A/N: Yes, we are going toaddress the Byakko incident. It's not over yet, but since Rikugo is trying to interact normally with Byakko, there hasn't been a chance. He also spends a lot of time in Meifu. And it's also not like we're going to let his hair grow back miraculously in no time. Some things stick around and come up at a later point... and Byakko will come up in this story... at a later point... because right now Rikugo has a different problem to deal with :) Just be patient, guys.

We keep track of our plot :P

He woke to a world of pain, to a pounding headache behind his eyes, to the sensation of broken bones and torn muscles. He couldn't remember a time he had ever felt this bad and with every breath he took, with every fiery pulse that ran down his spine, it grew worse. He heard a soft groan that had to be his own, heard whimpers and protests, and he felt gentle hands on his feverish skin. He felt coolness, softness, a cocoon of safety, and he drifted off once more.

When he woke again the pain was manageable. Red eyes blinked open, met by filtered sunlight coming through the closed blinds. He was in his room; where else? He was still alive; had he expected anything else? No. He was immortal. He couldn't die. What surprised him was that he was actually in his room, not the place where he had finally collapsed.

Someone had brought him here, had cleaned him up, had brought him to bed... but it couldn't have been Watson. His servant had been taken down by the devil as well.

So who...?

There was a little shift in the mattress and he froze.

The Count turned his head and a soft exhalation of air left his lungs.

No!

There, next to him, sat Tsuzuki. Dark, tousled hair fell onto the mattress from where the young shinigami rested his head on his folded arms, upper body bent. He was asleep, using the mattress of Ryu's bed as a pillow.

Ryo could only stare.

Tsuzuki. So close, almost in his reach...

It had been his wildest dream just months ago. Now... now he lay here, injured, unable to move more than a finger, and his wet dream was sleeping innocently in the same bed. Well, his head was resting on the mattress...

He blinked again.

Why was Tsuzuki here at all?

His memories of events after the battle were fuzzy at best. He thought he remembered Rikugo, but that might just be a dream, a hallucination -- wishful thinking.

Had Tsuzuki found him? Brought him here? If so, why? No one cared to come to the Palace unless there was need or unless he invited them. He doubted Enma-Daiou was gracious enough to send his shinigami to the Palace after a devil attack that had been successfully thwarted by its guardian. Enma knew he would heal, that the palace would repair itself. There was no need for help...

So Tsuzuki had come here voluntarily...?

Gazing at the smooth, pale face, Ryo reached out with one trembling hand to touch the light that made his life worthwhile, then let the hand fall again. He sighed softly.

So wonderful, he thought. My dream, my wish, my life. Oh Tsuzuki...

A pair of amethyst eyes suddenly met his soft, loving gaze, the pain forgotten, his punishment of eternal life forgotten. Ryu's breath caught in his throat as he looked into the eyes he had dreamed of, had fallen into so many times.

A smile spread on Tsuzuki's face and he sat up. "Hey, you're awake!" he called.

And he was without his mask.

Enma's name, no!

Trying to turn away from the one man who he had never wanted him to see like this, he cried out as pain flared in every limb of his body. Ryu curled up, panting harshly, eyes screwed shut, trying to ride out the agony.

There was a gentle voice, a touch so gentle and careful it seemed to chase away the pain, and there was a power coursing through him. Healing him, mending his broken body, helping him along with the healing process. Someone ran a careful caress over his head and he sank into the solid form that offered him strength, too tired to care who it was.

"Ryu?" the voice was back, soft, quizzical.

Rikugo...

He opened his eyes, his vision fuzzy from the tears, and he looked into a pair of very black eyes in a worried face.

"Rikugo?" he stammered.

"Yes. Just relax..."

Relax...

He was aware of the warmth that held him and his body shuddered at the realization who it was. Rikugo was in front of him, so... Ryu groaned and closed his eyes, turning his head away, wishing he could just ignore the implications.

Tsuzuki was here; Tsuzuki had seen him. Tsuzuki was holding him in a way he had hoped for and dreamed of for decades. Now... now he just wanted to hide.

Tears wanted to fall and he tried to hold them back, but he was emotionally too wide open to stop it. Groaning, he surrendered to the flood, sliding back into the darkness, that cool and forgiving place.

