Part VI

"Shit, what are we gonna tell Omi?" Youji slumped in the passenger seat of Aya's car, fiddling with his lighter.

Aya didn't bother to answer. They had already had this conversation several times the night before, and several times again since Youji had woken up.

It was almost gratifying how worried Youji had been when Aya had finally staggered in. It had taken all his willpower to get up off the ground in that quiet neighborhood and ride the subway back to Youji's apartment. He hadn't felt like explaining himself, so he didn't. Just said, 'Ken's not dead,' and collapsed on the couch, his arm over his eyes. Youji had realized the significance, had put two and two together all on his own. And then, he had hovered, as if Aya's confession early that morning, god, it already felt like a lifetime ago, had only made him less sure of where he stood, what Aya wanted. Youji didn't touch, didn't reach out, and Aya ached for something he couldn't even articulate.

Youji had gone to bed after Aya had snapped at him for the umpteenth time, 'I don't know.' He had added, 'Leave me alone'. So Youji did. And for some reason, Aya was angry that he had, instead of relieved.

He pulled into the underground parking garage smoothly, nodding at the security guard.

"Name and business," the man said, producing out a clipboard.

"Fujimiya Aya and Kudou Youji. We're here to see Tsukiyono-san."

The guard flipped through his list for a moment. "I'll need to see some I.D."

Aya had the cards ready. He handed them over and the guard squinted through the window to look at Youji's face. Youji grinned and waggled his fingers at the man. Omi had given Aya a temporary clearance for the time he was in Tokyo. Youji, as an occasional employee, apparently had a more permanent arrangement.

The gate keeper gave the cards back to Aya and then punched in a code on a keypad to open the gate. It rose noiselessly. Kritiker was well ordered in Omi's capable hands. Aya appreciated it. Other people always missed the little things.

After he turned off the engine, they sat wordlessly for a few minutes, bracing themselves for what lay ahead. Aya was dreading this more than anything, except the day Aya-chan found out what he was really like. On that day . . . He pulled himself back from the precipice with difficulty at the sound of Youji's voice.

"Well, let's get this over with, shall we?" Youji unbuckled his seatbelt with a soft click.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked toward the elevator. Youji punched the security code as Aya pushed the call button impassively. The tension increased until Aya felt he could see it visibly in the air between them during the interminable ride upstairs. Omi's office door was at the very end of the hallway. It was standing half way open, and Aya surmised that the guard must have called ahead. Somehow the fact that Omi was expecting them didn't make it any easier.

"Here goes nothing," Youji muttered as they stepped inside. He nudged the door back with his foot, closing it with a soft thud and ensuring their privacy.

Omi was leaning against the edge of his desk, idly flipping through a plain manila file folder. He set it down behind him when he heard the door shut. "What's up?" he asked, taking in their too serious faces.

One glance at Youji's face told Aya it was up to him. He took a step forward. "Ken's not dead," he said heavily.

"What?" Omi stood up straight in surprise. "But that means," he said almost to himself, then he turned anguished eyes to Youji. "That's not possible!"

"I'm afraid it is, kiddo," Youji said, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry."

"How do you know?"

Aya winced at the tremor in Omi's voice. No matter how hard this was for him and Youji, it had to be doubly hard for Omi. After being betrayed by his blood relatives, betrayal by one of his surrogate family had to be painful. And that's what it was - Ken's betrayal. His renouncement of Weiss, and his attempts to sever those ties amounted to a terrible betrayal of the only real family Omi had ever known, as dysfunctional as they were. Out of the corner of his eye, Aya saw Youji take a few hesitant steps toward the younger man.

"He," Youji began.

At the soft snick of the door handle depressing, Aya turned. "Youji," he said sharply. He stilled his automatic reach for the gun hidden snugly under his left arm as Ken slipped through the door and closed it softly.

Pointing a gun straight at Omi's head, Ken said evenly, "Don't move."

"Ken!" Omi's horrified whisper seemed to reverberate in the room.

"What's wrong, Omi-kun?" Ken mocked. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He gave a low chuckle at his own joke.

Omi spread his arms wide. "Why are you doing this?" he stuttered. "We're your friends."

Ken's face twisted. "You're not my friend!" he yelled.

Youji's mouth opened and closed. "What?" he managed.

Ken didn't even look in Youji's direction. "You are the one that made me this way," he snarled at Omi, his lips curling over his teeth.

The moment Aya saw Ken's finger tighten on the trigger he was reaching for his gun. But it was too late, too late. "Omi!" Youji screamed as the bullet impacted Omi's chest, jolting his body before he slowly crumpled to the floor. An ominous dark stain spread around the wound.

Ken laughed.

It was something that would haunt Aya for the rest of his life. Ken laughed, and it seemed like all the evil in the world was wrapped up in that one sound. It was eerie and wicked and infinitely satisfied. Ken was still laughing as he turned, raising his weapon, and without a second thought Aya steadied his gun hand and fired.

The first shot jerked Ken's head back. His eyes seemed to widen in surprise and the smile abruptly vanished from his face. Aya kept firing as Ken fell, emptying the clip into his chest.

