Yet all follow the same path, at least all strive to achieve the same thing, from the philosopher to the lowest criminal, only by different roads. It is an old truth: ... I know that people can be happy and beautiful without losing their ability to live on earth. I will not and I cannot believe that evil is the normal condition among men... And I shall go on! I shall go on!

Ash cringed as they hauled him out front. Eiji—Eiji—

He was alive. Sick, but alive. He had to make it. Yut-Lung would see to it. Ash's side pulsated with pain. He spotted a few drops of blood staining his white t-shirt.

I have to make it, too.

It wasn't enough, and it was. That moment, that knowledge that Eiji was there, the few minutes he was in Ash's arms, warm, too warm with fever. It was enough for a lifetime, but it was a lifetime he wanted to have. And he heard it in Eiji's voice, too.

I don't want to die.

They yanked him around a corner, and Ash pulled up cold. Blanca!

Already?

Well, thank God.

Blanca looked as if he would perhaps prefer to shoot Ash and Yut-Lung over these assassins. Ash narrowed his eyes. You better not have come alone, old man.

No, he wouldn't have. Cain and Lao wouldn't let him.

"Run long enough, didn't you, Sergei?" said the one holding a gun to Ash's skull.

"Why did you not go for these two immediately?" Blanca asked. "Playing cat and mouse, I see."

Ash eyed the storage room, looking for crates that would make good vantage points, taking in six agents. All trained, no doubt, but so was he.

"Where is Yut-Lung?" asked Blanca. "And the other two?"

"If they're not important—"

Ash met Blanca's gaze. They're fine.

You're trying to buy time.

"They are important," Blanca cut in, voice hard.

"Not even pretending now, are you? Didn't learn anything from what happened to Natalia?"

Blanca said nothing, but Ash saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

"You can't run forever, no matter how skilled you are." The man switched to Russian.

Can't run… Ash watched Blanca. Why did you run? Why did you run from me?

I needed you.

You've been running all these years, and not from the government. You've been running from yourself. Jessica's right. Yut-Lung and I—we—

You've been running from Natasha, because it hurts too much.

Eiji—Eiji—

I tried to push you away.

I won't run. Not anymore.

A plink. From the window. A shot. A shudder.

Warm blood splashed Ash's face. The man holding him fell.

Dead.

A sniper? How? Did Blanca have defecting friends? Not that it mattered. Ash snatched his gun. Bullets erupted from behind him, but most of the agents turned their weapons on—

A wordless scream erupted from Ash's throat. A flash of white, and his hand moved on instinct, the instincts of a monster, the instincts taught by the one he was trying to save. He fired the shot into the man about to kill Blanca.

For you, I'll do what I hate.

Blanca aimed his own weapon, firing at the man who would have taken Ash out thanks to him dropping his guard to save Blanca.

"You don't get to die either, idiot!" Ash bellowed, running and ducking behind a crate for cover. He didn't like these guns. They were too large, and he could—

No. No more than necessary. But still. We have to get out alive. He remembered that cold seeping through him as blood streamed out of him. No. Not again. Eiji was here. He'd held Eiji in his arms again. Eiji was alive. Eiji wanted him alive, and he wanted to live, wanted to see him again, wanted to yell at Blanca, wanted to listen to Jessica chew him out.

"Freeze! Police!"

Charlie! Ash froze. He whirled around, kneeling. Shouts and shots showered the air. Glass and crates shattered. Blue and red lights streamed over the warehouse. Three agents lay dead. Two were down and bleeding, and another Ash could see dying, seizing and shuddering on broken wood from a shot-apart crate. And the last one held Lao by the scruff of his neck, gun jabbing into Lao's temple.

Of fucking course it's Lao.

Sing, I hate your brother.

"Put your weapons down!" bellowed Charlie. Nadia appeared behind him.

Nadia?

Cain dropped his weapon. His men followed suit. But the agent holding Lao didn't. His face twisted. Blanca lowered his, too, and glanced to Ash in alarm.

"Ash, put it down!" hollered Nadia. Two pinpricks of red landed on Ash, too.

