Shifting the Balance complete

by draxal

The completed version of Shifting the Balance, originally posted under P.L. Nunn. Kenshin's world is rocked when his family is brutally kidnapped by a nefarious Englishman with ties to Kenshin's past. A gravely wounded Kenshin is joined by Sano in a pursuit that takes them on an epic chase that spans the ocean. Yaoi and non-con warning. Ken x Sano. Ken x Kaouri.

5. Chapter 5

Chapter Sixteen

Sano veered towards another tavern and Kenshin groaned, reluctantly dogging his heels, afraid that if he lost track of him in this strange, island port - - so late at night and in such a state - - that he might not be able to find him again come morning. He did not trust Sano to find his own way back to the inn, drunk as he was. He honestly doubted he could navigate the city sober without a great deal of luck.

So into the hazy, lantern lit confines of a sleazy little bar filled with seedy looking natives who gave them wary, suspicious looks when they entered. A local bar and not one that turned friendly eyes towards strangers. Sano didn't seem to notice the instant hostility. Sano paid no heed to the obvious weapons concealed under shirts and tucked into belts. Kenshin was certain he missed a great deal of them himself, well aware of how far gone the rum that he had foolishly consumed, had taken him. He was operating on luck alone at the moment, because grace and dexterity and skill were hazy things hiding behind a false veneer of sobriety. Foolish, foolish, foolish to allow himself to reach such a state when he was in a strange place, among strange people with a mission to perform. He hardly let himself drink when he was safe within the familiar domain of home - - but he'd fallen to Sano's whim. And Sano could persuade him into things that no one else could. No one else could make him abandon common sense so thoroughly and enjoy himself while he was about it.

He cast a glare at Sano's back, casting blame where blame rightfully belonged. Sano didn't see it. Sano probably wouldn't have cared if he had. Sano was in a fine mood and not, Kenshin thought, at all concerned about common sense or safety or the general opinion others held of his person.

Sano shouldered his way to the bar, amidst much grumbling and dark looks and slammed a coin down on the warped wood, demanding a drink. Apparently he'd picked up the words to order alcohol, for the bar tender presently presented him with a dirty glass filled to the brim with amber liquid.

"One for my friend." Sano beckoned Kenshin, apparently willing to forget his recent pique.

"No. I've had enough." Kenshin shook his head and stood his ground.

The bar tender said something which Sano might or might not have understood. Kenshin didn't.

"Don't drink, can't stay. Paying customers only." Sano grinned wolfishly and Kenshin scowled, contemplating just walking out and leaving him on his own. But he saw the glint of a curved blade here, the edge of a fisherman's gutting knife there and too many contemplative scowls from the locals to abandon Sano to their good graces. Not a drunken Sano, at any rate. He slipped up to the bar, sliding between Sano and an overweight native that smelled of rotten fish and beer.

"One drink and we go." He said softly.

Sano threw his beer down and signaled for another.

"Sano."

"You drink yours." Sano snapped, scowling a little.

Kenshin scowled back. "What, do you want the both of us so drunk we can't find our way back to the inn?"

"Fair's fair."

Kenshin rolled his eyes. He snatched the mug and gulped a few mouthfuls of the beer. It was mellow enough to flow smoothly. Surprising, considering the state of the bar. He'd expected something akin to watered down urine. He had a second mug before him without even realizing that he'd finished the first. His fingers and toes were beginning to feel numb. His head very disconnected from the rest of his body. He put the second mug down, only half finished and tugged at Sano's arm with some bit of urgency. He needed fresh air badly. Thought he was in danger of spilling up all the varied foods he'd had tonight if he didn't get it.

Sano followed him out, and stood there while Kenshin stood in the street with his hands on his knees, gasping for air not fouled with the stench of beer and sweat.

"You, okay, Kenshin?"

It took him a moment to formulate an answer. "Uhummm - - I think - - maybe - - maybe I'm not gonna throw up - -" He found that beneficial discovery amusing. He laughed and threw back his hair, brushed at it impatiently with one hand when it still insisted on falling into his eyes, and tried to get a fix on which way it was they'd been heading when Sano had decided to slip into the bar.

"Which way - -?"

