Disclaimer: I own not the Weiss boys. Koyasu has those.

Summary: Aya's second POV chapter. It's getting angsty, I know... but keep reading!

Dedication: As always, to my lovely KenKen. Without you koi, I would never have survived. I love you forever dear.





The sunlight shines through a crack in my blinks, waking me up. My eyes open and I am met with the soft sight of Siberian sleeping next to me, his hair slightly ruffled, his cheeks pink with sleep. Instantly my mind is startled at the sight, quite different from my normal waking, drenched in sweat, the screaming inside my head leaving it dull and pounding. I quietly slip around him, allowing his fingers to grasp my forgotten pillow lightly. I stretch and walk down the hallway to the kitchen. There Manx is waiting for me; I'm the only one awake. She takes me down to the mission room, and I watch as she places the tape into the VCR, and I watch a fuzzed-out man come onto the screen. My mission: I was to track down a man who led a ring of undercover agents that infiltrated the local police stations, slowly killing them off and diminishing the police force. I nodded and walked away, going to the closet on the other side of the room to grab my assassin uniform. Throwing it on quickly, I head out the door, grabbing my katana on the way.
The morning wind bites cold against my cheek as I walk through pre-sunrised darkness. Swiftly I walk, intent on reaching my victim as soon as possible, so that I might return home soon. I pass by a tall silver building and stop; his office lies on the tenth floor. Finding a back door, I slip in, walking up the stairs as quietly as my boots allow. I find his office fast and unlock it using a bobby pin on my katana. I find him in a chair, turned away from me, talking on the phone with one of his servants. He hangs up and come up behind him, unsheathe my katana, and push it tightly to his neck. His strangled cries of protest make me pause; a mistake I should never make. He talks to me. Insults. Telling me I don't deserve life and all it's wonders. A killer like myself, he says, never deserves to love. He tells me I'm a sick bastard and I deserve to die. He tells me that whoever loves me is a fool. Instantly in my mind I see Siberian, his smiling face mocking me. I scream at him while digging the blade of my katana into his throat. I yell at him that he is not a fool. The man I love is not a fool at all.
Before the sharp blade severs his throat, he chokes out one more insult. He tells me I'll only hurt him in the end, and that my cold heart will shatter his in an instant. My face and hands are splattered with blood and I fall to the ground, sitting there. My blade falls next to me and I close my eyes. Distant voices ring in the back of my head. A child. A girl. Her laughter streams through my head as the scent of flowers reminds me of home. I whisper her name again and again. I'm sorry, I whisper, I'm so sorry. Although I became what I am because of her, I cannot help but feel this immense guilt upon my soul. I kill to pay her hospital bills. I kill for her sake. And yet... when she awakes... she won't even know me. I won't let her know me. I won't let her know the Ran she once knew has become a ruthless killer named after her. I just can't do it.
I open my eyes and realize that the sun has begun to set. I hurry to my feet and sneak out of the building. Thankfully no one came into the room of the murder I had committed. I slink through the shadows on the way back to the Koneko. The shudder is down over the front, so I know Bombay has closed to shop for the day. I find the back door and walk up the stairs, hearing the shower running. Neither Bombay nor Balinese are home; all the better. I drop my Katana off on my bed to polish later, and make my way to the shower. Three sharp knocks later, Siberian is standing there, a towel around his waist. Looking into his eyes I hear that damn voice again. The voice in the back of my head telling me I'm not allowed to love anyone. Before he can say a word, I push past him and close the door sharply. Stripping of the leather that binds my skin, I step into the shower and turn on the water, cursing loudly as the cold water hits me hard. I realize that Siberian must have been taking a shower for a long time and had taken all he hot water. I cringe and stand in the cold, my skin burning, then slowly turning numb and cold. Just like my heart.
Stepping out of the cold shower I throw on a towel and stride to my room. There I dress quickly in boxers and a shirt and sit on my bed, pulling my favorite book from my bedside table in an attempt to forget everything. I look up when I feel a presence at my doorway. There stands Siberian in flannel pajamas, almost shaking in his fright and anticipation. I put on my iciest glare, determined not to let my heart warm up to him. It can't. I can't allow it. I wouldn't be able to stand myself if I watched another person I love get hurt because of me. Instantly I think of my sister. Cold, lifeless, and in a coma. And now I kill to keep her alive. Dead, but alive. And now it is the reason I can't do what I really want to do. I wish I could stand up and take him in my arms and hold onto him tight. To feel the warmth of his skin, to feel his breath, his heartbeat against me. My cold body longed for his warmth. My iced over heart wanted his love so badly. And yet... I could not have it. I could not hurt him. I would just end up breaking his heart. A mission would go wrong and I would be dead. Or he would die. And that would hurt too much. I couldn't stand another person I love leaving this world without me.
Bringing myself back to the waking world, I watch Siberian's mouth as his lips move. He's asking me questions about where I've been and where Balinese is. I reply as coldly and brashly as I can, pushing him away from me with my voice. Finally, he asks me what I've been dreading. He asks me about the night before. I stay silent, trying to find a lie in my head. After moments of silence, he asks me if I really meant it when I told him I loved him. My heart screams at me yes. Yes, yes, YES! You LOVE him! TELL HIM IT'S TRUE! My mind kills that thought just like I killed that man mere hours ago. I sigh, my head falling back against the head rest. I can't take this pain anymore, I think inside my head. What's it all for any ways? I look at the boy standing in the doorway and am answered instantly. Him. Aya-chan. The people I love.
I spout off some shit about vulnerability that I couldn't get away from. I tell him what that man said to me. I can't love or be loved, because I have killed. I barely remember telling those words to someone before, someone not as important to me; Sakura. He argues with me, telling me he has killed also. Telling me we both have our wrongs and that we've both sinned. Silently I think to myself. You can be forgiven, my mind says to him. God can forgive you. Now he's yelling at me. He's yelling that I can love, and that I am allowed to be loved. And that I am loved, because he loves me. He loves me and can't ever let me go. Now he's going on about how he imagined me instead of that damn playboy when he was being fucked.
Oh, God, how I wanted to tell him I though of him too. When I touched myself, listening to them fuck, I would image it was him touching me. My body screamed at me to let him touch you, to let him inside of you. I wince with the pain it causes me inside to hear about him and Balinese fucking each other at night. It brings back the images I wished I could forget. Again he tells me he loves me and that he can't help it. My eyes, acting upon themselves, glare at him, my lips moving to the words I speak often. I tell him to get out. I turn back to my book and am only highly aware that he turns around and leaves. I sigh heavily and pound my head against the headboard. What have I done now? I've screwed it all up. Again.