Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

SPECIAL NOTE: I know you guys are all dying to know who he is!!!! I don't wanna keep you on the edge of your seat, but we have a few more things to go through before I get to that. I fact, I don't want to torture you, so my Pander Forever fic is being put off for this. Say, after you review this chapter, why not review Chapter 6 of Pander Forever? I sure could use some encouragement.

Oh yeah...I think you've pretty much narrowed down who he could be. In your review, tell me who you think it is:

1. Gas-O 2. Hamm 3. Heat 4. Hiro-kun 5. Strike

El Ritmo Frio

(Cold Beat)

Chapter 2: Waiting

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"You."

The words stung me. They were said as if I was a speck of dirt on the floor, or a piece of garbage on the street. Spoken as if to kill me.

"You."

I close eyes and try to imagine that I am not there, that I am far away, from this insanity.

I am dressed in my regular BAG2 outfit, my left arm in a sling. I still have a few bruises, but they have healed. My ribs do not hurt any longer, although the beating red heart enclosed inside them still does.

It has been four days since I first saw her, seemingly dead, lying in the coma ward. I still can't believe it.

The days and nights passed without meaning. All that was on my mind was her. I ate, slept, watched TV. But...it was a blur. Irami and the other doctors and nurses tried to cheer me up, but to no avail. All I thought of was her. I'm not obsessed...just very worried. And sorry. Sorry I ever invited Shorty to come with me to Paris. If she dies, I'll die too.

She was light.

I am well now. Well enough to be sent home. They gave me back my clothes, and my bag, which had been salvaged from the submerged plane. They told me there was nothing I could do, go home, we'll inform you if anything happens.

No. I'm staying. I will stay until she wakes. However long that may take.

Irami, the kindly young nurse, had pity on me. Or maybe it was just because of my looks and fame from dancing. She agreed to keep me in one of the spare patients' rooms while I waited for Shorty to awaken. I had promised not to interfere with the doctors' work, keeping myself in this room.

I had taken on the task of informing Columbo. I had dialed the number, and waited for the phone to ring. Finally, a squeaky little voice answered. I can still recall our conversation...

"Columbo? It's me."

"Huh? Where's Shorty? You were supposed to be home four days ago?"

"Yes, I know...I'm calling from the hospital."

"Hospital? Wha...What happened?!"

"There was a plane accident. I'm okay, but Shorty's..."

I sensed panic behind the receiver. Columbo's voice was tight. "No! That's not possible!"

"I-It is..."

A noise at the other end signaled that the mouse had dropped the phone. I could still hear him screaming: "Mr. Tomohura! Mrs. Tomohura! Shorty's at the hospital!"

Mr. and Mrs. Kentaro and Nyoko Tomohura. Shorty's parents. Who would always leave her alone. Who would never pay attention to her. Who didn't love her.

They were here. I had made the call only a few minutes ago, and they were already here.

I step outside the door of my temporary room and see them standing next to the nurses' desk. Mr. Tomohura was a tall, stately gentlemen, dressed in a business suit. Mrs. Tomohura was a lively, beautiful lady, clothed in a pink dress. Columbo sat on Mr. Tomohura's shoulder, wearing his usual red cap. They all appeared to be worried and anxious, talking to Irami about Shorty's condition.

Looking at them, I could see where Shorty got her chestnut hair and violet eyes. But she owed them nothing.

I quietly closed the door to the room and approached the desk. I could hear the last of Irami's conversation: "...seems someone else on the plane knew her. Oh, here he is..."

They turned to look at me. I could see their eyes filled with pain and sadness. For what? They didn't care about her. Only I cared about her. She belongs with ME.

Columbo, through the damp tears that soaked his fur, pointed his paw at me. "That's him! He was the one who convinced Shorty to go to Paris! It's his fault!"

"What?" Mrs. Tomohura asked, through her tear-stained handkerchief. In a flash, anger mixed in with the emotions on her face. She marched up to me and slapped me. Hard. So hard blood began to flow from my mouth. "You. You! How could you, you bastard?! How could you do this to my baby! I hate you!!" With this she broke into tears.

"I...I..."

Mr. Tomohura had also changed. "You're that garbage from the BAG2 Tournament," he said calmly, the anger shielded by his tone of voice. "I swear, I'll have you killed..."

"Please, sir, I didn't mean..."

"You killed Shorty!" Columbo squeaked.