"That way." Sano pointed and Kenshin squinted his eyes down the darkened street, not quite sure if taking Sano's advice on direction was a good thing - - but having the sinking suspicion that his own was fast dwindling thanks to that one magical drink too many.

It took him a handful of blocks to realize he was lost. Dreadfully, embarassingly lost. Sano laughed over it. Oh, Sano was vastly amused. Sano sat in the street and howled and Kenshin stood spray-legged over him and glared, cursing under his breath, thinking that if the sky weren't spinning so horribly he might get a fix from the stars on at least which direction the harbor was.

"Shut up. Shut up! You do better."

Sano kept laughing. He grabbed hold of Kenshin's arm to haul himself up and almost toppled the both of them in the street.

"There. We'll ask there." Sano pointed at the entrance to a tavern. He had an unerring ability to scout them out.

"Nooo." Kenshin moaned. "We can't even speak the tongue - -"

"Sure we can." Sano sauntered through the door, languid and rolling in his drunken state. Predatory, like a big cat on the prowl. Kenshin had to admit to bafflement that Sano wasn't staggering - - but then, Sano had always had a better head for drink than he had. Sano generally didn't get falling down drunk until he was so far gone that unconsciousness was eminent. He turned and cast a sly, white-toothed grin at Kenshin, asking. "What's the name of the place we're staying?"

Kenshin stared at him, mind completely blank of that all important fact, still focused on the lazy grin and the rolling gait.

"I - - I can't remember. It's - - it's Spanish, I think."

"Oh, big help you are." Sano gave him a heavy-lidded, smug look, then went up to the mostly deserted bar and engaged the native behind it in a conversation based mostly on hand gestures and low spoken, earnest words. Kenshin couldn't hear what he said. Kenshin wasn't getting near the bar, just in case a drink might find its way to his hand.

Sano came back, wiping his mouth of the last dregs of the shot of something he'd had at the bar, smiling.

"Well?"

"Just follow me. I know the way."

"You know the way?"

"Trust me."

"You get lost walking from Tokyo to Urawa - -"

"Just that once, you prick. Either follow me or find your own way." Sano was indignant over that sensitive memory. Kenshin usually had better sense and softer manners than to mention such an embarrassment. A man had to assume that it was the drink talking.

There was little choice, really, but to pad along in Sano's wake, very occasionally putting a hand out to catch at Sano's arm as the street tilted under his sandals. He had to watch the road diligently to make sure that it behaved.

And when next he looked up the familiar porch of the inn was before them. And Sano was beaming over his success. Oh, a very self-satisfied Sano who strode up the steps and into the darkened lobby like he'd just won the biggest pot of his life. The staff was long since in bed and it was up to them to navigate the narrow, dark stairway. In the hallway outside their room Sano turned and cackled.

"Think you can remember which room we're in, or should I point that out as well?"

Kenshin sniffed, deciding to accept the insult graciously, and in the humor that it had been directed. He grinned, leaning in to say. "There's a first time for everything, Sano."

His balance deserted him and he kept falling forward, coming up short with Sano's big hands on his shoulders and Sano's smooth chest against his forehead. His own hands found purchase against Sano's ribs, under the loose lapels of his jacket. Hard, lean muscle twitched under his fingers. He could feel the frantic thud of Sano's heart through the veneer of muscle and bone and flesh. Odd feeling that - - of Sano under his hands - - all caged power and flinching sinew. Soft on the outside, but hard as rock underneath. His skin smelled faintly of sweat and rum and the lingering traces of whatever scent he'd had in his bath - - and underneath that - - something that was simply Sano. Familiar and pleasing and comfortable.

He lifted his head, eyes level with Sano's throat, inhaling the scent that lingered at the hollow between his collar bones. Sano swallowed, convulsively and Kenshin lifted his eyes, feeling hazy and indulgent, pleased for some reason at the wide eyed look of alarm in Sano's eyes. His own lips curved up into a half smile and he slid up Sano's body, raised on his toes, to brush his mouth past Sano's chin - - past his lower lip - - almost touching, but not quite. A grazing passage of breath and flesh that made his body tingle and his groin tighten with lazy heat. Sano's hands moved down his shoulders, palm pressed flat to his back, sliding down to the small of his back - - lower. A hesitant touch that made his skin prickle and his head swim more than it already was.

