I originally started posting this story a year ago. During the 6 month writing process, I had many wonderful people leave me kind and helpful reviews. At the time, I said that in the future I might come back to this story and polish it up. Well, a few months after I posted the final chapter, I, like many people, suddenly found myself with a lot of time on my hands. So, I decided to make good on my threat and I set to work rewriting the chapters. Now, after a lot of elbow grease and the best Beta Reader that a writer could ask for (thanks Sapphire5!), here is new revised story. The plot remains unchanged, but some scenes have been added, and others were changed for clarity. While I thought the original version was good, I think you'll agree, this new one is better. I would be very grateful if you left a review to tell me what you think. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Even through his sunglasses the man had to squint against the glare of the bright sun. He sat in the driver's seat of a black sedan with his arm resting on the ledge of the open window, watching the traffic pass by on the street. Slow moving cars splashed through puddles pooling on the road from the melting snow. Spring was in the air and its freshness showed not only on the budding trees but also in the face of every person on the street. He took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window to have it whisked away by the crisp spring breeze.

"I still don't see him," said the driver.

Next to him, the man in the passenger seat lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one, then stubbed out the roach in the overflowing ash tray. Even with the window open, the interior of the car was hazy with smoke. Across the street from their parking spot were the ornate iron gates of the prestigious Ouran Academy.

"Be patient," With the cigarette held in the corner of his lips, the chain-smoking passenger laced his fingers together and stretched his arms above his head as far the low roof would allow. "There are still lots of people leaving."

A third man in the backseat leaned forward between the front seats. "What if we missed him? Most of the kids left right after the final bell. Maybe he got past us in the crowd?" All three pairs of eyes scanned the sidewalk in front of the school. Luxury cars were parked in a neat line along the entire length of the street, each with a uniformed chauffeur standing at its fender. Groups of girls in yellow uniform dresses waved and called farewells to each other. Boys in blue blazers horsed around on the sidewalk while their patient chauffeurs chatted with each other across the lengths of their cars.

"We didn't miss him." The man in the passenger seat blew out a long stream of smoke. The driver grunted and flicked ash from his cigarette out the window.

"Let me see the kid's picture again," said the driver. The passenger rolled his eyes and dug through the glove box in front of him. He pulled out a blown-up photo of an Ouran Academy ID.

"Rich and good looking. If there's any justice in this world he'll have the brains of cow," said the passenger, glancing at photo before handing it over.

The driver took it and studied it for the hundredth time. The boy staring out at him from the photo was thin, dark featured, with a fringe haircut. His thin framed glasses couldn't hide his handsome brown eyes or razor-sharp cheek bones. This kid could make it as an actor or a J-pop idol, he thought.

The man in the back leaned forward and plucked the photo from the driver's hand. "I feel sort of bad doing this to a kid. I mean, geez, he's only in second year."

"Then don't." The passenger turned in his seat to glare at the man in the back. "I'd be happy to split the pay off two ways instead of three if you've suddenly decided to grow a conscious."

"I didn't say wouldn't do it," he said with a shrug. "I just don't get what anyone would want with a kid. You don't think the guy is a pervert or something?"

"So what if he is? What difference does it make? We're getting paid to do one job. What the client does with the kid afterwards isn't our concern."

"Right," said the driver. "Now how about you two just shut your traps and pay attention to the street. We don't want to let him slip by."

Stony silence settled on the car as the men turned their focus back onto the street.

The sound of their footsteps echoed through the breezeway bordering the Ouran Academy courtyard. A gentle wind swirled around the trees' early spring buds, weaved through the breezeway columns, and tripped along the still empty flower beds. Even after completing a gruelling Knights in Shining Armour host event, the Ouran Highschool Host Club couldn't help but feel energized by the first fresh spring day of the season.

"Quick, Haruhi! Grab Tono and hold him!" Hikaru rushed towards the blond boy, holding a slushy snowball gathered from the dirty piles of remaining snow.

"I'm not helping you with this." Haruhi ducked out of the way as Kaoru launched a sloppy snow projectile that just grazed Tamaki's shoulder.

"Oh, you two are going to regret that!" said Tamaki, stooping to make a slushball of his own. With dramatic flair he leapt up on to a stone bench and took aim at his pair of adversaries. "You start this battle at your own peril!" His throw sailed harmlessly in between the twins. They scampered ahead laughing as Tamaki chased after them.

"Tama-chan isn't going to catch them," said Honey. He was trotting in between Haruhi and Kyoya with Mori following one step behind.

"He never does," said Haruhi.

"He never learns," added Kyoya. "What a moron."