It'd be a difficult shot. Lao was choking, face turning purple, swelling under the guy's grip, and his head—

Lao, please be more competent than I think you are. Ash fired. The agent howled, clutching his shoulder. Lao elbowed him in the face, throwing the gun across the floor with a crash. He raised his hands, stepping away from the wounded agent.

Ash dropped the gun, holding his hands up, too.

Chaos. Police and FBI swarmed, medics rushing to treat the wounded. Charlie flew over to Ash, grasping his arms, but he didn't put them in handcuffs. He did pull Ash to his feet. "Got any weapons on you? Please tell me. And be honest."

Ash shook his head.

"I tried to stay out of it, but I couldn't," Charlie panted. "Nadia called—"

"Charlie," Ash said. "I don't want to hurt you. But please—"

"Come to the station," Charlie said. "You just helped capture foreign agents. I think that's worth potential immunity."

Ash blinked. "What? But I don't know anything—"

"If you can convince Blanca to cooperate, I can negotiate—I know people by now, people who can help, remember?" Charlie met his eyes. "I've been—all day—Ash, for the love of God, please don't—this is for you and Eiji—he's—"

"Sick," Ash interrupted. "Charlie, they'll take him to the hospital, I—"

"He'll be okay," Charlie pleaded. "This is—if you want a happy ending, yes it's in part because you're—a friend and Nadia's—please. Come with me to the station, and convince Blanca to cooperate. You'll all get immunity, all of you—the charges from earlier can be dropped, you won't have to be legally dead, if you want a new identity given the nature of what's going on you could probably get one—"

This isn't possible. Ash gaped.

"Take it, Ash," another voice said. "Please."

"You're here?" Ash whirled around.

"I shot the one holding you," Max said. "Some of my soldier training coming in handy. I do know how to shoot. Ash, if you take this, it's a few hours away from Eiji right now, but maybe more time with him afterwards. Please."

Please. How long had it been since someone begged him to take care of himself, someone who knew the worst of him?

Blanca glanced at him through the swarm of people. He'd said the same thing, that night at Chang Dai.

"Ash," said Max again, begging.

Ash nodded. "Okay."

"Please?" Ash asked Blanca.

Blanca tilted his head. "Did they offer you immunity?"

Ash nodded. They sat in the police station. It was cold, and his side was still leaking blood from his stitches, but he covered it up.

"Good," said Blanca.

"Why good?" Ash asked. "I'm still a murderer. Isn't that what you think you are?"

"That is what I am."

"It's not all you are," Ash said. He looked away, looking towards the clock ticking away against the ugly metal wall. It was six in the morning. The sun must be starting to rise. "You were—a mentor to me."

Blanca rubbed his forehead.

"You were a murderer before Natasha fell in love with you, right?" Ash asked. "Do you think she loved you because of that, or because there was something else to you?"

Blanca arched his eyebrows. "That Japanese boy is rubbing off you."

Ash shrugged. He met Blanca's eyes. "Yut-Lung and I snuck out because we didn't want you to—we knew you would try this. And we didn't want it." His voice shook. "We wanted…"

You to live.

Because we want to live. Sing and Eiji want us to. And we—we—

Please. If you failed as a mentor once, twice with Yut-Lung, then— "Why did you come back when I called you?" Ash asked. "If you really thought there was no hope for you."

Blanca sucked in his breath.

There's hope for you, and I shouldn't have to say it, you idiot. "Help me out," said Ash. "And help yourself out, too."

"I pushed you away because you reminded me of her," Blanca said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Natasha. Blonde hair, green eyes. I thought—you looked like—a child we might have had, if—" He gripped his forehead. "When that girl you had a crush on died—I figured it was because someone overheard you describing her to me, asking for advice—"

Ash looked at him. "It wasn't your fault." A lump grew in his throat.

When you left, I lost it.

If Shorter hadn't been there when I went to juvie…

"I'll help you," Blanca said. "As part of my condition, Charlie already knows I'll talk but only if they made you that offer. We worked it out yesterday. Take the deal. You and Eiji." He closed his eyes. "Go to him. Go see him. You love him."