It was the most surreal thing - - the hands, the skin, the lips - - the intensity of feeling that coiled at the bottom of his gut - - dream-like and intriguing until the hard edge of Sano's arousal jutted against his own, when Sano's hands gripped his buttocks tight and lifted him up, almost off the floor.

That brought a rush of reality tinged vertigo. That brought too much sensation for an alcohol dulled mind to tolerate. He twisted and pushed away and Sano let him, back against the wall, breath rasping harshly through his mouth.

"What was that?" Sano demanded as Kenshin veered for the what he thought was the right door. He pulled at the handle - - flustered by the lack of proper sliding tracks. It didn't open. Wasn't there a key?

A key. He had it in his pocket. He got his fingers about it and fit it shakily into the lock. Got inside with Sano on his heels and the sound of the door closing in Sano's wake - - sealing them in.

"What was that?" Sano was insistent. Kenshin didn't know. Kenshin's thoughts were all awash with incoherency. With sound. With smell. With the electric pulse of touch. He didn't feel so much nauseous, as light headed and sensitized.

Sano caught his arm, swinging him around, fingers clenching so hard it hurt. "What - - the - - fuck - - was - - that, Kenshin?"

There was the faintest threat of violence in Sano's desperate need for answers. The scent of adrenaline mixed with sweat and need. It hit him in the gut, like some stone fist that had come upon him unawares, the violence, the sweat, the want - - the sex.

He caught hold of Sano's jacket, jerking him off his balance, lunging up and pressing his mouth across Sano's lips. There was hardly a beat missed in surprise. Hardly a split second passed before Sano had his hands in Kenshin's hair, fingertips pressed into his skull to tilt his head the way he wanted it. Sano was beer and rum and heat, the moist muscle of his tongue stabbing into Kenshin's mouth, dueling with his own, trying to suck him in and devour him.

There was no control, no nicety, no sweet words, no gentleness - - it was raw and primitive and filled with enough sheer lust to hamper vision. Kenshin's knees hit the bed and he went down, spilling mosquito netting as Sano's weight bore him back. Sano's fingers tore at his clothing, scraping skin in the process. Kenshin ground his hips up, rubbing himself against Sano's groin, against the hard, insistent heat there. Sano groaned into his mouth, disengaging only long enough to push his own jacket off, and fumble with the tie of his pants. Kenshin reared up as he was doing it, planting the heel of a hand against Sano's shoulder, toppling him over with his trousers half down his long thighs, the twitching, rigid length of him exposed and pressed against his lower belly. Kenshin put a hand on it, hot, hot flesh, thumping with the beat of Sano's heart under his fingers. Sano cried out. His name maybe - - or something more guttural. Kenshin leaned in to nip the flesh at the edge of Sano's jaw, grazed flesh with sharp teeth and did it again when Sano arched into his hand, and rolled, trapping one of Kenshin's thighs under his hip, pressing one rough palm atop Kenshin's own erection and rubbing up and down the length of it. Hard.

It was as much powerplay as anything - - Sano trying to roll Kenshin back under his weight, Kenshin trying to if not stay on top - - then at least keep equal footing. But Sano had the weight on him, and the strength and the length of arms and legs - - and it was more the battle than the victory which was important - - more the implied violence of the act and the eventual surrender that made him arch up into Sano when the younger man wormed his way between his legs and hooked an arm under his knee, forcing him into that most vulnerable of positions.

"Wait a minute - - wait a minute - -" Sano gasped, poised there, the seeping, burning tip of himself pressed tight against that place behind Kenshin's scrotum.

Wait. Wait. Kenshin couldn't think. He couldn't see. All that was discernible of Sano was an indistinct, shadowy shape looming over him. The room was a swirling miasma of darkness behind him.

"I need - -" Sano shifted and his weight momentarily left Kenshin. There was the sound of shattering glass as Sano swiped the cover from the oil lantern, the clunk of the base turned over, spilling its contents and Sano was back, fingers slick with oil, coating his own length, other greasy hand splayed out across Kenshin's belly - - and then with single minded intensity his fingers found the entrance he wanted and he guided himself in.

