A/N: All right, before all of you don't read because of that character death thing . . . well . . . give me a chance! I hope you won't regret it.
Part I
The doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Aya-chan yelled, running down the hall.
Aya put the book he had been reading down on the arm of his chair and shook his head at his younger sister's exuberance. Even before . . . that unfortunate period in his life, he had always been more reserved than Aya-chan. But now he was Ran again, and he was finding it difficult to open up and become the boy Aya-chan expected him to be. In his deepest, most private thoughts, he still thought of himself as Aya, even though he had laid that name to rest when his precious sister had returned to him. He had changed, irrevocably, when he had killed for the first time. Ran had been gone since then, and now he was unable to be Aya as well.
He heard his sister answer the door, and a deep mellow voice saying, "You must be Aya-chan." His blood ran cold. He knew that voice. He hurried the short distance to the hall, then set his mouth in a grim, determined line and stepped out to greet his visitor.
Seeing Youji again was almost a physical shock. His green eyes still sparkled, his mouth still formed that completely irresistible grin, he was still dressed impeccably as usual. A leather jacket was draped across one arm. His hair was shorter, darker, and artfully tousled. It gave him more polished look. Their eyes met and it burned.
Youji paused almost imperceptibly. "Hello, Ran." He smiled, but his eyes were hooded and dark.
Aya-chan looked confusedly at them both. "Who is he, onii-chan?" she demanded.
Aya began to feel a vague disquiet growing in his mind. He had never told Aya-chan much about what he had been doing while she was . . . sleeping. "This is Kudou Youji," he said. "An old –" friend, teammate, lover "co-worker."
"Oh, at the flower shop?" Aya-chan was all sunny smiles. "Come in, Kudou-san."
Youji looked at her bemusedly. "So polite," he murmured, throwing a meaningful glance at Aya. "Please, call me Youji," he said as he slipped off his shoes. "You make me feel like an old man."
"Would you like some tea, Youji-san?"
Aya suppressed a frown. He didn't want Youji here. He must have some ulterior motive for coming by. Aya had tried to cut things off cleanly with all his old teammates, but he should have guessed that Omi wouldn't have let him get off so easily. Well, Kritiker could say whatever it wanted, but he wasn't going to get drawn into that mess again. His sister came first. Above everything. Kritiker had never understood that. Neither had Youji.
"Tea would be nice, Aya," he said softly. "Thank you."
She bounded down the hallway toward the kitchen, and Aya and Youji were left alone. The disquiet was growing into a sharply looming gray cloud screaming danger! Aya squared his shoulders. "How did you know where I lived?" he spit out.
Youji gave him a disbelieving look.
Kritiker then. Damn Omi. Damn him straight to hell. "Why didn't you call first?"
"Thanks for the warm welcome," Youji said sarcastically. He brushed past him and peered into the living room. "Nice place you got here." His voice floated out of the room as he explored.
Aya felt something akin to violation. He grit his teeth and followed Youji. "What do you want?"
Youji looked up from the picture he was holding. Aya-chan stared cheerily out at them, forever frozen in her happiness. "I don't really want to talk about it here," he said heavily. "Come out and have a drink with me."
Anything to get him out of the apartment and away from Aya-chan. "All right."
Youji set the picture down and shrugged into his jacket. Moving toward the door, he brought out a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter. He stuck one in his mouth and said, "I'll be outside," shutting the door quietly behind him.
Aya stuck his head in the kitchen where Aya-chan was humming brightly and arranging cups on a tray. "We're going out," he said shortly.
"But," she started, gesturing to the kettle, the cups. "I thought," she tried again.
"I'll be back sometime tonight. Not too late," he informed her.
"Oh."
She looked so despondent standing there that Aya went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "We have some things we need to talk about," he said vaguely. "We don't want to disturb your studies." He poked her and she rewarded him with a smile.
"Well, have fun then, onii-chan," she said, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
He gave her a small smile and turned away. "I'm sure we will."
------
They sat at a dark corner table in the bar. Youji lifted a hand as he adjusted his chair with the other, garnering the attention of a tired looking waitress. They remained silent, Aya stoically studying the walls, Youji fidgeting with his cigarettes, until the waitress brought their drinks and they could talk without being interrupted.