The group wandered out of the school's main gate onto the front street where their cars waited. There were still a few students exiting the campus as various after school sports teams and clubs finished, but most people were gone and only a few cars were still parked along the street awaiting their charges.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," said Haruhi as she turned to walk to the train station.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride?" asked Honey. "I can have my driver drop you off."

"No, thanks. My dad will be home, and he always makes a fuss when one of your fancy cars stops by. It's exhausting to deal with. It's easier if I take the train." She gave a cursory farewell wave to the twins and Tamaki who were still chasing after each other and headed off down the street.

Kyoya spotted his driver at the far end of the street. Mori and Honey's drivers were waiting in the other direction. The twins had locked themselves in their car and were infuriating Tamaki by making rude faces at him through the window. Kyoya nodded farewell to Honey and Mori and made his way to down the street towards his car.

Across the street, three men in a car suddenly sat up straight.

"Is that him? I think that's him. Let me see the picture." The driver snatched the photo, looking at the boy on the street then down at the picture and back. "It's him."

"He's almost to his car," said the chain smoker. "Hurry up! Go! Go!"

Tossing his cigarette out the window, the driver threw the car into gear, cranked the wheel over hard, and stomped on the accelerator. Horns blared as the car rocketed down the street, swerving to miss oncoming traffic.

"Kyoya! Wait!" Kyoya was halfway down the street when Tamaki came running up behind him and caught him by the shoulder. "Before you go, I wanted to ask you—"

Tamaki's question was cut off by the sound of squealing tires. The boys turned as a black car with tinted windows screeched to a stop next to them. Two large men exploded from the car and flanked the pair. Hands grabbed Kyoya by the arms and started pulling him towards the open door of the car.

"What are you doing? Wait! Stop!" Tamaki lunged to grab hold of Kyoya's jacket. "Kyoya!" He tried to pull his friend back but one of the men struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

The sight of Tamaki falling to the ground jarred Kyoya out of his stunned inaction. "Tamaki!" He struggled to free himself from the men's grip, but their hands were like vices on his arms. He thrashed and kicked out trying to connect with the shins of his assailants. "Tamaki!" He screamed as they tried to push him into the car. One of the men had his hand on the back of Kyoya's neck and was trying to push his head down through the door. Fighting, Kyoya jerked his head up just as someone behind him gave a solid push causing his cheek to smash into the car's doorframe. Kyoya tasted the sudden rush of blood in his mouth. Another shove on his back drove his face against the frame a second time before the men were able to force his head into the car.

Dazed by the blow to his face, Kyoya pitched forward onto the dark back seat. Cigarette smoke enveloped him and he choked on the overwhelming stench. He scrambled back towards the door trying to bolt back out into the sunlight. In an instant, the men were piling in after him, knocking him back hard. The door swung closed and it seemed like slow motion. Terror and blackness swallowed him up as the sunlight from outside shrank away. Just as the light had dwindled to a tiny sliver around the door, it was wrenched open and everything began running at full speed again. A hand reach in and grabbed the collar of the closest man. Before Kyoya could blink, both men had disappeared out the door.

Kyoya sat stunned on the seat, staring at the bright light streaming through the door. A shadow darkened the door and Kyoya shrank back.

"Master Kyoya, are you alright?" It was Tachibana, his bodyguard. Calm and composed, he leaned through the doorway and held out his hand. Kyoya took the offered hand and climbed out of the car. Back in the bright sunlight of the street, the two attackers were lying face down on the ground with Aijima, his second bodyguard, standing over them while on his phone to the police. His third bodyguard, Hotta, was growling as he dragged the driver of the car around to join his accomplices in the dirt.

Shaking from adrenaline, Kyoya stared down at the would-be kidnappers. Tachibana was talking to his other team members, but Kyoya was too unfocused to understand what he was saying. A thought snapped into his mind.

"Tamaki!" Kyoya grabbed Tachibana's arm. "Where's Tamaki?" He suddenly felt frantic with panic. "Where is he?"

"I'm here!" The voice came from behind him. Kyoya turned and almost fell over backwards as a tight hug enveloped him. A flood of emotions washed over him and he had to hold on to Tamaki's jacket to stay standing. The threat of hot tears pricked at his eyes as he buried his head into his friend's shoulder. He couldn't stop himself from trembling. He pulled back from the embrace and tried to take deep breaths.

Still hanging onto Kyoya's arms, Tamaki watched his friend gulp down air. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" A bruise was already forming on his cheek where it had hit the door frame. A trickle of blood was leaking from his mouth. Tamaki reached up and brushed his thumb across Kyoya's cheek.

