His eyes felt like someone had glued them together, and he had a massive headache.

Leon groaned, tried to rub his forehead and found he could not move his hands. His eyes snapped open despite the blaze of pain when the light hit them.

He was in a room made of rough concrete walls and tiles on the floor, and he was lying on his side, his hands and feet tied together in an uncomfortable position. A cellar, most likely. There seemed to be no natural light, only the glare of a lightbulb above him.

He moved his head carefully and realised that the rope wound around his feet and hands was also tied around his throat. He could feel it when he swallowed. The beginnings of panic started sneaking through him when he realised that if he moved his head too much, he would likely suffocate himself with the rope.

Shit. He was in one hell of trouble. But at least he seemed to be alone for the time being. That was something, at least. He could really do without Spencer Donald's face when waking up like this.

Carefully he moved his hands again only to find that the rope was definitely too tight for him to wriggle his hands out of it. Sighing a little, Leon gave up and closed his eyes again. Those Russian bouncers sure knew their job. He had not exactly expected anything different, though. Spencer Donald had had his reasons to hire them.

Right, how had he ended up here in the first place? The last thing he remembered was leaving HQ and walking towards his hotel to pick up his things. He had not been paying attention to his surroundings, and yes, that had been a bad idea, thankyouverymuch. In some or the other way, they had managed to get the drop on him. Trichloromethane or something like it, judging by how his head felt. On the other hand, he had really not been in the mood to care about vengeful business tycoons stalking him. He had been too busy with D, with the way they had taken their goodbyes as if they knew exactly that this was the last chance they would ever get at talking to each other.

If things went D's way, it probably had been. And Leon had been … too shocked and tired and worn out by recent events to be able to put up as much of a fight as he would otherwise have.

He opened his eyes, stared at the bland, grey wall and swallowed a few times. D. He was pretty much his only hope right now of getting out of this alive. Spencer Donald would never let him live, not with what he knew Leon had done to him. If he could just get a message to D, via a spider or a mouse or some other animal, maybe he would – maybe he would, for old time's sake, help Leon out of here. Surely, even if he stuck to what he had said about them not being friends, he would not want Leon to die. Would he?

He carefully craned his neck, looking around the barren room once more, hoping to catch sight of some animal, something small that might have made it in here and found the conditions to its liking.

He did not get far. A door opened behind his back and a voice spoke, sending a shudder through him.

"I see you have woken. Well, well. And what, Agent Orcot, shall I do with you now?"

"What are we doing here?" Tetsu sent him a half unbelieving, half confused look, but D could not be bothered about that right now. He looked up at the wall, wondering if anyone would take notice if he simply jumped over it.

"Oi! Count!"

He turned and almost glared at Tetsu. "What are we doing here?" he repeated and D bit his lip.

"We are saving Leon," he replied and turned back to the wall. Pon-chan grabbed his cheongsam and he did glare at her, now.

"Don't go in there! They're probably armed!"

D bit his lip again. "They most certainly are, Pon-chan, which is exactly why I need to go in there."

"You already called the police," Tetsu said, his voice edged with concern. "You don't have to go in there yourself. They'll be here any moment now. You called them from the car."

D shook his head and put a hand against the wall to steady himself, closing his eyes. His blood was rushing in his ears and he felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. He could not remember being this afraid, ever. "No," he whispered. "I cannot leave him in there."

With that, he took two steps back, bent his knees and jumped. His cheongsam was ripped out of Pon-chan's grasp, he heard both of them yell, but he was landing on the lawn inside the garden and straightening as quickly as he could, prepared to fight off whoever might be there.

The garden was empty. D took a deep breath, brushed off the silk and started walking.

"Count!" Tetsu yelled from outside the wall. "Come back here! Leon will be fine! Don't go in there!"

"You could be killed!" Pon-chan chimed in and D turned back to the wall.

"Stay where you are," he ordered, voice astonishingly calm. "I will be back once I have made sure Spencer will not kill Leon."

He ignored their voices as he moved further through the garden, past the huge swimming pool twinkling in the glaring summer sun, along the small path that wound around the house and led up to a set of glass doors he knew would most likely be open. They had to be open as per D's own orders, to allow the various animals free entrance to the house.

He had not yet made it there when a young woman came towards him from the bushes, smiling brightly. "Count! This is a surprise! What are you doing here?"

He stopped and returned the bird's smile as good as he could. "Estefania. Is your master home?"

She nodded, the smile diminishing somewhat. "He came earlier, with three men."

D forced himself to keep breathing. "Was one of them a young, blond American with blue eyes?"