Ash's fingertips tingled. He swallowed. "Thank you."

Blanca almost smiled.

"You better talk to Yut-Lung before you vanish again," said Ash. "If you vanish again."

Stay. That might be asking too much right now.

But if you want to return again someday.

Charlie yelled at Ash the moment he noticed he was bleeding, when Ash finished signing the paperwork under George's direction. And then Charlie dragged him to the hospital, assuring him Eiji was being given the best treatment.

Yut-Lung showed up in the emergency room. Ash arched his eyebrows. "Thanks for getting them out."

"Thanks for not dying. They're both asleep. Sing has a concussion and a small hematoma, but the doctors think he will be okay. They actually think he's unconscious more from the drugs they were given as opposed to the injury. Hopefully." Yut-Lung clutched his hands, wringing them. "Need your stitches sewn up again?"

Ash scowled.

Yut-Lung reached into his pocket, withdrawing something crinkling. "I think you might want this."

"What?" It looked like more paper. Fear stabbed at Ash.

"Eiji told me to give it to you before they knocked him out." Yut-Lung held it out to him.

Eiji. Oh. Okay. "You already read it," Ash accused.

"Correct." Yut-Lung pressed the envelope into his hand. "The date's expired, but still." He smiled. "I'll give you some privacy and go check on them. Assure Eiji you're alive and salty as ever."

"Hey," Ash said. "You're a friend now, right?"

Yut-Lung actually teared up. He nodded.

What on earth? Ash unfolded the papers. They had a small bloodstain in the corner, blood now dried and brown.

And—a ticket to Japan?

His chest tightened.

The date expired.

It's not too late.

You can change your fate.

My soul is always with you.

"Sing?"

It felt like an anvil had dropped on his head. Machines beeped inside his skull, and he wanted to grab them, pull the noise out of his brain through his ears. His eyelid felt as if they'd been replaced by sandpaper, stinging and scratching as he pulled them open.

"Sing!" Lao's face swam above him.

"Lao?" Sing rasped. Eiji—everything flooded back to him. "You have to—"

"Eiji's okay," Lao said, hands on his shoulders. "Everyone is. You've been rescued."

"Huh?" Sing tilted his head to the side. It felt as if lava poured down his skull. "Ow!"

"Shit." Lao looked panicked. "I—"

"What happened?" Sing rasped. "I mean—did you—"

"It's a long story. Ash and Yut-Lung and that crazy bodyguard of theirs, Blanca, saved you. You were held by foreign assassins, Sing."

"Yut-Lung?" Sing's eyes widened. "He—"

Lao closed his eyes. He swallowed.

"Is he okay?" Sing demanded. "Lao, is he—" He remembered that smile on Yut-Lung's face, the resignation and clotted blood in his eyes, that night so recently and yet so long ago.

You want to die so bad?

"He's okay. He's downstairs with Ash, or maybe he's with Eiji right now, I don't know, he was kinda doing rounds." Lao rubbed the back of his neck.

"What aren't you saying?" Sing demanded.

"You're hurt, Sing. You were drugged for days, you're dehydrated, you have a concussion, they had to insert a catheter in your brain to drain a bruise or whatever—"

"Tell me what you're not telling me!" Sing shrieked. Panic tore at his throat. "Please, Lao, please—you're my brother—" Trust me, trust me, please.

"Okay, okay!" Lao flung his hands up. "Sing, he told us—about Ash and Shorter. About what really happened."

Oh shit. Sing bit his lip. "Bet Ash is pissed."

"I don't know." Lao gulped. "I also stabbed Ash."

The room spun with Sing's head as the axis, tilting and tilting. He slammed his eyes shut, cracking them open slowly. "Lao, what the fuck?"

"Before I knew, and then—Yut-Lung saved him too, and they figured it out and contacted Blanca, and then he came to me and told me about Shorter to get us to go and work with Ash's gang and Black Sabbath, and—" Lao cut himself off.