Slick with oil, it hardly hurt at first - - but the burning grew. All the mindless lust fled on the wings of sudden pain. Sudden, inevitable invasion. It had felt so good before, so urgent to have Sano's body under his hands and his mouth - - but now, all he wanted was to wriggle away from the hurt - - from the ungainly large thing that wanted to impale him.

An image flashed through Kenshin's head. Of rain spattered earth and laughing, gruff faces leering over him - - -

He tried to retreat and Sano leaned down, shoulder forcing Kenshin's knee almost to his chest, hands white knuckled on Kenshin's wrists which he pinned to the bed by his head. Kenshin couldn't see his face. All he could hear was the rasping rhythm of his breath, the small sounds their bodies made as they moved against each other.

His face slammed into dirt smeared stone, his wrists bound so tight that he could only just feel the fiery pain in his hands - - -

Sano had forgotten him in his lust. Had forgotten everything but satisfying his own need. Sano's hair brushing his chin as he bent over, grunting with the force of each thrust. Almost - - it began to warm something in him that had started to shrivel - - if Sano would only let go his hands so he could touch himself, he might get it back.

A foot in his gut when he tried to struggle and an arm under his waist when he'd lost his breath and his ability to fight. An arm that pulled him up against a man's bare groin, bristly hair and thick, prodding phallus - - other men urging him on - - vying for who would be next - -

He screamed and Sano did and he felt the fiery heat of Sano's release and Sano's hands sliding down his body and finding the softening heat between his legs and urging it back to life. Sano's mouth moving over his own, lazier now, sated and too drunk to realize that Kenshin hadn't been.

The rain beat down and he was cold - - so cold - - and they were relentless and brutal and the sound of his own hoarse cries echoed over and over in his ears - -

Sano chased the cold away. Sano curled around him, mouth and tongue and teeth tracing a way down his throat to his chest and lower until the fire came back and his mind blanked again, chasing away the images. But they lingered, at the back of his mind, waiting until sleep came to plague him in real.

Sano felt like he was adrift, lost in an undulating sea that tossed and churned and never let him get his footing on solid ground. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. It was generally accompanied by the impending need to vomit. He rolled, trying to find a position that soothed his rolling equilibrium and came up against warm, smooth skin. He lay there, hand tentatively skimming the curved contour of an arm, thigh brushing the curve of buttocks. The scent in his nostrils was headily familiar.

Kenshin?

What in hell had he done last night? What had they done? He had vague, lurid memories of struggling with clothing and heated mouths and - -and plunging into heat and tightness and rutting like a dog in heat.

Shit. Was that what had happened? With Kenshin? With a Kenshin who'd been as staggering drunk as Sano had ever seen him and who - - Sano's memories were uncertain at best - - had come on to him in the damned hallway. He lay there, trying to pull up more detailed memory, and found his mouth twitching up in the beginnings of a self-satisfied smirk. If it hadn't happened, it had been the mother of all wet dreams.

If he opened his eyes and found it wasn't Kenshin - - oh so familiar scent not withstanding - - he was going to be greatly disappointed.

But, it was, lithe white back curved towards him, tussled, red head burrowed in the crock of one arm, the other hand sprawled off the edge of the bed. Caught perhaps in the clutches of some dream for his fingers tightened spasmodically in his hair and intermittent soft murmurs escaped him.

Sano was at a loss. He had no notion of what a body ought to do upon wakening the morning after having fucked one's best friend. He'd never had it happen before. And despite weeks of longing after just this - - he wished it hadn't happened, because wakening simply hungover with Kenshin in his bed would be far easier than the reality of the alternative.

What did a body say? If it had been a woman he'd picked up for a casual lay he'd have no problem whatsoever. Good morning. How do you feel. Care for some breakfast? Can you pay, I'm a little short on funds.

He chewed on the inside of his lip, wondering if he ought to mention it at all. Maybe not say anything regarding it, unless Kenshin brought it up. Kenshin didn't stumble over his tongue half as much as Sano - - and he had started it - - so maybe just let Kenshin broach the subject. Which meant waking Kenshin up, which Sano was loathe to do, lazy and feeling sick as he was. Maybe sleeping the hangover off would be the best for all concerned. Maybe tackling this sticky situation not hungover would be for the best.