She eyed him curiously. "I don't know if he was American, but he was young and blond. I couldn't see his eyes though. He was asleep. The two dark men were carrying him."

D's knees wanted to buckle. "Do you know what happened to him?"

She wrinkled her brow. "No. They took him to the Master's study and he closed the door. Why?"

"This man is a friend of mine, and I am afraid your master is about to hurt him very badly."

Her eyes widened. "No!"

"He has done something your master does not approve of. Estefania, I need you to help me find that man before something happens to him!"

The urgency in his voice seemed to convince her that arguments about her master's character could wait until later, and she nodded and turned back into the house. D followed immediately, barely taking notice of the expensive understated elegance around him. He used to enjoy being in Spencer Donald's villa. It was spacious, cool in the hot Italian summer and bore witness to the amount of money the man could spend on interior decorators. But now he wished fervently he had never set foot inside. If he had not accepted Spencer Donald as a customer, despite knowing his type, they would never have met at that party. Leon would not have asked him for help with the devices, they would not have gone to that stupid fundraiser and they would never have said all of those things that should have remained unsaid forever.

"In here," Estefania said, stopping in front of a heavy, dark door. D put a hand against the wood, preparing himself mentally.

Then he pushed it open.

The room was empty. His heart stopped beating for what felt like a very, very long moment. He turned to Estefania, who looked as confused as he was. "But I saw them go in there! I'm sure of it! And there's no other door inside!"

D could not say anything. His mouth was parched, his knees were weak, he was shaking. Leon. Oh heavens, Leon!

"Are you looking for the big guys?" a breathy voice asked from the direction of the desk. D spun around. Two young boys were sitting under the desk, pointed noses and round ears extended in their direction.

"Yes! Yes, we are!"

They giggled and exchanged glances. "They went downstairs."

D blinked. "Downstairs?"

One of them crawled out from under the desk and moved in the direction of the big bookshelf along one wall. "Oh yes. Through this door." He extended a hand, moved a few books and suddenly, with a charring sound, part of the bookshelf disappeared into the ground. D stared at it, not quite able to believe his eyes.

Then he hurried forward, almost running, and put a foot on the top of the shelf that had had now become the first step in a staircase leading down. The boy was still watching him, jet-black eyes gleaming. "How do I open it from downstairs?"

He smiled. "I'll come with you and show you."

D breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he picked up a familiar scent wafting up from the passage. "Yes, please."

He could hear the crack as the foot hit his chest, but the pain was blinding enough for Leon to not pay it too much attention right now. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning despite himself. He did not see the fist coming, but he felt it connect with his jaw. The rope tightened dangerously around his throat and for a second, he was scared to death that it would choke him.

Then he moved his head and found to his immense relief that there was still enough room for him to breathe, even if he could not take deep breaths anymore.

On the other hand, maybe it would be better to tighten the rope at this point. At the rate they were going, he was not sure how much longer he would be able to stand it. If only he was not so scared of being choked to death.

He opened his eyes when the next blow failed to fall to find the bouncers staring at him, their faces blank. Spencer Donald got up from his chair, leaning over to look him in the eyes, his expression hard and unforgiving. "So tell me, Mr. Orcot, before I have them finish you, how did you convince Count D to bring you into my house?"

He made no reply.

Spencer Donald got up and walked around him, his gaze travelling over his whole body. Leon did not move, did not give any sign that he took notice of him. "You don't want to tell me? Oh well, you don't actually need to. I can imagine, although I wouldn't have thought that someone like the Count would let himself be tricked by good looks." He clicked his tongue.

Another fist connected with his jaw. Leon's head was thrown to the side, the rope tightened, and he desperately held his breath. "I'll make sure to let him know about your betrayal once you are taken care of. Poor man. He is such a delicate being, and so kind to his animals! Really, it was most inconsiderate of you to choose him for your little undercover operation."

Soft steps came down the passage. Leon spat out blood and tried to breathe shallowly as he took stock. Two ribs at least, a few more bruised most likely. He glared up at the three men, quietly wondering if they had already spotted the intruder.

The question was answered a moment later when Spencer Donald suddenly rushed past him, clearly in an attempt to block the view of the person rounding the corner. "Count D! What brings you here? You really should've waited for me upstairs -"

"I think not." With the rope tied around his neck the way it was, Leon could not turn his head to look at D, but he felt him stepping up behind him where he was half kneeling, half lying on the floor, the silk whispering against his own clothes.

"My, my, Spencer. The poor agent." The voice was deceptively soft and genial. "Is it wise to beat up a member of Interpol? And such a marvellous specimen, too. It is a shame to damage his pretty face."

