A/N : BEWARE OF THE MUSHYNESS! oh yeah...and the crap-spectacular ending. O.o would you believe this is the first fic I have EVER finished. yay for me. *throws confetti* Yes...this is...the LAST chapter. Short...and not so sweet....but read it anyway, and tell me what you think! ah yes....and in case you were confused from the last chapter...hm...I HOPE this one clears things up...

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Still pressed to the back of his seat, Youji peered out onto the road between his white-knuckled hands. Shuldich as silent beside him…he seemed to be as curious as the blonde himself. There it was again…the ominous flash in the dark…like…like…like…like headlights on steel…like light on a sword.
Holy. Shit.
The roaring car bore down on the feeble glimmer, and Youji realized what it was. It was Aya's katana gleaming in the dark…and behind it the multi-facetted shine of Ken's claws…and the tiny spark of the tip of a crossbow bolt. The headlight swung over them…and sure enough there were three silhouettes against the sky…standing perfectly still…ready for him. The light was blinding, for a moment, but the assassin's instincts kicked in and he wrenched the wheel around suddenly. The tires squealed their protest, the sudden turn almost capsizing the vehicle…but then it was upright again, sliding sideways, the sound of metal a sickening, piercing noise along the barrier. Suddenly, he felt the body of Shuldich as the redhead threw himself over Youji's lap. He was spitting vile curses, lip curled up in a sneer of hatred and…something near panic. Through the fragile link between their minds, Youji felt the hatred streaming into him like a violent river…images assaulting him…Crawford, Nagi…Farferello…blood…people…people's faces screaming, streaming by…woman, children, men…blood…so much blood and…Sanity returned and the world came into clarity. Shuldich had control of him. Shuldich was there in his head. Leering, eyes cold.
Give me your control kitten. Give it NOW.
Even if he had wanted to, the blonde could not have resisted. His foot slammed down on the accelerator again, hands spinning the wheel back onto the road. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the headlight do a second sweep over the three assassins in the road. His panicked mind could do nothing to control his body as they headed straight for the three on the road, engine roaring like an angry beast. Vainly he fought back in his mind…but it was like a mouse fighting a cat…completely and utterly useless. He sensed Shuldich calm as the redhead's control over the situation was resumed. But all he could see was Aya, standing still upon the freeway, not even shocked, not even a trace of fear in his swiftly nearing violet eyes. At the last second he moved. And when he moved, WeiB moved with him, the three assassin's synchronizing a sudden leap…Aya one way, Ken and the blonde the other. He heard the scream of metal on metal as the brunette's claws raked the sides of the vehicle uselessly…Aya's move was more effective. A hissing of air sounded as his Katana slashed the back wheel, and then over it, Shuldich's cursing as Youji lost control over the direction of the little car. It swerved sickeningly, sliding sideways again down the center of the road…and then swerved again as Youji tried to keep it from sliding into the ditch. Ahead, his savior. He glanced the barrier only in a brief flash, but knew what he had to do. The car was still traveling at a significant speed…and his captor had relinquished all control once more. Youji eased on the accelerator, trying to keep the car moving forward rather than sideways. It jumped, sputtered, jumped again and then roared as Shuldich and Youji were thrown backwards, Youji's hands up over his face with the expected contact. They hit, and he had no time to react…he was thrown forward violently, felt the small resistance of the windshield, and then was through it, flying over the hood of the car and onto the short barrier. He grunted as his body connected with it with a sickening crack, throwing him sideways and off of the thing, landing in a crumpled ball beside it. He was aware of a faint heat…and the trickling of blood…and then he lost all consciousness.

(a/n and just so we're all clear, Shculdich took control of Yo-tan's mind to make him do all the funky driving stuff to try and kill the rest of weiB...but then gave it back once he saw that he wasn't making things better. And by throwing himself over youji's lap, no, megan, he was NOT trying to give our favorite blonde a blow-job. -_-;;;)
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Schuldich was gone. That was the only thought that raced, like raging, frustrated fire, through Aya's brain. Schuldich was gone. And therefore, revenge: impossible. He ground his teeth, fingers tightening on the jagged piece of metal that had once been the passenger door. There was blood on the seat…the windshield had smashed. But only one form had gone through it. And that had been Youji. According to all logic trains of thought, the redhead could not have left the car without WeiB noticing. He could not of. Impossible. But then, when is came to Schwarz, nothing, it seemed was impossible. Including disappearing into thin air. With a frustrated snarl, Aya turned away from the smoking ruin that was all that remained of the viper.