"I'm fine." He brushed Tamaki's hand away. "What about you?" Kyoya took a full look at Tamaki. Blood smeared the side of his face. It looked horrendous, but closer inspection showed that it was only from a small cut across his cheekbone where the man had hit him.

Sirens and flashing lights rolled up on the street and half a dozen police officers poured out of their cars and swarmed over the kidnappers.

"Master Kyoya," Tachibana came up and touched his shoulder. "We need to get you home. The police will be coming to take your statement."

"Tachibana, what just happened? Who are these men?" said Kyoya.

"Later, Master Kyoya. Right now, we need to go before the media shows up. The police will sort this out," Tachibana gestured towards the end of the street where their car was still waiting.

"But what about-"

"Sir, please get in the car!"

Kyoya snapped his mouth closed. He had only heard Tachibana speak to him in that hard tone a handful of times in his life. It was a tone that demanded obedience. Tachibana turned to Tamaki. "Do you have transportation home, Suoh-san?"

"My driver is here." Tamaki indicated the uniformed chauffeur standing a few steps behind them. Tachibana took a moment to speak to Tamaki's driver then indicated that Kyoya should head to the car.

Kyoya moved to head towards his waiting car but Tamaki's hand on his wrist pulled him back. "Kyoya, are you sure you're okay?" Tamaki's striking blue eyes were full of concern. Kyoya gave him a nod and a faint half smile before Tachibana put a hand on his shoulder and steered him down the street. Tamaki stood, watching his friend leave until his car pulled away, then turned to climb into his own.

"And you're sure they didn't say anything? They didn't address you by name?"

"Like I said, they just jumped out and grabbed me, nothing else."

Two Metropolitan Police officers sat across the coffee table from Kyoya in the family study scribbling hasty notes in pocket-sized notebooks while he held an ice pack to his swollen face. His father was next to him on the settee. To the uninitiated, he looked calm, but Kyoya could feel the fury radiating off him. Ootori Yoshio was silent as the police questioned his son, but Kyoya saw him glance over several times and share a look with the chief of the Ootori family's private police force, the Black Onion Squad, who was leaning against the sideboard near the door.

"And as far as you know, you've never met any of these men before?"

"No. I told you before, I don't know them. I've never seen them before," snapped Kyoya. It had been hours since the attack and people hadn't stopped grilling him with questions. He was exhausted and irritated. His father put a hand on his shoulder that reminded him that he needed to be polite to the officers. Biting his tongue, Kyoya adjusted the ice pack against his face. His jaw ached.

As soon as they had arrived home, Tachibana had propelled him into the study, sat him down on the couch, and told him not to move. Leaving Aijima to guard the doorway, Tachibana had disappeared to report to Yoshio, Kyoya's father. Kyoya sat up straight with his hands neatly folded in his lap staring at a blank spot on the wall across from him. It didn't occur to him to move or ask any questions. He didn't think about sitting quietly, he just did it. It wasn't until his parents rushed into the room an indeterminate amount of time later that thoughts started streaming through his mind again.

His father perched on the couch next to him, and with the careful eye of a physician, began to examine his injured face. He asked Kyoya simple questions about what day it was and what he had had for breakfast that morning. He watched Kyoya's pupils and checked his pulse at his wrist. All the while his mother paced around the room, leaving and then coming back in only to leave again. Finally, he was ordered to stand and strip to the waist. Unsure why, Kyoya did what he was told, shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, and tossing them over the arm of the couch.

He was surprised to see angry black bruises on his upper arms where the men had grabbed and held him. Turning around at his father's prompting, he heard him mutter about bruises on his back as he palpated along his spine. Satisfied that there were no other injuries beyond the visual bruises, Yoshio called for Tachibana who came in and started taking pictures of the marks on Kyoya's face and body. When he was finished, Kyoya was instructed to get dressed and wait while everyone else left the room.

Kyoya could hear people speaking in the hallway. Footsteps rushed back and forth outside the room. Just on the other side of the door Kyoya could sense the buzz of activity and haste, but inside the room no one was talking to him. Wasn't anyone going to tell him what was going on? Had they somehow forgotten him? He shook his head and reminded himself to be patient.

He had just finished buttoning his shirt when his father came back into the room along with the two police officers, the Black Onion chief, and an ice pack for his face. Sitting back down, the officers asked him to recount what had happened that afternoon. Pressing the ice to his cheek, he eyed the officers across from him. They were detectives dressed in poorly fitting off-the-rack suits. The older one was tall, with thinning hair, and bored eyes. The younger one was rounder with an easy, relaxed manner. Kyoya thought he had never seen two more average looking people in his life. They did not inspire him with confidence.