Sing studied his brother's face. The guilt was embedded, and he'd seen that look before. In Yut-Lung's eyes. In Ash's. Your soul is bleeding. "And you let him live?"

You want to die so bad?

No. You want to live, and you want me to tell you it's okay to.

Lao shook his head. "I did, but—I wasn't going to, but Nadia Wong came—she stopped me, she reminded me saving you was more important—I—" He shook his head. "I just wanted to protect you, Sing, I don't want what happened to Shorter to happen to you—"

"Ash will never hurt me," Sing said. "He had every opportunity to, and he didn't. Yut-Lung is the same. He—" Sing swallowed. "He's my friend." He's a good person, deep down. He cares.

"He's brave," Lao muttered. "Braver than me—I would have—seeing what we were actually up against—" He clenched his fists.

"Stop blaming yourself," Sing interrupted. He closed his eyes. He was so, so tired. "Thank you for not hurting him, Lao."

"Would you have forgiven me, if I had?"

"You're my brother." Sing drew in his breath. "I don't know. I don't know if I'd forgive you. But I wouldn't leave you, and I wouldn't hate you. That's what I told Yut-Lung, too, when I first went to talk to him."

"You left before—"

"I did not!" Sing glared. "You walked away."

Lao lowered his head, chin scraping his neck. He nodded.

"Don't walk away again," Sing managed. "Please."

Lao met Sing's eyes. His were wet. He nodded.

"I think," Sing said. "Shorter'd be proud of you."

"You're awake!" exclaimed Yut-Lung.

"Huh?" Eiji stared at him, eyes bleary. "Oh. Yeah. I guess."

Pain medicine. Yut-Lung texted Ash. He's awake. "Ash will be right here. He's just getting stitches in the ER."

Eiji's gaze widened. "Stitches?"

"Believe it or not, he got himself stabbed and it was not inflicted nor ordered by me, but also sort of my fault." Yut-Lung shrugged. He felt dazed from being awake so long. "He'll be okay. And the doctors say the bacteria is probably easily treatable for you, but they have to wait for cultures to make sure."

Eiji's eyes started to drift shut. "Is Ibe—"

"He's coming, too." Yut-Lung decided not to mention that Ibe'd been shot. "Eiji?"

"Mm?" Eiji looked directly at him.

You irritate me.

No, what irritated Yut-Lung was what he was afraid of, the very thing he craved. The idea that if he was lovable, his brothers had choices, he had choices, more than he thought. Yut-Lung's lips trembled. He stood. "Eiji, I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"For—everything. What I did to you, to Ash, the pain I put you through—it's inexcusable." Yut-Lung had been rehearsing this speech ever since Ash dragged him away from Lao. He bowed his head. "To Shorter, to—all of you. I've already apologized to Ash, but I wanted to—maybe you won't even remember this, you're so doped up right now, but I'll say it again if you want to hear it—you and Ash and all of the people in his gang—you have my protection, for whatever it's worth, forever, and—" His lips broke. "Thank you for being with Sing."

"He helped me more than I helped him," Eiji managed.

"I doubt it," said Yut-Lung. "I mean, not to demean Sing, but you—you comfort people around you. He's not the experience being abducted that you and I have."

Eiji actually laughed, and then yelped him pain.

"Sorry!" Yut-Lung cringed. "And I shouldn't have kidnapped—"

"You wanted me to stay, didn't you?" Eiji asked. "You wanted to understand."

Yut-Lung's face burned. He nodded.

"I'm sorry I couldn't."

"You couldn't," Yut-Lung admitted. "Ash needed you. I had no right to keep you."

"You needed someone, too."

Yut-Lung studied his shoes. "Well, I'll get the nurse—to give you more pain medicine." He turned and hurried away, his guilt sizzling and charring him.

But Eiji looked at him like Sing had. Sympathy, like he saw his wounds oozing and festering, and wanted to help him instead of fleeing.

I needed help.

Yut-Lung exhaled as he headed towards the elevators, taking them a few floors down to the ward Sing was on. His heart pounded. You're okay. Lao had texted him that Sing was awake.

He stepped into the room as Lao rose. "I'll be back later, little bro."

