger, or pain, or shame. You stop feeling anything, really."

Biting his lip for another few, slow seconds, the Raven admits, "That's just it Shizu-o." The way he drags out the blond's proper name sounds awkward on his lips. "I don't care anymore."

Upper body slumping against Shizuo's kitchen table, Izaya's head falls into his hands, and all the blond can do is watch in a detached sort of horror as the man's shoulder's shake with weird, stilted laughter.

"I wish I could remember how, I'm sick of feeling empty."

"I can't help you with that," Shizuo says, at last cutting through Izaya's soliloquy.

"Ne, you're probably right."

Chuckling fading into stillness, the Raven just sits there, back hunched, hands obscuring his face. There's nothing left to say. Shizuo's had his questions answered far more thoroughly than he'd wanted them to be, and Izaya isn't moving. Drifting in the air between them, the silence thickens and descends like a fog.

Through it, all the blond focuses on is the slender nape of Izaya's neck, and the bruises he'd left there.

He's not sure when Izaya lurches to his feet and stumbles somewhat gracelessly to the front door. Turning to watch him go, Shizuo doesn't even bother to open his mouth. If he'd had words to keep the Raven here, he wouldn't have used them.

Better that Izaya leaves now.

Lifting a hand in farewell, the man pulls the bolt free and smoothly says, "Do excuse my intrusion, I shall not repeat it." Then he slips through the door and vanishes, leaving Shizuo alone once more, with an empty bottle on the table, and too many thoughts swirling through his head.

Maybe the blond would have believed Izaya's last statement, but the next night, he's back again.

Almost like it's inevitable.

A/N: Huh, well, I suppose I am still writing. How very strange. I hope this fandom still exists.