He did his best to describe the chaotic scene from that afternoon, but everything in his mind was such a jumble that it was difficult to put details into the proper order. Had he screamed for help before or after Tamaki got hit? What direction had the car come from? What were the men wearing? It was difficult to remember. He struggled to put the experience into something linear and comprehensible.

As soon as he finished, the detectives began bombarding him with questions. Often, they would ask the same question multiple times using different words. Kyoya had questions of his own, but every time he tried to ask one the officers turned it aside and asked something else. It was frustrating and Kyoya's answers became more and more clipped as his irritation grew. The interview dragged on and Kyoya couldn't understand what these officers wanted from him.

"I've told you everything I know. I don't remember anything else." Kyoya shoulders sagged from exhaustion. "I don't know how many times I can keep telling you the same story over and over." The adrenaline from earlier had faded and left him feeling drained. He was starting to feel the pain from the bruises on his back and arms.

"Gentlemen, I think that's enough for now," said Yoshio. "If my son thinks of anything else, we'll be sure to call you."

The officers glanced at each other and reluctantly stood. "Our apologies. It's getting late. We should let you get some rest. Thank you for your time, Ootori-san." With a bow they moved towards the door.

"Wait," Kyoya stood and took a step to follow. "Aren't you going to tell me what's going on? Who were those men?"

"Kyoya, sit down," said his father.

"Now wait a minute. I want to know—"

"Kyoya! Sit down!"

His father's voice hit him like a fist and Kyoya sat down hard. Yoshio escorted the officers to the front door, leaving Kyoya in the study with the Black Onion chief who regarded the boy with silent sympathy.

Yoshio stepped back into the room. His poise and graciousness in front of the police disappeared, replaced with cold rage. "Chief, I want our own people on this and I want it dealt with quickly."

"Yes, sir. I already have my best men on it. We know where he is. He'll be picked up within the hour."

"What do you think his intention was with Kyoya?" Yoshio paced the length of the room tapping his fists together. "Was this a murder attempt?"

"Murder?" Kyoya couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Who are you talking about? Why would someone want to kill me?"

"Don't interrupt, Kyoya."

Kyoya stood up in a fury. "If someone is trying to murder me, I think I have a right to know! Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?"

His father turned gave him a fierce glare but Kyoya held his gaze. After a tense moment, Yoshio broke eye contact and looked at the chief. "Tell him."

"Well, ah," Glancing between father and son, the chief cleared his throat. "Some months ago, there was an employee, an assistant vice president of one of the Ootori Group's subsidiaries. He was caught defrauding the company and terminated. Since then we have received some anonymous threats against the family. We figured they were coming from him, but we had no proof. Now we do since those men who tried to kidnap you confessed to being hired by him. They were not, however, able to tell us what he was planning to do with you."

Kyoya shook his head. This didn't make any sense. "But why would he want to kill me? I didn't have anything to do with him getting fired."

The chief crossed his arms and gave a half shrug. "I don't think he was actually intending to kill you, Ootori-san. Those thugs sitting in lockup have known ties to the Yakuza. You could say that they are professionals. If they had wanted you dead, they wouldn't have taken the risk of trying to kidnap you first."

Kyoya felt lightheaded and had to sit down again. Visions of being shot or stabbed on the street swam before his eyes. "Then, why did they want me?"

Seeming not to notice Kyoya's sudden paleness, the chief continued. "Most often in cases involving members of wealthy families, the goal of the perpetrator is to hold the kidnapped victim for ransom. We think that was the intent here."

Kyoya nodded. He had heard of such things. It made sense. He stared at floor. He wanted to vomit. There were too many things to think about and he couldn't keep them straight in his mind. His father's hand on his shoulder focused his attention again.

"It's late, Kyoya. You should go to bed."

With an absent nod, Kyoya left the study and climbed the stairs towards his bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, he paused to look around his room. After all the chaos it seems strange to find everything in its normal orderly state: the spotless white sofa, the organized bookshelf, the kidney shaped coffee table polished until it shone. Everything was just as he had left it that morning which now seemed so long ago. Passing by his bubbling fish tank, he dumped his jacket on his desk and climbed the stairs to his bed in the loft. Not bothering to brush his teeth, wash his face, or even undress, he curled up on his bed and turned off the light.

He lay in the dark listening to his breath and heartbeat. The room around him was still with moonlight from the window casting a soft glow on the wall at the foot of his bed. Everything was silent except for the growing pounding in his chest. His breathing became faster.

He reached up and slapped on the light. Taking deep breaths, he clutched his pillow and shuddered. The light stayed on for the rest of the night.