Maybe, if he rolled just a little bit over, he could mold himself up against Kenshin's smooth back, and slip his arm across Kenshin's ribs and curl it against his chest. Oh, that felt nice, what with his morning sensitive cock pressed to the cleft in Kenshin's ass. Nice enough that it twitched and roused and Sano had to forcibly start thinking about unsavory things to keep the half rigid thing from jumping to full life. Sano didn't think that prodding Kenshin awake with that against his rear would be a good way to start an uncomfortable morning.

But maybe Kenshin had felt it regardless, for his murmuring grew louder and his body tensed, the outflung hand curling into a claw. Most definitely in the throes of some nightmare.

"Kenshin?" Sano whispered. "Wake up - -"

And rather abruptly, Kenshin did, with a cry on his lips and a twisting lurch that ended with his elbow in Sano's face and Sano tasting blood from the impact.

"Goddamnit!" Sano howled, hand to his bleeding mouth, scrambling backwards to distance himself from a wild eyed, pale faced Kenshin who sprawled backwards off the edge of the bed, and fell with a thump and the sound of crunching glass.

The globe of the lantern that Sano had knocked over in his desperate efforts for lubrication. Kenshin cried out and lurched to his feet, blood seeping from a cut in the palm of his hand under the edge of the bandages. More from his hip.

"You son of a bitch . . ." he hissed, eyes narrow and deadly, hair in turmoil about his face and his shoulders.

"What?" Sano gawked.

"You bastard!" Kenshin growled. "What did you do?"

"What did I - - ? Wait just a fucking minute - - I didn't do anything that you - -"

"Get out!" Kenshin hissed. "Get out before I kill you."

Sano stared, feeling the nausea rise into his throat, seeing nothing but absolute earnestness in Kenshin's eyes. The type of deadly earnestness that the Battousai wore and the sort that a body who had any sense of self-preservation didn't trifle with.

"Fuck." Sano said, angry and wary and goddamned hurt. "Fuck you, Kenshin."

He snatched his trousers, pulling them on in a hurry, as eager to be out of there as Kenshin was to have him gone. He grabbed his jacket and his shoes and stomped for the door, flinging it open with a vengeance and slamming it with equal force behind him.

Damned if he understood what was going on. Damned if Kenshin had ever - - even when they were at odds - - looked at him with murderous intent before.

The wall's rattled with Sano's leaving. Kenshin stood there, braced against the wall, vision tinged with red, red trailing down his fingers and down his leg, warm and wet and sickly. It took him a second to focus on the glass scattered around his feet. A second more to put two and two together and come to the realization that he needed to distance himself from it. Keeping his back to the wall, he moved away, to the corner by the window, where the drapery gently rippled in the warm breeze. His legs gave way and he slid downwards, catching himself with the hand not leaking blood and easing the way to the floor. There was glass embedded in the fleshy part of his palm, and a sliver in his hip. He picked them out dully, shivering.

Flashes of imagery stuck, memory long since buried. His head slammed back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, hand clutching at the hair around his face. He didn't want to know. Didn't want the reality those nightmarish flashes of memory brought with them. Could not at the moment, sick and precarious with the aftereffects of too much drink - - with the all too recent memory of Sano - - and what Sano had done - - and what he had done - - deal with the conception of his own monumental weakness.

Oh - - how could he have forgotten? How could he have been so blinded as to pretend it hadn't happened? How did a man forget such a thing? He'd let it happen and he'd never in all his life - - not since the moment that he'd escaped the dubious mercy of the bandits who'd butchered the slave train he'd been a part of as a child - - let himself be taken so advantage of. Never let himself be touched when he did not wish it. Never let himself be used - - at least not against his will - - in all that time. He'd made a vow not - - and perhaps he'd chosen to forget because it was easier than admitting that he'd grown sloppy enough and careless enough to let a rangy lot of mountain bandits and a foreigner overcome him and rob him of his dignity.

And Sano had known. Sano had known. All this time and Sano never said a word.

Betrayal. Embarrassment. Shame.

Sano had known and kept the secret. Sano had pressed him into the very bed he sat within the shadow of, and done the same to him. That's all he could recall of the event. That single moment of clarity when physical act and memory collided and he'd panicked and tried to stop it and been too drunk or Sano too determined for it to work.