Surprised silence reigned the room while Leon permitted himself to close his eyes and smirk just a little bit, his heart giving a painful tug. D. D at his very best.

"You – I was not aware you knew this crook was Interpol, Count." Donald sounded off-balance, uncertain. Not surprising. Leon could not help the smirk getting a bit wider. A hand came to rest on his head and almost unconsciously, he leant into the touch.

"Mr. Orcot and I have been acquainted for a long time. While I was surprised at his new career choice, I was not at all surprised to find he had stayed in law enforcement after my fairly abrupt departure from his hometown a few years ago."

"But -"

By the tone of his voice, Leon could tell that D had raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Spencer?"

The man sputtered. "He – if you knew, why did you -"

It rose even higher, judging by the sarcasm. "Oh, Spencer, you poor man. Appearances can be so deceiving, can they not? If you had not decided to think of me as a homosexual pretty much from the start, you would hardly have been so naive. Mr. Orcot and I have never had the kind of relationship you assumed. However, it – suited me to let you believe whatever you wanted about the two of us."

"You lied to me!"

D was twirling a strand of hair around his fingers now. Leon leant closer to him, wanting to wrap his arms around his legs like he was a child. "I most certainly did not. You let yourself see what you wanted to believe."

"You brought him into my house knowing full well what he was up to?" Spencer Donald almost sounded hurt. "After all the things I did for you, this is how you repay me?"

D snorted softly. "After all the things you did for me, indeed. What have you ever done for me that I could not have achieved of my own? Do not delude yourself into believing that it was you who introduced me to the high society of Rome. My grandfather was supplying the rich and powerful of this town with pets before your great-grandfather was even born. You have done nothing to earn my gratitude. Mr. Orcot, on the other hand – had good arguments on his side."

Spencer Donald snarled. "Did he now?"

"Oh yes." D's fingers were still softly massaging his head and Leon felt himself relax despite the ropes around his body. "And not the kind that you have, again, immediately assumed. But we digress. The Polizia di Stato received an anonymous tip-off half an hour ago that the Interpol agent sent to help them has not boarded his flight and was instead seen being taken to your villa in your limousine. I expect they will be here shortly, so I will leave you a choice. You can either surrender without a fight and let me leave this ghastly room with Mr. Orcot, or I shall make sure the police will not meet with much resistance once they arrive."

Leon felt a cold shudder run down his back at those words. "D -"

"Hush, Leon." The voice was cold. "Mr. Donald needs to make a decision."

Leon heard a snort and squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to witness what was going to happen now. The click told him too clearly what Spencer Donald had decided on, and he wished he could get the man to see reason before he signed his own death warrant.

"I don't know who you think you are, Count, but let me tell you one thing: Coming here with no weapons was not a wise choice. You should have waited for the police. Well, I don't care either way. Interpol agents! Useless little fuckers! They don't even have any jurisdiction!"

"Spencer, I would advise you to think well before you pull that trigger." D's voice was sharp now, with nothing of the lofty, dry amusement left in it. "I am not joking. I am merely asking you to release Mr. Orcot out of politeness. Whatever his profession, I am not interested in his demise, and certainly not at your hands. If Mr. Orcot should die one fine day, rest assured that it will be by my hand."

Another shudder ran down Leon's spine. He could not help it, yet the fingers were still caressing him. Spencer Donald's voice sounded baffled. "What?"

"He has killed my father. For better or worse, Leon Orcot is mine, and I will not permit anyone else to lay hands on him." D's voice sounded completely flat. Leon opened his eyes, unable to see more than the knees of the men in front of him. "D -"

"Well then, kill them both."

The shot echoed in the small room. Leon fell on his side, D's hand pushing him down with such force that he let out a small cry at his ribs being jostled. There was silk in front of him, the hem of D's cheongsam, and it was moving in a flurry too fast for him to follow. More shots resounded, mixed with cries of pain. Leon wriggled against his bonds, trying to free himself. "D!" he yelled. Someone screamed. A heavy thud on the floor, then another. Leon gasped at the bouncer staring at him.

Then the eyes closed and blood oozed out of the man's nose. From the corner of his eye, he could see D and Spencer Donald, the latter hanging in the air, D's small, delicate hand around his throat. His left arm was hanging at his side, the silken sleeve soaked with red. "D!"

"I warned you, Spencer," D said quietly. "Every time you entered my shop, I gave you another warning that you should never underestimate me. But you, in the true fashion of the men like you, decided to ignore my warnings. Now face the consequences."