"Thanks, Lao." Sing's eyes latched onto Yut-Lung. "Hey!" His voice came out a weak croak.

"Glad to see you awake," Yut-Lung managed. When they'd rushed towards the hospital, when the doctors had taken him away, wheeling him down a corridor yelling at each other, he'd burst into tears. And Cain studied him, a solemn look on his face.

But Sing'd woken up, and the afternoon sun was shining golden through the windows.

"Thanks for rescuing me," Sing rasped. "Lao told me—about you and Ash getting kidnapped to—and Lao told me you told him about Shorter, also."

Yut-Lung gulped. He nodded. "Of course. You're my…" Am I your friend? Would you be offended if I used that term?

"Your what?" Sing asked.

Yut-Lung met Sing's eyes. "I wasn't going to leave you—alone, to them. You know. You saved me, basically, when you showed up that night after—everything."

Sing frowned. And then he winced.

"Are you all right?" Yut-Lung asked.

"I think it's normal to be in some pain."

"Well, I don't want you to be in pain." Yut-Lung turned to march out the door, yell for a nurse.

"Yut-Lung, seriously, don't bother," Sing managed. "It's okay."

Yut-Lung hesitated. Sing looked so pale on the cot.

"I'd rather talk," Sing added. "You and Ash working together, huh? I told Eiji we were as good as dead if that happened." He smirked.

Yut-Lung forced himself to laugh, too. He sat in the small black plastic chair next to the bed. Well, the hospital certainly needed an endowment for better chairs.

"If you don't think it's funny, you don't have to laugh. I was just jok—"

"I know," said Yut-Lung. "Ash is—a friend, now. Against the odds." He almost smiled.

I won't forgive you. Not ever.

And still…

"Wow," said Sing. "Guess you guys really do care. I mean, Ash and Eiji, but—"

"I care," Yut-Lung interrupted. "I care a lot." He pressed his lips together. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Blanca's slithered through his mind. "I suppose—I don't know how much—maybe I was motivated for myself as well as for you. I know I'm selfish. But you—you stayed with me, you've been acting almost like a friend, you don't hate me—no one else ever has. No one has ever stayed, before you. I couldn't lose that. No matter what it cost me. I'd do anything. I suppose that's mostly me being afraid, though."

Sing stared at him.

"Anyways," Yut-Lung cut in. "I want you to be happy, Sing. Beyond anything else. I don't want to be so selfish anymore. Being around Ash, and Ibe and Max, I heard more about Eiji—I understand now. What that's like. Caring about someone more than you care about yourself, wanting to take a burden for them." He gulped. His fingers gripped his knees. "I don't want you to have to help out with this—Chinatown business anymore. You're too good for this, Sing. I want you to live a good life, not—"

"Fucking bullshit!"

Yut-Lung froze. His heart thumped.

Sing glared. "God, you make it sound like you're some kind of monster, and I've never seen you that way!"

Yut-Lung blinked. "You said you'd never forgive me, and I can't forgive myself, and—"

"Don't put this on me! I do forgive you! I have since—about a week after! You know that!" Sing looked as if he was about to cry. "You don't owe me—I help you because I want to!"

"I'm not trying to put it on you!" Yut-Lung stood up, yanking on his own ponytail. "It's because—I just want to—you matter more to me than anyone! Saving you by—from kidnappers is just one thing, but I want you to—" His words, scalding, caught in his throat.

Sing grasped his wrist. Yut-Lung glanced down at it, surprised. "Why did you pick me?"

"Huh?"

"Why me? Because I was already leading the gang, and—"

"Yes," Yut-Lung said. "And then it hit me. How much you—reminded me of Ash, and of Eiji too, I suppose. You—like Ash, you're talented and gifted and have a weak spot for your loved ones, and like Eiji—you may not be part of a living hell, but you will walk into one for the sake of comforting someone."

"Ha," Sing said. "So dramatic." His eyelids closed. "You know something, Yut-Lung?"

"What?"