Kenshin pressed his forehead against his knees, trembling, trying very hard to separate past from present. There had been more than that. He knew there had been more than that moment of panic. He was reasonable enough, even in his frenzy, to realize that Sano was no rapist. He was reasonable enough to fathom that even drunk, he was no easy target. Which meant - - which meant that he'd had a hand in it. Which meant - - oh, gods - - that he'd betrayed more than one vow and this one willingly.

"Kao - -" His lips froze on her name. He couldn't even utter it, so bitterly had he shamed himself and her. He hadn't meant to. Oh, he truly hadn't meant to. Had no notion of how he'd been drawn so far afield. Other than - - than the fact that it was Sano - - and Sano had always made him do and think things that ran contrary to what seemed proper. Even before he'd looked on her as anything other than a young woman who needed protection - - Sano had gotten under his skin with his attitude and his humor, his youth and his utter fearlessness and his lack of abashedness of putting hands on a body, or flinging a long arm around shoulders and hauling a man close enough to feel the heat of his body. And when Sano had gone - - he had taken a great chunk of the light with him and great chunk of the joy and the heat and perhaps that had been a good thing, because an honest man raising a family didn't need the distraction or the temptation. In whatever forms they offered themselves.

Oh, what had he done? Nausea rose with alarming suddenness and he lurched to his feet and towards the chamber pot and emptied the contents of his stomach there. Wove his way unsteadily back to the bed after that, miserable and still sick, the room swimming with vicious tenacity. He flopped down and lay there, atop the sheets, the room humid and warm and spinning around him. One of the large, soft, goose feather stuffed pillows offered some comfort, though it smelled faintly of Sano.

What was the worse crime on Sano's part, keeping the fact of what the bandits had done a secret when a man had a right to know such a thing - - or laying him himself when he was so drunk he hadn't the wit to realize the implications. Strangely enough, the act in and of itself bothered him not half so much as the sense of betrayal it brought with it.

Kaoru and Kenji trust in him betrayed without a second thought. Had he thought of them at all? Of her? He was quite certain he hadn't, or he'd not have allowed the situation to progress.

Kenshin phased out soon after and came back to himself, hot and sweaty, the noonday sun slanting in from the window with not a bit of breeze to cool it. He was marginally more clear headed with a few hours hangover induced sleep behind him. Marginally more capable of remembering bits and pieces of what had transpired last night. He blushed pink and sat there, forehead pressed to knees, groaning in acute embarrassment at the singular memory of himself very adamantly trying to rip Sano's clothes from his body.

At the time, it had seemed the thing to do. At the time, getting to Sano's skin - - all of Sano's skin - - had been his adamant, single-minded goal. One had to admit - - reluctantly and through a red haze of embarrassment - - that the memories of it, easing their way back now that his head was not pounding quite so alarmingly, were tinged with a great sense of arousal. Even now and things stirred rebelliously when he recalled the moment when Sano's mouth had drifted down and found his - - no, no, no!

He had to forcefully steer thought away from that avenue. Had to recall discipline and will power and simple common sense. Taking pleasure from the memory was not the way to redemption. He didn't know if there was a method for that. It was done and there was no denying it. He'd been foolish enough and weak enough to let himself slip and now had to deal with it.

It occurred to him that she didn't have to know. It would be so much easier to just forget it and pretend it hadn't happened - - but there was the insurmountable problem of Sano. And Sano couldn't just be forgotten and Kenshin knew, all simple solutions aside, that he was not that good a liar and that the secret would eat him up inside until he was rotten and sick.

So he'd talk to her, when they were back home and rely on her capacity for forgiveness, for assuredly, it was greater than his own.

Sano was a bigger problem and the one presently closest at hand, Sano being Sano and not level headed and not prone to reason and not likely to forget things like sleights and nights of drink induced passion. What had he said to him when he'd first woken, disoriented and filled with the imagery of the nightmare that had driven him from sleep? Most certainly nothing gentle - - if Sano's hasty departure was any indication. Kenshin couldn't recall the exchange. He recalled the pain of glass piercing his flesh and the panic and very little else.

Kenshin sat there, chewing his lip, focusing very hard on remembering what he'd said to chase Sano out that morning - - but all that really came to mind were remembrances of the nightmare that was based very solidly in reality and he shied away from that with a passion, not ready to deal with that particular newly awakened information just yet.