Spencer Donald's face turned blue. His eyes rolled up and his body slackened. D held on for a moment longer before he opened his hand and the heavy man landed on the floor with a sickening thud.

Leon closed his eyes and hoped he was still alive.

"Leon!" D gasped, ignoring the pain in his arm and hurrying over to the fallen man. "What is the matter?"

His breath was coming in shallow gasps, the face terribly pale. D remembered similar occasions and fear again took hold of him. He quickly cut through the ropes, then clasped Leon's face, willing him to open his eyes. "Look at me, Leon! Where are you hurt?"

The eyes opened and D almost sobbed at the pain in them. "Broke two of my ribs," Leon said, his voice barely a breathy whisper. "Shit. Think one of them is about to puncture my lung."

"No!"

He barely recognised his own voice and Leon mustered a smile. One hand came up to push a strand of hair out of D's face, then cupped his cheek. "It's okay. It's okay. I've had worse."

"You need to go to hospital at once." D tried to stand only to find that the hand was holding him down. Leon leant his head forward until it came to rest on D's shoulder. "Leon, please! Let me go fetch help."

"No way, D." The voice was still only a whisper. "They shot you, didn't they? If you go upstairs now, they'll want to take a look at you. You can't risk that. Just stay here with me until you hear them coming, will you?"

Tears were choking him. "You don't understand! They won't find this room without help. It is hidden underneath the basement. The door only opens by using a mechanism. I need to show them the way, otherwise they will never find you in time."

Leon made a sound that could have been a chuckle. "How'd you find it, then?"

D's hand fisted itself into Leon's stained shirt. "The mice showed me."

Another sound that could have been a chuckle. "Shoulda known. Are they dead?"

Why the man would think about the scum currently adorning the floor was beyond D, but he replied. "Paolo Cocuzzi would not thank me for that, would he now? They are alive, although I expect that they will spend several days in hospital once they wake up."

A soft chuckle as Leon's other hand reached for his. "Thanks."

"Leon, let me go." Besides the fact that D had no idea how to react to this statement, Leon's blood was oozing onto his cheongsam, and while the garment was ruined for good, he had no intention of permitting the man to suffer the same fate. "Detective, I did not save you back in that tower only to watch you die in this cellar."

"No? Then what'd you save me for? To take revenge on me later, for your dad?"

D slowly shook his head, his throat corded up. "I never harboured any desire to watch you die, Leon. Ever."

The blue eyes were hazy. It would not take long before Leon would slip into unconsciousness, and that meant that D needed to get help now. He caressed the cheek, half-dried blood leaving smears on his hands. There was another half-smile playing around Leon's mouth. "Guess that goes for me as well." His hand tightened in D's cheongsam. "Wouldn't want to watch you die, ever. Don't want to see you put away, either. So you stay here with me and don't let them see you. These Italian officers, they're suspicious boys."

D swallowed. It was surprisingly difficult. "I can handle it. You have seen me do so in the past."

Leon shook his head, opening his eyes a little wider. "You're soaked in blood and there's three badly injured men in this room. What d'you think they're gonna make of that? Besides, your arm is bleeding like nothing good."

He hardly spared a glance at the injured limb and the flowers blooming underneath it. "It is nothing."

"It's not."

"It is. It will heal in a few minutes. You, on the other hand, will not." D tried to stand once more and was again held back by the weight in his arms.

"D, it's alright. I found you. That's all that matters. I found you and once this is over, you're gonna leave again, and I'll be left looking for you all over the world once more." Leon's eyes kept falling close. The tears stung in his eyes as D listened, unable to speak, bitter regret warring with fear. "Better to die here, isn't it? While you're still here. You can hold my hand and see me off."

"What am I supposed to tell Chris?" he whispered, the first tear falling. Leon smiled. "I cannot possibly tell him that I watched you die. Moreover, before I let you return his drawing to me."

"He'll understand. Tell him that I love him, will ya?"

It was unbearable, how much sense Leon could make all of a sudden, at the worst possible time.

D bent his head and pressed their foreheads together. There was blood on Leon's, spilling from a cut in his scalp, right above his eye, but D found he couldn't care less. When he pulled back, his breath was as shallow and hectic as Leon's and his eyes were burning. "I will not," he said, his voice strong and decided.

Before Leon could say another word, he pushed back his hair and stared into his eyes, concentrating on the spell. "Stay. Do not move until help arrives. Most importantly, Leon, stay alive!"

Being human, Leon was unable to resist. D could see it in his eyes, how he tried to fight it before resignation took over and he closed his eyes. He gently lowered him to the floor, making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

Then he straightened, stood and walked away at a brisk pace without once looking back.