° ° °

Tsuzuki studied the pale face, the healing wounds that scarred what was a handsome countenance with high cheekbones, a perfect nose, a smooth forehead and delicate eyebrows that rode over eyes that spoke of a non-human origin. They spoke of something Tsuzuki didn't want to name, though he guessed it. This wasn't a possessed shinigami; Terazuma's eyes were different. This wasn't a shikigami either. He had eyes like Tsuzuki's.

Demon eyes.

He had felt the aura the moment he had seen the man for the very first time, and something inside of him had reacted to it. It had felt like greeting family...

He shivered a little.

Black hair fell in limp strands into the pale face. The Count's chest rose and fell, but the breathing pattern wasn't healthy yet. Bandages adorned the lithe form. The Count was completely naked, there was only skin and bandages. And he was human. Except for the eyes and the barely really pointed ears...

Tsuzuki watched him, fascinated by the man despite the terrible injuries. He didn't look much older than himself, maybe in his mid-twenties, and he was so very much human... despite the aura.

The demonic aura.

Now he could place it; now he had a name for it. The eyes had been the last clue.

The Count was of demonic heritage, like himself.

Who are you? he wondered. Who are you really?

Rikugo had called him 'Ryu'? Was it his true name?

A moan escaped the injured man and he moved restlessly, which evoked another moan, this time of pain. His face was flushed with fever, a fever that had raged through the healing body for a while now. Rikugo had shared some of his healing energy again, exhausting himself after the brief nap. Tsuzuki had sent him off to sleep some more, which he did, curled up on the couch.

His shikigami was truly worried about the man, and not just on a professional level as a healer. There were emotions there, emotions Tsuzuki recognized from himself and Hisoka while they had danced around the subject of their true feelings.

A whimper escaped the dry lips and Tsuzuki reached out, carefully stroking a light touch over the hot skin.

Red eyes cracked open, unfocused, glazed, and filled with suffering. Drawn to the pain, wanting to help, Tsuzuki leaned over the man and smiled calmingly.

"It's okay," he whispered, brushing the sweat soaked hair from the feverish forehead. "It's okay..."

The eyes closed again and a soft sigh left the Count.

Tsuzuki kept up his soothing caress. It was when he felt a gaze rest upon him that he turned and met the onyx gaze of his shikigami. Rikugo looked at him, still tired, a strange expression in his eyes.

The shinigami just smiled.

He knew it would be okay. Things would be fine.

° ° °

Tsuzuki sat on the comfortable couch, Indian-style, hands wrapped around a mug of lemon-flavored green tea. The hot liquid did a lot to ease his tense muscles, as did the presence of his lover and partner. Hisoka was watching him from intense green eyes, waiting, giving him time to collect his thought.

The attack on the Palace was by now known throughout Meifu and Tsuzuki had talked with Tatsumi for quite some time, asking him to give the Count some time to regenerate before anyone came over. Tatsumi had agreed, as had Konoe. Tsuzuki hadn't liked the expression in Konoe's eyes throughout the briefing. He knew that their boss had a direct line to Enma-Daiou and that alone made him suspicious now and then. As much as he was a very humane and approachable man, he also took his orders from the Lord of this realm, and he knew more than he usually let on.

Placing the cup on the table, Tsuzuki leaned back into the cushions, sighing a little.

Rikugo was staying at the Palace, taking care of the gravely injured master of the place. Tsuzuki couldn't get rid of the images of the torn up and beaten body of a slender man around his own age, with those completely inhuman eyes. He had always tried to imagine what the Count might look like underneath that mask, behind the shield of invisibility, but he had never thought him to be that...

"Asato?"

He looked up and gave his lover a little smile. "Sorry. I'm not good company right now."

"You were at the Palace. You saw the destruction. I believe you saw more than just a building torn apart," Hisoka said, as always straight-forward.

He reached for him and pulled the willing young man closer. Hisoka settled down beside him and Tsuzuki leaned in for comfort, which was readily given.

"You're an empath," Tsuzuki murmured, feeling Hisoka's physical touch, just like he felt the mental touch in a way he had never thought was possible. "You know I saw more."

