IMPORTANT to former readers! PLEASE BEFORE YOU GO ON FURTHER: I'D LIKE TO TELL YOU THAT THIS IS THE SECOND HALF OF THE ORIGINAL PART FIVE… WHICH I DIVIDED, MAJORLY REVISED, & EDITED… so if you've read the original part 5 and had gone straight here please go back because it has been redone… THANKS…

Disclaimer: This is getting tiresome really… you guys should know by now that this author own nothing here except the hopelessly clichéd plot…

A/N: Author gapes stupidly at the sight of the computer screen… 75 reviews! Awww… THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS MINNA SAN! (Big Bone-cracking Bear hug to all!) Author is on sugar high again as somebody at home brought a pack of chocolates… so bear with perkiness…

Anyway…I still find it quite hard to believe that there are actually people who enjoyed reading this fic… I'm bored and I'm itching to do something not related to some blasted schoolwork, so I just decided to fix chapter five and divide it into two chapters… making it longer, clearer, and hopefully less confusing to myself (coz I read this again today and I lost myself along the way) and to the readers, and also because I think that I jumped quite suddenly from one part to the next… plus I had to correct the grammar and spelling errors coz the original chap was groggily typewritten from midnight till three in the morning. : )

Quick notes on reviews:

To Spawn of Hell: thanks again… and yes I love clichés … confidence? not when I'm stressed coz I tend to become kinda befuddled to be confident (sigh… thanks for the tip though… maybe I'll have it back once I can breathe fresh air again..: )

To heaven goddess: I know you hate cliffies… sorry coz somehow I'm not even aware that I'm ending with cliffies till after I finished a chap… gomenasai… : )

To Hellcat81: I agree, the original chap was strange and a bit melodramatic (still is)… I get carried away sometimes…and you can breathe a sigh of relief coz this will not be one of those sleeping beauty thingies… that would be taking the clichédness of this story up ten notches or higher… and I'm not aiming that high…

To Double: Er.. sorry to disappoint you… it would be interesting, but it's gonna make this fic way too overrated than it already is… maybe next time… (and while I agree that kenken's a beauty, I think aya will be a much better sleeping beauty… chuckles!)

To rainne: sidetracked huh? Maybe… but then… no more too heavy angst or else this fic might end up (tragically)…

To ae ran: thanks for the suggestion, maybe in the future I might be able to finally write in novel style which is a dream of mine… unless of course I'd have free time for those writing classes I've always wanted to attend… sigh… so for now… anything goes… : )

To Karen, Silverfrost, Chitoshiya to Tohma, Invisible fan, sc17: thanks… : )

PLEASE R&R MINNA SAN and do tell if you think I made the right choice of dividing Chap 5 or should I have just kept the original? So sorry if I've confused everyone…

Anyway, here's the next part…

FROST by 影黒川

Part VI Sleeping Beauty (A/N: err…just because I find it amusing okay?)

Voices amidst whitewashed halls…

"What happened out there Youji?" Sad.

"I don't really know Omi. You tell me." Confusion.

"Youji-"

"I knew we shouldn't have let him come. He seemed quite unstable when he arrived."

"There's nothing we can do about that now. All we can do is wait." That really all they can do.

"He took one to the stomach and one in the leg. He was grazed on the head… among other things…" voice faltering, remembering.

"He's never this careless. I know that he could lose control sometimes but he's not this… sloppy. Not with the missions anyway. Something's has been eating him up." An observation. True enough but for one.

"Not something. Someone. Make that someone a cold, red-headed bastard…" Barely concealed anger.

Slight nod.

A glare from one end of the wall.

"I'm not deaf, Kudou."

"Oh really. Blind perhaps?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Can't handle it straight Fujimiya?"

"…" Turning away.

"Yeah that's it. Walk away. Avoid the issue. You've always been so good at that. Coward."

Turning back.

And a body was painfully slammed against the wall.

Violet eyes unreadable. Resentment? Guilt? Pain?

Who knows?

Green orbs that defiantly stare back cannot tell.

"You don't know what you're talking about Kudou." Icy monotone. "So just butt out."

"Guys stop this." Pleading. "Not here."

"No chibi. We deal with this here and now." Daring.

"No." Pale hands slowly letting go.

"Yes. It maybe none of our fuckin' business, but when your issues begin to affect this team, and someone goes suicidal on missions, it becomes our fuckin' problem too."

"It's Hidaka who's got a problem. Not me."