"I kept visiting you not just because I felt like I had to, but because you reminded me of Ash, too. Like I said. I thought I had a lot to learn from you. Still do. You're smart and ambitious, and you care. Too much sometimes." Sing's eyes stayed closed. "You said I admired Ash when you bailed me out of jail… I admired you too. Till you started acting all shady, and since, 'cause you keep going anyways." His grip tightened again. "If you try to commit suicide via my brother again I will slap you both so hard that—"

"Okay, okay, I won't!" Yut-Lung's heart felt light. "You admire me?"

Sing peered at him. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Well…" Yes. Most of the people who admired him did it because they wanted something.

You want nothing in return.

"Well, I do," mumbled Sing. "Lots." He drifted off. Yut-Lung stood there.

A knock. Yut-Lung glanced up to see Blanca in the doorway.

"He's not going to remember any of this, is he?" asked Yut-Lung.

Blanca shrugged. "He meant it, though."

"I know." Yut-Lung swallowed the lump.

"Having someone who cares about you like that," said Blanca. "Is the best feeling in the world."

Yut-Lung slid his gaze towards Blanca. "Are you talking about your wife?"

"It's something Ash said about Eiji." Blanca smiled.

"I know. He said the same to me." Yut-Lung felt a flush prickling its way down his neck. "Saying goodbye?"

"Actually I was wondering if you were hiring, considering you don't exactly have any staff left."

Yut-Lung scowled. "They didn't deserve that."

"No," Blanca said quietly.

"Considering it's your fault, you could work off your debt, I suppose." Yut-Lung stuck his nose up in the air.

Blanca rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for coming back," Yut-Lung said. "I would have lost Sing otherwise. Ash, Eiji. One more loveless person, right? Or two."

Blanca cleared his throat. "It wasn't okay for me to say that."

Yut-Lung blinked.

Blanca said nothing. Are you really loveless? Yut-Lung wondered. Unable to love? Then how did you love her so much? Then how did you—why did you—

"He clearly had feelings for you," Blanca said. "I could only hope—when Natasha found out what I was, she didn't care."

Yut-Lung covered his face.

"I'm sorry."

Yut-Lung looked up at Blanca. "Don't go."

"Hm?"

"I'll hire you. To be a bodyguard again, but for Ash too. Don't go back to the Caribbean where you'll be fucking miserable even if you get cocktails and girls every night. I've seen your taste; you have none anyways so that's clearly not going to help you feel anything but more depressed."

"What makes you think I would be happier in this cold, gray—"

"Ash is here." Yut-Lung folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. "And so am I."

Blanca snorted. But he didn't say no.

"What are you two gabbing about?" came Sing's voice. He tried to push himself up and winced.

"Blanca was just telling me you have a crush on me and begging me to take him back," said Yut-Lung slyly. "As a bodyguard."

Blanca scowled at him, no doubt remembering the hotel incident.

"What?" screeched Sing. "I do not!" But his face was bright red.

"That's okay," Yut-Lung said, totally patronizing. "It's understandable."

"I don't!" Sing looked as if his face was a hematoma now.

"A shame," remarked Yut-Lung. "If you did, I'd be flattered."

Sing froze.

"Sorry, I forgot. You're on drugs right now."

"I'm actually due for another dose," Sing managed. His gaze bore into Yut-Lung's.

Blanca cleared his throat and stepped out of the room, and Yut-Lung wanted to melt like a candle. Now he felt small. He cringed. "Sing, I—I'm sorry, I just haven't slept—"

"So you don't really want to kiss me?"

"No, I'm just—" Yut-Lung frowned. "Wait, would you—"

"I don't know when Lao's getting back but if Big Dude's left I'm guessing it's soon, so you better step up your game." Sing coughed. "And then for the love of God please beg the nurse for more medicine. My skull hurts so—"

"I can—"

"Or—"

Yut-Lung stepped closer. His palms felt sweaty. He'd never actually kissed anyone he had any semblance of feeling for, seen it as anything more than lips meeting lips. But Sing was looking up at him, his eyes wide.

Yut-Lung bent down, hair cascading around Sing's face. He hesitated, and then pressed his mouth against Sing's, and instead of jerking back, he sank in. Sing opened his mouth.