The sun was far past the noonday position, indicating he'd slept the morning away, immersed in the throes of hangover. Present troubles aside, there were other things to be checked on. The ship for one and how far along the repairs were coming. If they were ahead of schedule, he'd hate to be left in the dark and miss the ride and doubted very much Saitou would make much of an effort to track him down to relay the information.

His hakama and gi were cleaned and pressed, but the sweltering humidity made him think twice about donning them. What he'd worn yesterday had been by far cooler and the pieces of it were handily strewn within hands reach on the end of the bed and upon the floor next to it. He blushed and took a moment to compose himself, before scooping up the loose trousers and pulling them on.

He ate a very simple breakfast of ripe fruit bought from a vendor on the way to the docks and found the ship easily from the workmen swarming the deck, fastening the new mast in place. It seemed far along to being finished, from his estimation, but he readily admitted to no expertise in the area and went to seek out one of the mates to discover the new time of departure. He found Saitou instead, lounging on the dock, smoking, conversing with an islander in the uniform of either the local militia or the police. Saitou saw Kenshin and said a low word to his companion and the man nodded, walking off into the lightly populated dockside.

"Making friends already?" Kenshin asked without smiling, not trusting Saitou or Saitou's motives in the least.

Saitou lifted a brow at him, dark eyes sweeping up and down his body.

"You look like a teenaged girl on the way to work the fields, in that."

Kenshin returned the flat stare with an emotionless one of his own. "When is the ship leaving?"

Saitou shrugged. "Tonight. If all goes well."

"Ahead of schedule. Were you planning on telling me?"

Saitou flicked ash between their feet and smiled that humorless smile of his. "I trusted you'd find out. And if you didn't -... " Saitou waved the hand with the cigarette. "-... oh, well."

Kenshin nodded, irritated and trying to keep it off his face. All he needed was Saitou getting the better of him to make this day perfect. "I'll remember that, next time you need something from me."

"And that would be ... when exactly?"

"What time tonight?"

"An hour after dusk, when the tides go out."

"Fine." Kenshin turned to leave, mentally calculating how much time he had until the ship sailed. Saitou's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"So you and Sagara had a little spat." It wasn't a question.

Kenshin blinked, and turned, staring suspiciously at the taller man.

"How do ... why do you say?"

"He was by earlier. Got the remainder of his possessions from the cabin. Said something along the lines of finding other passage ... with better company. I assume the two of you had some sort of disagreement."

"Where ... did he say he was going?" Kenshin ground out, fighting the rising nausea.

"He didn't."

"And you didn't ask?"

Saitou smiled and inclined his head. "When good fortune smiles . . ."

Kenshin swore under his breath, spinning and stalking away. A few hours to find Sano and try to deal with this problem they'd gotten themselves into. Oh, he most sorely did not wish to loose Sano to this. Most certainly did not want to track down and face the Englishman and whatever forces he had at his beck and call with only Saitou to rely on. He needed Sano in this. He needed Sano to protect his back and his interests should something happen to him. He trusted Sano with everything that was precious to him - - with getting Kaoru and Kenji back if he couldn't.

He needed for Sano not to hate him for something he couldn't quite recall saying. He needed a few precious moments to think and he didn't think he would get them.

Chapter Seventeen

Sano was angry. Furious. Indignant. As pissed off as he could easily remember being.

It was easier to bear than being embarrassed. Most anything was easier to swallow than feeling the fool. So he did what he always had done when his dignity was on the line, he worked himself into a lather of rage and went looking for trouble.

And found it. Oh, there was no problem finding a bit of conflict in this volatile port city, what with the natives uptight over the Spanish government and the Spanish worked up over the American's trying to muscle their way into this lucrative Asian port.

Sano found a barfight the first tavern he stopped in. He kicked a fair amount of ass before high tailing it out of there before the authorities got there to break it up. The second tavern proved less violent and all he got was a few decent drinks and a whore in his lap trying to weasel a little coin from him. If he'd have had enough to appease her, he would have gladly taken her upstairs and spent an hour or two proving what a man he was - - with a woman under him instead of a fucking high-strung, temperamental samurai.