"Really? I'd say Hidaka is your problem."

"..."

"Why the hell do you fight it? In our line of work, a chance like this comes so rare…"

"I didn't enter this 'line of work' to get 'this rare chance'."

And so I walk away…

xxx

The special ward in the hospital reserved for and by Kritiker was presently occupied by three people. The patient and two visitors.

The young patient who is in a comatose state was wrapped up in bandages, like a mummy. Tubes were connected in various parts of his body. Poor thing. Several broken ribs and some nasty bruises. And it had taken several hours to remove the bullets from his system. The brunette was very fortunate that none of the major organs were disrupted. A miracle, one could say.

Youji would agree. He guessed that something out there really watches over fools and suicidal idiots.

Omi is just thankful to find his friend still breathing.

After the operation, a doctor came out to say that it was a success. And that it was up to Ken's will now. The patient is stable but critical. He then said something disturbing. There were marks on Ken's hand. Cuts made just a day or two ago that were too precise to be inflicted by a second person.

The two blondes flinched slightly at the news.

The younger of the frowned and thought that maybe he should've tried harder to get Kenkun to talk to him before.

The other one clenched his fist wanting to bash it hard into a certain pretty face currently closing the shop alone.

The doctor gravely suggested that the patient might need some sort of psychiatric treatment when he recovers.

If he recovers…

xxx

And it's been five weeks since then.

Still, blue-green eyes refused to open to meet the world…

Almost everyday two blondes could often be seen entering that small quaint room. Sometimes separately, sometimes together. Always bearing some kind of flower or plant. They'd often stay awhile. By now the room's occupant had been free of some tubes and bandages. The bruises that had marred that handsome face had visibly lightened. Almost gone really. The cuts and gashes in the patient's palms and arms had also healed. Some were superficial. Some not too deep. And a few required stitches. The two visitors had decided on their own to have a lengthy discussion with the brunette when sleeping beaty wakes up.

Sleeping beauty. One could snicker at the nickname given to the patient by one of the attending nurses after the facial injuries had healed to revealed an appealing visage underneath. But a sleeping beauty he was nevertheless.

Aside from the noticeable physiological improvements, no other changes can be seen, as sleeping beauty remained sleeping the days away…

The day's visitors would just talk a bit, tell stories… from everyday stories about the current shop life, the mundane school life, something about those rabid fangirls sending their greetings among other things to the ahem 'intriguing' and 'amusing' conquests of a certain Casanova… and then take their leave with a smile and that tinge of sadness in their eyes that tells one how much they miss their cataleptic friend.

At night, however, unknown and unseen by the wakeful, another visitor comes. Silently. His presence acknowledged only by the shadows in which he treads. He walks down the hospital halls in very light steps that one won't be able to hear the footfalls unless one listen very carefully. This particular visitor would always come by very late and enter the room stealthily before sitting by patient's bedside till before the sun rises. And then leaves as silently as he had arrived, never a hint that he was ever there at all.

These nightly visits had been quite habitual. But the man had never been caught before. Always he would come and go at the same time. Always he would sit at the same spot and take the same position. Moving only to conceal his form when some nurse checks in at midnight. And then return to his original place on this chair by the bed holding a limp hand between his pale slender ones.

He cannot say why he is here. He will not dare rationalize himself. Because when he is in that room all he does is think about the young man lying in bed and look with unfathomable eyes for possible changes in the patient's body. A subtle movement perhaps? Or maybe a small twitch… any sign that the brunette was fighting to live… Anything…

He couldn't cry. And if he had tears, he would not dare shed them here… that's what he keeps telling himself… every night, over and over, he would tell himself this as he sits by the bedside without fail… and closes his weary eyes to join the bed's occupant for a brief time in peaceful slumber… before light comes…

xxx

February 13. 11:00 p.m. Footsteps trudged heavily outside Ken Hidaka's room. The door opened carelessly as a black clothed figure barges in with quiet but uneasy steps. A strong smell penetrated the room. Beer? Tequila? Vodka? Whiskey? All of the above?

The visitor reeled toward a chair as opposed to the usual silent grace and sloppily sat down. He looked at the figure sleeping on the bed with familiar yet clouded eyes. Sleeping? He snorted. The younger man looked dead to the world.

He shoddily brushed the red hair that fell on his face as he carefully assessed the patient.

How long has it been?

Three weeks? A month? More?