"Yes."

They were silent, Hisoka just carding his fingers into the long, dark strands, caressing him in a soothing manner.

"I never thought of him like that," Tsuzuki finally said softly. "He was always the Count, a pervert, a screwball who was trying to get into my pants, and now..."

"You saw what is behind the mask?"

He nodded.

Hisoka placed a kiss on his temple. "Even as an empath I've never felt him before. Only his surface emotions, the perversion."

"He hides well."

"You saw him now."

"I saw someone who was terribly injured by a devil, who defeated that devil, and who isn't like us at all. Someone else... someone..." Tsuzuki broke off and closed his eyes. He wouldn't tell Hisoka what he had seen, describe the Count to him, because what he had witnessed was something very special, very private.

Hisoka kissed him again, pushing him back to stretch out on the couch in the process. "You don't have to tell me, Asato."

"I can't anyway."

"I know."

Hisoka lay down next to him, snuggling close, one arm wrapped around the narrow waist.

"Is Rikugo with him?"

Tsuzuki blinked. "What makes you think...?"

"Tsuzuki... I'm not blind! I know Rikugo has been coming here a lot lately and he went off to the Palace, right?"

Tsuzuki flushed a little.

"Your shikigami are quite something," Hisoka teased a little.

He chuckled. "It's not like that..."

"So Rikugo's not sleeping with the Count?"

Now Tsuzuki did blush. "Hisoka..."

"He does, right? And he's in one piece and you're not over there to beat the crap out of the Count. That means there's a lot more behind that surface image, hm?"

Very perceptive, Tsuzuki thought, looking into the emerald eyes. Not just because you're an empath, huh?

"Yes, there is," he answered after a while, pulling him closer.

Hisoka nodded and left it at that. He slid a hand underneath the white shirt and ran it over the warm skin, making Tsuzuki sigh. When buttons popped open and a gentle mouth and teeth nipped at his skin, Tsuzuki surrendered to his partner's seduction, simply feeling.

° ° °

He had curled up on his side, coughing weakly, flecks of blood staining the white sheets. Rikugo knew there was little he could do. His body would heal eventually, but the pain was terrible. Reaching out for the suffering man, the astrologer sent a small amount of healing energy into the tortured body. The Count moaned softly, eyes still closed, flinching under the warm flood. Suddenly his eyes cracked open and he gazed at the shikigami sitting at his side.

"Don't," he whispered, lips dry, chapped, voice breaking. "Stop that."

"I want to help."

"Nothing you can do. It'll heal."

Rikugo rested his hand on the shaking form, channeling a little more. He felt the demon fight his help, but soon the body relaxed again.

"Why?"

"Because I hate to see another suffer. You might be unable to die, but your body has to recover from the damage it took, and it was a lot."

A wry smile. "Seen the other?"

Rikugo chuckled. "The smear on the wall? Yes."

There was a brief expression of dark satisfaction, then the blood red eyes slid shut again. He rested uneasily, shaken by dry coughs, blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth, but he was growing stronger. Rikugo remained where he was, waiting, ready to assist. He sensed Watson's presence, radiating the same weakness as his master, but the misshapen gnome was faster to recover from his wounds.

It didn't take long for him to appear and his one good eye widened at the state his master was in.

"I'm taking care of him, Watson," Rikugo calmed the manservant.

The gnome nodded, but he remained in the room, waiting for any kind of orders should Rikugo or the master need anything.

"What happened?" the astrologer asked.

Ryu closed his eyes and sank into the pillows. "He wanted me to relight the candle of his dead daughter," he whispered. "He was a human man, he had suffered such pain, and he fell prey to a devil." A wry smile crossed his lips. "Like someone else I knew once. The devil used him, hid inside the shell of this man's body, and then attacked."

Rikugo listened to the tale, silent, attentive, noting how Ryu's voice grew fainter as he slipped off into sleep again, and he leaned down to kiss his warm lips as the Count drifted away.

"Sleep," he murmured, brushing through his hair.

In a few more days he would be okay again, until then he was as weak and dependent as anyone. Rikugo planned on staying as long as he was needed -- and wanted.

tbc...