With this, I broke. I had tried to be calm, tried to explain, but nothing was working. I had only tried to give Shorty what she needed most in her life-love. No love from her father. No love from her mother. Love from Columbo, but not enough to get her through. I love her.

"What kind of parents leave their child alone all the time?!?!" I demanded, my voice rising. I was so loud probably the whole hospital could hear me. But I didn't care. The world should know the truth. That these horrible people who were her parents were now crying over her, sad that their little puppet was gone.

"You left her all alone in that mansion with no one but Columbo!! She may have been rich, but she wasn't happy! She had no friends, dancing was her only hobby!! Almost no one loved her. Except Columbo, but she needed more than that love! She came to me, I invited her to Paris, we had a good time, and I LOVED her."

Mr. and Mrs. Tomohura were silent, their tears dripping down their cheeks. Everyone on the coma ward, it seemed, had stopped their work and were looking at me. This piece of garbage from BAG. The one who was angry.

After what seemed like eternity, my dark-circled eyes scanning Shorty's parents, Mrs. Tomohura took her handkerchief away from her nose. Her eyes drifted to the floor. "You're right," she said slowly. "We neglected her. We tried to give her everything, but we couldn't get the loving part right."

Mr. Tomohura placed his hand on her shoulder. "We never realized," he whispered, "that she needed all that love, I guess. We thought Columbo would be able to provide her with all the love she wanted, but we were wrong."

Columbo sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Why do you love her like you do?" he asked me. A rather awkward question.

"I don't know," I answered, my eyes filling with water. Quite a sight to see. A popular diplomat and a famous supermodel, a talking mouse, I...in the middle of the hall, crying our eyes out, two for love they didn't give, one for the love he couldn't provide, and one longing for the familiar face to pop up suddenly, smile, say, "I love you..."

-

"We're going down to the cafeteria to get some snacks. Do you want anything?" Columbo stood at the entrance to my room, where I lay on the makeshift hospital cot, my eyes still red.

I turn my head over and answer him. "Yeah. A bag of chips and a soda."

Columbo nodded and disappeared. I sighed and closed my eyes.

After our heart-wrenching cry-a-thon, Mr. and Mrs. Tomohura, along with Columbo, had also opted to stay at the hospital with Shorty, until she awoke. They were placed in the room next to mine. That was two days ago.

The hospital had been swamped with telephone calls for me. From all of our old teammates: Frida, Comet, Kelly, Tsutomu, Bi-O, Capoeira, Kitty-N, even Robo-Z and Pander, among others. All were extremely worried and anxious. They all knew and loved Shorty.

But the last phone call was the one that was imprinted in my mind. Irami gestured to me and had me come over to the nurses' desk to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" I greeted, wondering.

"Hi," a deep female voice answered.

"Pinks." A swirl of magenta floated through my mind, like the perfume she always wore.

"I heard about Shorty. I really hope she's alright. She's such a little angel..."

"Pinky, you're a fortune teller. You can see the future! What do you see in your crystal ball?"

"I already tried that baby...I'm not sure about this one...whether she'll live or die..."

I close my eyes and inhale. She'll live. If it kills me, she'll live.

I wanna go see her.

I get up and stride quickly along down the hall, through the double doors that say LONG TERM and into Shorty's room. There she lies, her respirator plugged into her, the heart rate monitor next to bed, beeping, beating like her unconscious heart. I pull up a chair and sit next to her, hold her hand.

"Everything's gonna be fine," I say. "You'll be up in no time."

I must be bad luck.

The heart rate monitor...its usual, steady beeps showing heartbeats...it was slowing...

"No..." I heard my voice squeak. Not my own voice, but the voice of a scared man, trying to ward off Death from his beloved.

I bolt out of my chair and rush out of the room. What kind of a hospital is this? Why is no one here? "HELP! Help, somebody, she's dying, she's dying! Help her—!"

Should I go for help? I look back to the bed. The heart rate monitor is almost silent, only a beep every ten seconds. She was almost dead.

I sit on her bed, take her in my arms, on my lap, and hold her face close to mine, my hand stroking the soft brown hair.

"Don't give up, Shorty, no. You can out of this, remember? You can do whatever you want, and you won't die! Pull out of this, Shorty! You have to! For me! For yourself! 'Cause I love you so much!"

My response was a choked expression on her face, as if she was trying to breathe but couldn't, as if she had submitted to darkness.

"Shorty...?! SHORTY?!"

Gone.

TBC

There's more. Stay tuned.