Ken's blood soaked into the deep blue carpet, turning it black in an ever widening stain. Aya stared at it in fascination. He felt a great weight pressing down on his shoulders, pushing him toward the ground like gravity multiplied a hundred times. His knees wobbled. Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, Aya could hear Youji pleading with Omi to be all right. The world melted away, leaving him with the deepening black of the carpet and Ken's unforgiving dead eyes.

It all seemed so far away. He couldn't take his eyes off the blood.

"Aya, call security! Aya? Aya!"

------

"So after that, I had to sit around and wait for them to finish the surgery." Youji unlocked his apartment door and slipped through, Aya following silently behind. The minute Youji had climbed into the driver's seat of Aya's Porsche at the hospital, he'd started talking, and had kept up a running dialogue all the way back. Aya hadn't been able to face going into the hospital with Omi, so he had waited numbly in the car for what had probably been hours. He couldn't remember.

Aya hadn't said a single word in the car. He only heard snatches of what Youji was saying, too caught up in the nightmare of Ken falling over and over and over again in his mind. The roar of the gun in his ears, the strange echoing sound of Ken's laughter, the look in his eyes, the blood spreading, spreading . . .

He closed his eyes, but that only served to immerse him more fully in the dream. He jumped when Youji laid a concerned hand on his arm, his green eyes digging deep into Aya's soul. "Are you all right?"

A strange anger bubbled up from somewhere deep inside Aya's gut. Ken's dead. Ken's dead and I killed him and you're asking me if I'm all right? He bared his teeth and slammed Youji back into the wall savagely. You don't understand. You never understood anything about what I need! What I need . . . He pressed his lips to Youji's, muffling his surprised exclamation with the force of his tongue. Youji's hands rested tentatively on his hips, belying the desperate hunger in his answering kiss.

Aya broke the kiss and swung Youji around, pushing him toward the bedroom. He shed his jacket, dropping it carelessly on the floor next to his shoes. Youji backed away, eyes a little wide, as Aya stalked toward him.

I want to bury myself in you. I want you to help me forget.

"Aya," Youji faltered as Aya shoved him again, this time onto the bed.

He knelt over Youji and kissed him roughly. Youji clutched Aya's shirt, arching against him as Aya nipped at his neck. Why don't you ever let me forget? He was drowning himself in Youji's mouth, dark and sweet, trying to shut out the horror and the blood. He fumbled with the buttons on Youji's jeans with one hand, propping himself up with the other arm.

Youji tore his mouth away, gasping for air. His lips were red from the force of their kisses. Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at Aya.

Aya froze at the hint of fear he saw deep in Youji's eyes. He raised himself slowly, so that he was sitting back on his knees. What am I doing? The rage buried itself again, simmering under the surface of his psyche. He touched Youji's parted lips with a hand that trembled. "No, Youji," he whispered. "I'm not okay."

Pushing himself off the bed, Aya walked dazedly toward the living room, sparing one glance back at Youji. He had raised himself up on one elbow, a bewildered expression on his face. His hair was tousled, his shirt was riding up his stomach, and his pants were half undone. Oh god. I just – Youji opened his mouth as if to speak, but if he said anything, Aya didn't hear it as he practically ran out of the room and threw himself at the farthest corner of the couch.

He sat with his head in his hands, rubbing at his face tiredly. What have I done? Aya shook his head slowly, as much to clear it as to deny the day's events. Ken was dead by his hand, and he felt nothing. All Youji had been trying to do was comfort him, support him and he had –

He had done it again. He had hurt someone he cared about. (He still shied away from the word "love", even now.) He had always been so afraid of being hurt that he had pushed everyone away, but in the end he always let them in. And then he failed them, just like he had failed Youji just now, and all those years ago, when he had left for the first time. Just like he had failed to protect Omi from Ken, and Ken from himself.

Aya ran his hands through his hair. How could he have shot Ken? Youji would have found some other way, he would have protected Omi, he would have saved Ken. Aya had made things worse. He couldn't even muster any grief over Ken's death. He had already mourned, before this.

Cursed. That's what he was. He was bad luck. Tragedies multiplied around him. Everyone would be better off if he left. Youji certainly would. Aya was dangerous. He didn't ever want to see Youji look at him with real fear in his eyes. Youji didn't need that. And Aya-chan would always be in danger if Aya was around. His failure to protect Omi made it clear that he was too incompetent to protect Aya-chan as well. He had always known that, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind, subsumed it with the desire to protect her, and his selfish desire to keep her pure love.

Leaning back on the couch, Aya stared out the window. The sky was just barely beginning to lighten. In just a few hours he could go see Omi. He would apologize, he would ask Omi to look after Aya-chan, and say goodbye. They would all lead better lives without him. Aya-chan would never be hurt by the killer he had become, and Youji . . . Youji would never want to see him again anyway. He could go far away, shut himself off, and never hurt them again.

As it turned out, he hadn't had to worry about someone breaking his heart. He had done it himself.