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Several paces away, concealed by tendrils of dark…and by the cement wall in the center of the road, Schuldich was bent in pain, pale hands pressed to his temples. He uttered no sound. Over him loomed the straight form of Crawford, one black-gloved hand resting almost comfortingly the redhead's bent back. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked past their cover and out onto the other side of the road…where the shadows that were WeiB moved like wraiths in the weak light of the headlights. Behind him…the gleaming eyes of Nagi and the single yellow one of Farferello glowed like the eyes of feral creatures. Nagi did not move…the effort of moving the prone body of his teammate from the car had been enough to wear him out. Not to mention being forced to stir the man's mind from unconsciousness. Farferello cradled a long dirk lovingly in two hands, looking directly at the back of the suited Crawford. Under his breath he muttered curses…half prayers…
From Schuldich a soft groan…it seemed to break the black-haired assassin's trance and he looked down on the telepath with mild interest…and reproach. He crouched, so as to be on the same level as the other. With one fine hand he lifted Schuldich's chin, looking into the pained blue eyes for a moment. Then lifted his other hand slowly. He brought it sharply across the assassin's face. Schuldich recoiled, but his eyes were downcast, avoiding the anger of the other.
"Don't try to steal from me again, fool."
The hand that had slapped him waved the disc mildly between two fingers.
"Although…I know you will."
He stood, gaze once again locked on the drifting form across from him. The eyes of Farferello and Nagi were wary behind him. All the better. With a quick intake of breath, Crawford turned away.
"Lets go."

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Ken held the prone form of Youji between two arms. He was stirring, but only slightly. Blood tricked down his forehead…and from a gash along his ribs. Omi's blue eyes were huge, his voice a whisper.
"Will he be okay?"
Aya was tearing cloth away from the wound at the blonde's ribs, and it was a while before he answered.
"Probably."
With two fingers he prodded at the parted flesh. Youji groaned softly, pulling away from his touch. Aya shrugged. And drew away.
"We should get moving. We need to get this bandaged as soon as possible."
Carefully he took the blonde from Ken's tired arms. The weight was considerable, but he took it without complaint. The matted blonde hair fell over the closed eyes, ruby lips slightly parted. Relief flooded him. Youji had returned to them. Alive. The relief brought weariness…and weariness brought the reminder of his wound, searing like fire blossoming in his side.
Ah well. Such things could be dealt with. The loss of Youji could not.
Aya turned his head back towards the apartment. The desire for revenge was nearly dead in him. Nearly.

