My shortest chap yet, except for the first. Practically to the end (Assuming anyone is still reading after the rereading I made you guys do last time - sorry again. Feel free to throw some flames; I probably deserve it).

Damned Idiots

It had taken Dazai a little longer than planned to sneak past the various mercenaries staged throughout the ship and successfully locate the hidden staff entrances of the cruise liner. Well, actually, the real time had been eaten up with his lock-picking.

The doors on this ship were better locked than most prisons. Something unexpected on a vacationer's cruise liner.

Which was too bad. Just when the agent was thinking sneaking onto a cruise and committing suicide wasn't such a bad idea.

Dazai lifted up an oak hatch, climbing the ladder in the wall of the top floor. The hatch deposited the bandaged agent onto the abandoned stage of the cruise ship's dining room. All part of Dazai's back-up plan, should Harper be too much for Frost to handle alone. Something that, as usual, was turning out to be a good idea. Of course, they weren't getting paid for this, but Kunikida had been unusually insistent. Atsushi wasn't sure if it was from Kunikida's inherent sense of justice or something else, but the brunette already had a suspicion.

So, perhaps this would be a worthwhile break from his suicide attempts. If only to finally get the ever-nagging Kunikida off his back.

In the abandoned dining room, Frost was doing a good job distracting the American Harper Lee. The southern brunette was so intent on her victim's despair that she didn't notice Dazai. Or the approaching footsteps out in the hallway.

The agent dodged behind the curtain as the footsteps grew louder.

Someone else had arrived. And, as expected, Dazai's ability wouldn't be needed after all.

Q did not value anything.

He hated himself. He loved himself.

Q was leaving his own ability behind. Wasn't that supposed to be enough?

The strange woman had conjured Q's other half. This other half was vicious. There was nothing given, and nothing taken. The two versions of Q knew each other so well that a physical fight was evenly matched. Q knew his ability too well to fall under Dogra Magra.

He hated the teen before him, who was willing to mutilate his own flesh just for control. Yet, he detested himself for running away.

There had to be an end to this!

"I don't want to hate you anymore!" Q shouted so loudly he could barely hear his own words.

"You hate yourself," the double cocked his head, raven locks falling into his eyes. "Everyone hates Q."

That was true. What was the point in arguing with himself anymore? What was the point in caring? Returning to that life – the one he was born into, the one he was meant for. The chaos, the death, the control. It was better than… this. Better than facing himself over and over and over again. Struggling against the demon that wanted that power back. Better than living a subdued life.

Ane-san wouldn't be happy.

The thought hit Q from out of nowhere. Like a voice murmuring at his ear. Those words reminding him of… something. Or someone.

Someone who had come for him. Who had supported him leaving the Mafia.

Ane-san had put everything on hold. For him.

Q had just pinned his double's body on the floor, small hands wrapped around a pale, scrawny neck identical to his own. Fingers tightening, choking the life from the imaginary child that was his double in every way.

Sapphire-gold eyes met, so close that Q could see the glimmer of enjoyment in the other's face. Perverse enjoyment in the idea of his worst enemy finally killing him – Being defeated by his other half. Each other's inner demon.

Unhappy to be gone from the world, but not wanting to leave it any other way.

Staring into those twinkling eyes, widened even as he gasped for air, Q finally came to a realization. Something he'd been too caught-up in himself to realize.

Ane-san wouldn't want either part of himself to die.

He wasn't alone.

Q let go of the thin skin in his grasp, staggering a step away from the mirror-image teen. The other, aside from the finger bruises on his neck, looked unharmed. The double wasn't gasping for air anymore, wasn't making any attempts to fight back.

And slowly, the double vanished. A small smile on the teen's face as he did. Something that looked foreign merely because it was so rare.

When Q turned his eyes to the rest of the room, he noticed he wasn't alone anymore.

Jo and Kunikida lying on the opposite side of the room. A dead woman in the middle, bits of matted brain and hair facing Q.

None of them were the person he was searching for.

There was something he still had to do.

Q continued running throughout the ship, heedless of the direction. He just kept going up, looking for someone he was beginning to doubt he'd ever find.

The di-chrome teen had just charged down another random hall when he heard screaming.

The sneakers were easy to run in, and soon, he found the source.

His ane-san was in the middle of a ballroom, crying, while another woman watched. Smiling.