Yut-Lung broke away, gulping. If Sing ever wanted to break up, he'd understand, he'd have to make sure Sing knew that he would never retaliate and Chinatown was of course the—

Sing's fingers, one clipped to a pulse monitor, rose up to trace Yut-Lung's jawline. Like he was an art piece, or something, someone, beautiful. No, not a thing. Sing was looking into his eyes, Sing's dark brown and warm, and he knew Sing was seeing the soul he'd seen bleeding before, healing.

"What the fuck?" screamed Lao's voice from the doorway.

Eiji's eyes opened. A flash of gold, and jade. Someone clutched his hand, warm.

"Eiji?"

His voice. And like the last time they were in the hospital, his voice trembled, crumbling. But unlike the last time, the hand stayed in his, the grip tightening.

"Are you in pain?"

"Gonna fight bacteria now?" Eiji managed. He fully opened his eyes. It was dark out, the room clasped in night. Outside the room, in the corridor, nurses' voices echoed and carts squeaked as they wheeled over the tiled floor.

Ash laughed, and the sound sparked inside Eiji's head. He grinned.

"You're smiling," Ash said.

"You're here," Eiji said. "And—I'm not in Japan."

"I would be more like, 'you're not kidnapped,' but okay." Ash shook his head. And sticking out from the pockets of his jeans, Eiji noticed two wrinkled pieces of paper.

His chest tightened. "The letter."

Ash glanced down. He closed his eyes. "Thank you, Eiji."

"I meant everything I said," Eiji said. "I—I wanted to deliver it in person, but I was—still scared. Scared of changing my fate, of manipulating you, so I—"

"Don't ever apologize for that," Ash insisted.

"Yut-Lung said you got stabbed."

"Oh." Ash glanced down at his side. "Yeah, that was a thing. But I'm fine."

Eiji glowered.

"You're the one who has sepsis!"

"He apologized to me," said Eiji. "Yut-Lung. He was sincere."

"I know," Ash said.

"He reminds me of Shorter in some ways," Eiji said. He remembered Shorter's face as Golzine's men dragged him away, the guilt pressing on it, how Eiji never got to tell him that he never, ever believed he was a traitor, that he never blamed him, how he never would understand or know.

No. He knew. Wherever he was, he knew. Eiji had to believe that.

"Me too," Ash said. His thumb rubbed circles over Eiji's knuckles. "Ibe was shot in the shoulder, but he's okay. I saw him earlier. Him and Max—they yelled at me and Yut-Lung for putting ourselves at risk."

"Why did you do that?" Eiji demanded, anger firing up his throat. "You shouldn't have, Ash, you—you have value. More than you know."

"I think I got that from your letter," Ash said, pulling it out.

"Then believe it, then. Because that's up to you." Please believe it.

It hurts. More than this infection, more than getting shot, seeing you blame yourself, and I want to pull you out of it but I can't, so I'll hold your hand.

Because to me, you've never been disgusting.

To me, you are the most beautiful dawn.

"I don't know how," Ash said. He snorted. "I'm not used to not knowing things."

"Ah right, Mr. IQ of 200," Eiji teased.

"Show me?" Ash requested.

"Hm?" Eiji blinked.

"Show me," Ash said. "Teach me. I don't—trust myself, but I trust you."

Eiji's eyes watered. "Stay by my side? It doesn't have to be forever. Even just for now."

Ash stood, hovering over Eiji. His hand left Eiji's, and Eiji flexed his fingers, cold. And then he felt Ash's fingers on his temple, pushing his hair back, brushing his cheekbone, and Eiji looked up at him, and he saw the same determination he had back in the prison, but without the guarded shields up, the same determination Eiji felt when he ran towards a brick wall, a rusted metal pipe in his hand.

Fly.

Ash lowered his lips to Eiji's, gentle this time. Eiji arched his back up, ignoring the pain in his side, pressing his mouth into Ash's, and Ash responded, opening up.

They pulled apart, Ash closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Eiji's. "Forever."