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Two days. Two days Aya had said. Two days in which he had done nothing but sleep. It was little wonder he felt like he'd consumed ten cups of coffee, three chocolate bars an entire liter of coke. On the contrary, his wound was healing faster than Aya's…and the scratch little more than a scab. Absently his long fingers played over the loose ends of the bandage. Across from him Aya sipped at a cup of tea. His Violet eyes were fixed on a notepad in front of him…although as far as Youji could tell, he had not yet written anything.
"Come, Aya…I feel like a wound spring. I can't sit here and do nothing!"
The redhead regarded him carefully.
"But you're going to have to."
Youji sighed. Omi and Ken were handling the flower shop alone today. Aya had been given the duty of babysitting. Apparently he enjoyed it immensely. Note the sarcasm.
"Well. At least amuse me, then."
Aya's irritation was obvious over his notepad.
"Amuse yourself, you lazy ass."
Youji's reply was a breath of wind.
"If only you'd let me."
Silence.
"So I suppose my injuries will keep me from working the next few days, ne?"
"If you can stand, Youji, you can work. In fact, you'll be doing so tomorrow."
Well so much for that experiment. He reached for the remote and flicked on the television. Aya's death glare was ignored. Figures. Nothing good on.
"I'll make you a deal."
Aya's cool voice was hardly audible over the sound of the TV, but Youji heard it well enough. The news announcer was immediately cut off in mid-sentence as he hit the power button, attention turned towards his teammate. The redhead had leaned back, his pencil and notepad on the couch beside him. His expression was odd. Amusement…almost…
"You shut…and keep…that noise box off and I'll find some way to amuse you."
Youji considered it…and then consented with a sleight nod. Aya smiled.
"Okay. Multiple-choice question. Right now I would like to, a: spread Schuldich's innards around on the sidewalk, b: Spread your innards around on the sidewalk, or c: Finish writing without interruption."
Youji scowled and absently threw the remote at him. Aya caught it deftly, the smile turning into an uncharacteristic grin.
"Don't know? Okay…how 'bout this one? You are, a: a lazy, useless piece of shit, b: an annoying playboy asshole, or c: going to make me lunch."
The blonde raised an eyebrow. Two could play this game.
"Or d: a handsome, kind, considerate, tough, intelligent…"
Aya interrupted.
"Okay, okay...I wouldn't want you to go on all day."
Youji's turn to glare. He stood, stretching. The restless energy from before had been replaced by a pounding weariness from his wound. But he knew that he could not sleep. Instead he flopped down on the couch next to Aya, peering over his shoulder. When the redhead tried to turn the notepad away, Youji pushed it back down.
"Come on. I deserve to at least get a glimpse after that little trick."
Muttering the assassin consented and Youji snatched it from him. The page was blank. He turned a skeptical look on its owner. Aya's creamy hands turned back the page before.
"Baka…"
Youji stared. On the page before him was a drawing of…himself. In sleep, the green eyes closed, the penciled tendrils of his hair fallen over full lips and cheeks. Long-fingered hands splayed luxuriously before the face, reaching out towards the viewer.
"When did you do that?!?"
Aya shrugged.
"While you were sleeping, obviously."
The blonde muttered.
"Bastard."
The grin had returned to the other's face.
"I know."
"What, you miss me or something?"
Aya snorted.
"Of course I did. But Omi worried more."
Youji's face had broken into a triumphant grin.
"Omi worried more. Bullshit! You probably cried like a baby when you found out I was gone!"
Aya raised one fine brow.
"Hardly."
Youji was laughing. He handed the sketch back to Aya, who set it on the table beside him. His head was tilted back against the cloth, mocking. The redhead's mind stirred…the memory of a memory…when he had lain alone and feverish and consumed in pain and fire. He remembered thinking of Youji's face silhouetted against the dark of a window. He remembered questions. Specifically…questions about his sister…about…forgetting. And the summer nights…full of light and laughter and evenings of only the four of them. No thought of missions, or blood or Manx. Just being people…being normal. He remembered Youji's questions…and he remembered leaving. And regret. He had regretted leaving Youji cold and answerless on the living room sofa. And yet, no way to turn back. To steal back the time that he had lost. He turned to Youji. His face obviously betrayed his thoughts, for the blonde titled his head to one side, looking curious.
"What's bothering you, Aya?"
Aya's lip twitched unconsciously.
"Just remembering."
"Oh? What?"
Aya looked at him through half-closed eyes, a satisfied expression on his face. He lifted a single finger, and traced the line of Youji's throat to the collarbone. The assassin didn't resist. He saw the memory awaken in his face, saw the small hurt that went with it.
"You see?"
"Yes."
Nothing came without pain. Not even this. He reached up and brushed a lock of gold hair from Youji's face.
"And you forgive me?"
"Of course."
"Good."
He drew away, picking up the notebook again and placing it on his lap.
"Then shut up and let me write."
Youji smiled and leaned against the arm of the couch.
"It's good to be back with you, Aya. It's good to be back."

(a/n: see? >. I tooold you it was mushy. Yes, you all may go throw up now. but hell. I FINISHED IT! And once again, just so that we're all on the same page...recognise Aya's 'memory of a memory' from the FIRST scene? where he was still wounded and thinking about the summer? if not, go back and look. Yes, I can see realization dawning on all your faces. Yes, I know I should have explained it better in the scene. Yes, I KNOW aya is out of character, but you're all going to have to DEAL, okay? Ahahahaha. okay. Will get more S*it up later. for now. I FINISHED IT! I FIIIIIIINISHED IT! WHEEEEE! *ahem* well. thanks guys, for coming along on the ride...I appreciate it muchly.)