It was a smile the teen recognized. One he used to wear when watching the suffering of his victims. Watching as they destroyed those around them, minds lost to the chaos of paranoia and aggression.

It made him want to curse this smiling woman. Let her experience the same suffering she wrought on so many of her victims. The suffering of his ane-san.

Only… Q was unarmed. He didn't have his Dogra Magra.

He could only watch, helpless, as the woman – Harper Lee – lifted a gun. Aiming it at ane-san.

"Let us continue this little dance in the afterlife, Roberta dear."

A gunshot rang out in the ballroom.

Frost came out of her nightmare with a jolt of pain. The feeling… despair. Loneliness. Hatred. It… it wasn't real. Not anymore.

"You little brat," a deep voice complained, even as her tone sounded more weary than irritated.

Frost blinked the tears from her eyes, the world coming into focus. Just in time to see the round barrel pointed straight at her head.

She jumped out of the way, just as another gunshot rang out. Frost jumped up, ice blades appearing in her hands, and spun towards the aggressor. Harper turned and aimed, ready to fire again. It took Frost a beat to realize Harper was the only enemy in the room. Her sword unnecessary as she waved a hand, freezing the gun mid-air.

The weapon fell to the floor with a thunk. Harper was still pissed, but Frost had quit caring. The ice she'd used spread beneath Harper's feet, encasing the woman in thick crystal.

Yet, the woman was still smiling. "You've already lost, Roberta."

She narrowed her eyes, unsure what she was talking about.

Then, Frost heard a gasp.

A wet gasp, as though trying to take in a breath of air. Something that was out of reach. That the little figure couldn't accommodate. Thanks to the growing pool of red beneath his body.

"Naoki," Frost choked, crashing down beside her nephew.

He'd been shot in the side, teenage hands doing their best to stop the blood flow. It wasn't working well, red spreading up around his dark t-shirt, skin going pale as the blood started flowing out.

Frost put her hand to his abdomen, beside his hand, using her ice to slow the wound. She had to be careful – too much cold and the blood-flow would stop altogether or start freezing the blood. Too little and the wound would keep bleeding.

The raven woman cooled the skin, taking her hand away before she cooled too much. Then, yanked off her t-shirt. Frost started ripping it to tie around his abdomen. Sitting there in nothing but a bra but too distracted to care.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she questioned, sharp eye on Q.

He grimaced as she tied off the wound. Dr. Yosano was there, right? They just had to get him to her. He'd be fine. Her nephew would be fine.

"I came to help."

"You've already done your part," she clarified, unable to keep the chill from her tone.

The teen didn't whine as she tied the wound off, trying to cool his skin again. Bloody fingers fell away to support his back, sapphire eyes fixed on the blood pool. Curious, but not too concerned.

Which was stupid. Weren't people supposed to care about being shot?

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Harper taunted, tone even. "I shot your own nephew. What kind of a coward are you?"

Frost didn't even hear her. Too intent on repairing her nephew. She hefted the teen in her arms with a single motion, barely noticing his weight. Q grimaced but didn't cry out as his wound pulled. Something Frost wasn't so much proud as concerned about since it was a pain tolerance they could probably 'thank' the Port Mafia for.

"Don't ever do that again," Frost chastised, boots tapping on the ballroom floor. Gun discarded behind her. The first time, if ever, she'd left a weapon behind.

"Only if ane-san does a better job protecting herself."

"If that's what it'll take, I'll wrap myself in bubble wrap."

"Why do you sound angry?"

Frost was about to snap at the kid to be quiet but decided keeping him talking was better than passing out. "I'm angry that no one in this damned family seems to have any sense of self-preservation."

The tall woman, reaching the glass wall looking out onto the cruise-ship balcony, kicked the deck door open with a bang. Enjoying the brief outlet for her pent-up energy on.

"Q learns from his elders," Q added, sweet voice softer than normal.

Frost stepped out into the sunshine. Looking for any signs of the Armed Detective Agency. Oblivious or uncaring of the blood that was slowly covering Frost's bare arms, soaking into her bra.

"I guess we're all a bunch of damned idiots."

Q is hard to write. I feel like I haven't done him justice, but... that's what I got. Let me know what you guys think - does he seem too OOC? Too easily evolved? Needs more explanation/scenes in prev chapters? PM or review if you want.

Thanks for reading!