Damn. Why the hell wouldn't he just wake up? An urge came to just shake the brunette silly 'til he awakes.

Amethyst eyes glittered dangerously with indescribable… emotions. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Pain. Hope. Madness. Drunkenness… and something quite a bit more. Passion? Lust? Or something deeper?

The visitor sighed quite loudly.

He hated hospitals. He always had. So why was he here again?

Oh yeah. His alcohol-fogged mind kind of remembered the sleeping patient.

A flash of anger covered his flushed face.

He hates Ken Hidaka… He really does…

He hates Ken's optimism. The way the brunette could just smile at the world like an idiot in the middle of the day when at night he would embed his claws on some scum's body. Filthy scum, but still…

He hates the way Ken tended to be clumsy at times… make that most of the time… I mean come on, how many times can a person trip on the same spot… and looking at the soccer player's impassive figure, he frowned… this is one of the reasons why… the brunette's carelessness always catches his attention… It makes him feel… concern. That much… in his liquor-induced mind, he will admit.

He also hates the way the brunette would come back from coaching soccer… all hot and sweaty and drawing heavy breaths while strutting his ass (correction: gorgeous, luscious looking ass) (A/N: author whacked for not being able to resist! chuckles) inside the shop… it makes him think of naughty, inappropriate things… things he'd like to do… to the brunette… with the brunette... the read headed visitor violently shake his head in an effort to do away with the images and failing miserably… as always… damn, he hates distractions…

Most of all, he hate Ken Hidaka's guts. He hates Ken for kissing him. For blurting out that he loves him… he absolutely hates the fact that the brunette had the nerve to do something he could not… act on his emotions and take the risk. He cannot act on his emotions. He cannot take the risks. He was more than eager to deny everything he ever felt.

And then Ken just had to go do a Bezerker on everyone.

Of all the foolish, idiotic, reckless things to do.

Ken decided to play dirty.

The soccer player resorted to… blackmail.

Damn him!

The brunette pushed Aya Fujimiya into a corner and forced him to come to terms with so many things that he had been trying to get away from.

It almost intensified the anger he felt.

Towards the brunette.

Towards himself.

Towards the situation they are in.

It made him admit to himself the real reason why he hated Ken… it was because…

Ken made him feel… something… Period.

He made him feel the warmth once more.

When he chose to exile himself into his cold, dark world years ago he never expected to feel the comfort of warmth. Ever. In fact, he had almost forgotten it. He never anticipated feeling this burning fire of passion rage inside him. He had gotten so used to the chilling flames of blind vengeance.

Of revenge.

For a long time, revenge was all he had been living for. It was all that mattered. His whole being is set upon this straight path. He did not care whether he lived or died, just as long as his thirst for his justice is quenched. It was all so simple. And he would have been content with that.

That's why he keeps pushing Ken away. The younger man is teaching him to look forward to some kind of bright future. To want to live life. To want to feel solace in open arms… as if wanting to offer some sort of salvation… a life where he could actually be happy again.

And in the recesses of his mind he thought that once he thought that the blonde playboy maybe right about him having issues about being happy. But of course he rather eat dung willingly than admit that to anybody.

Why can't anybody understand?

He cannot afford to be happy. He cannot afford to do anything without first getting his retribution.

But even in his (semi?) drunken state, he knew denial doesn't work anymore.

Yes.

He still wanted his bloody revenge. But he wanted to have a life while waiting for that day to finally happen. And look forward to something beyond that.

Yes.

He wanted to feel the warmth again. The comfort of human warmth. He's been too cold for too long.

Yes, he was now willing to take the risk. The choice had been made for him as he looks at the patient on the bed. It had been wrung from him as he carried the unconscious bleeding body that fateful night.

Yes.

He wanted Ken Hidaka. Badly. Way before that night in the hallway….

He wanted Ken…

No.

He…

He sighed.

He leaned over the still form beneath the white sheets.

Such a pretty face, even in the dark.

He gave in.

Lips touched.

Briefly.

It is midnight.

February 14.

Wake up, baka.

End Chappie…

Tbc…?

A/N: Sigh! Finally done. It took me four hours to edit the whole thing.

Ok, so how was this? Much better than when I crammed part 5 & 6 into one chapter? Or did I confuse you even more? do you prefer the old version? Do tell… please R&R… Chapter 7 will hopefully be done next week… hopefully…

Thanks again for the reviews… greatly appreciated… : )

See ya guys soon!

じゃまたあいましょお!