"You haven't changed at all." Youji finally lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke off to the side of the table.
Aya eyed him speculatively. "What did you do to your hair?"
Youji ducked his head, grinning sheepishly as he ran his hand through dark, short locks. "A sacrifice on the altar of anonymity. Don't worry, I'm just as much fun as before."
Aya snorted. "All right," he said mildly. "No more small talk. Why are you here?"
Suddenly serious, Youji took a deep drag on his cigarette, avoiding Aya's gaze. "Ken's dead, Ran."
Shocked, Aya could only sit numbly, one hand clutching his sweating glass, as Youji went on.
"Someone set fire to his apartment building. It was obviously arson, and we're still sifting through the evidence in conjunction with the local police. Omi's taking it kind of hard, and we both thought you should know, in case you wanted to go to his memorial service."
"Hn," Aya managed. Ken. Ken was dead. Vibrant, joyful Ken, who wore his heart on his sleeve. Ken, who was the most knight-like out of all of them.
"I don't know why he insisted on doing . . . that kind of work, after Weiss broke up." Youji was fiddling with his lighter, flicking it on and off. The cigarette lay forgotten in the ashtray, a few small tendrils of smoke drifting up toward the ceiling. "He didn't have to keep killing. Omi was always trying to talk him out of it, let someone else step in for a while."
"Maybe he couldn't help it." Aya took a large swallow of his drink, wincing a little at the bitter sting of it on his tongue.
Youji's eyes met Aya's briefly before dropping them to stare at his lighter again. "I still work for them occasionally," he said. "But I'll never go back to that."
Finishing his drink in another swallow, Aya stood up. "Tell Omi I'm sorry," he said. "But I have to stay here with Aya-chan."
Youji half stood, leaning over the table. "Wait, there's something else you need to know."
Aya remained standing. "What?" he growled. He wanted to get back to his other life. He wanted to talk to his sister, so she could make him forget his dark past and call him Ran again. That name on Youji's lips sounded utterly foreign.
"Ken was the third agent to die in the past month."
"The third?" Aya interrupted.
Youji nodded. "The first was a boating accident. Omi didn't start to get really suspicious until the second agent was found shot to death in his own house. Nakata-san was old Kritiker, Ran. He knew who Weiss was. And then Ken . . ." Youji trailed off, pressing his lips together.
Aya sat back down abruptly. "You think," he began, horrified. The dark, ominous feeling from earlier came back a thousand fold.
"Don't worry, Aya," Youji smiled a tired little smile. "Nakata didn't know you live in Osaka now. He only knew your name."
He fixed Youji with a baleful stare. "Don't call me that." He absolutely did not need Youji adding to his personality crisis now. He didn't need to remember the way he said it when they . . . he deliberately pushed those memories away, locking them deep inside his heart again.
"You didn't seem to mind before," Youji said. "Until she woke up," he added bitterly. "She was always more important than us, wasn't she?"
Aya knew where this was going. "Yes, she is," he hissed, slamming his fist on the table and looking straight into Youji's suddenly hooded expression. His 'I don't want you to see how this hurts me' expression. But he went on anyway. "And don't talk to me about 'us.' You were the one who ran into that fucking Schrient woman's arms without a second thought. Asuka, Asuka," he mocked, knowing he was being cruel and not caring.
Youji's face twisted. "Asshole," he spat. "You left first." He rose, slapping some yen down on the table. "No 'goodbye,' no 'so long it's been fun,' nothing. You left first." He stalked out of the bar, leaving Aya with two empty glasses, a pile of yen, a still smoking cigarette butt, and a silver-plated lighter.
He sighed heavily, picking up the lighter and flipping the cap up. For some reason, he felt very tired. Soul weary. He clicked it on and watched the flame rise. It was Youji's lighter. He never went anywhere without it. Youji would be back. The flame flickered, shining unsteadily in the dim light of the bar. Suddenly angry, with himself, or with Youji, he wasn't sure, he savagely closed the cap and threw the lighter down on the table. He laid his head in his arms. The table smelled of smoke and grease and cleaning solution, but it didn't matter.
Ken was dead.