Oh, fuck - - but he'd fouled things up good and proper. Should have known better. Should have figured it would backfire. He was a fool - - there, he'd admitted it - - for letting all those weeks of - - what, lust? Longing? Childish infatuation over Kenshin lead him into something so damned stupid. So damned irrevocable. Just because Kenshin had been forced from necessity to rely on him - - to depend on him instead of the other way around - - it didn't mean he was ready to jump into bed with him. It shouldn't have meant anything more than one friend relying on the other and he - - he had managed to twist it somehow.

Of course, Kenshin had been the one to jump him, not the other way around. Sano remembered that with crystal clarity. He might have been thinking about it for weeks on end - - but damned if Kenshin hadn't been the one to initiate it. Damned annoying little tease to draw a man into a compromising situation - - to engage in it wholeheartedly and then cry bloody murder when it was said and done. Like Sano was responsible for what Kenshin decided to do when he was drunk past all hope of coherency.

To hell with him. Forever. And forever was probably how it was going to be, because a man didn't just shrug something like that off. A man just didn't wake up after fucking another man - - a friend - - and pretend it hadn't happened. They'd never forget it, either one of them and Sano lamented that - - amidst the anger that kept him from tears.

He found a game, but his luck had turned and he lost what little coin he'd had left and more and had to fight his way out of that situation, with a half dozen angry natives wanting to take the money out of his hide. He showed them he was no easy pickings and went on his way, penniless now, and desolate. He had one more night paid up at the inn, before he'd be out on the streets, but he wasn't prepared to go back yet, just in case Kenshin went there to get his stuff before the ship sailed. If Sano didn't find work on a ship, he'd be in deep shit, with no one here to weasel a meal out of, or a place to sleep.

A pack of native bully boys tried to rob him, as he was stalking through a questionable section of town. As if he had anything worth stealing. It was the best luck he'd had all day, and the best chance to truly release frustration. He left them moaning in the alley, and after rifling their pockets found himself a few coin richer.

He went straight to a tavern to spend his newfound wealth on booze and food. He was shoveling down rice and steamed vegetables when Kenshin found him. Just came up on him without a sound and stood there uncertainly until Sano happened to look up and notice him.

Sano's gut clenched, his fists did around the chopsticks. One snapped, the ends falling into his bowl. He hadn't expected to see Kenshin. Really, he hadn't. It was like a physical blow.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Sano - - we need to talk."

"Fuck talk. Don't you have a ship to catch?"

"Not yet. Listen, I just want to - -"

"I don't want to hear it! You said everything that needs saying, so why the hell are you here bothering me now? Go the fuck away. Go find your wife! I've got other plans."

"Sano - - I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sano growled. Oh, he wanted to hit him. Wanted to smash his fist straight into Kenshin's regretful, scarred face. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Nothing happened. Understand? Nothing - - happened."

If he said it enough, maybe it'd turn out to be true. Kenshin's eyes flickered down the bar, to the other patrons, who were casting them wary looks.

"That's not true." Kenshin said softly.

"No?" Sano sneered. The blood was pounding so hard behind his eyes, it made his vision waver.

"Will you talk with me? Somewhere where we won't draw a crowd."

"I don't want to talk to you. And you don't want anything to do with me, remember?"

"Sano - -" Kenshin's hand hovered over his shoulder. Kenshin thought better of touching him. For a number of reasons, all of them valid. "Please, Sano. I need you to talk with me."

"Why?" Suspiciously.

Kenshin just stared, hair falling into his eyes, mouth set in a worried frown. He took a step away, then another, turning finally and walking out. Sano sat there and swore. He should just let Kenshin wait - - he wouldn't stay for long and endanger his chances of catching that ship. He'd take off and leave Sano in peace and that would be that. But, even when he hated him, Kenshin had a draw on him that was irrefutable.

Sano threw back the last of his drink and rose, scowling at the looks that followed him. Out into the afternoon, looking one way, then the other to catch sight of Kenshin. There he was, standing at the edge of the tavern, at the mouth of the narrow alley between buildings. Sano shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled over.

"All right. What do you want? I don't have all day to fool around, you know?"

"Saitou said you were going to find passage on another ship?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Because of - - last night - - this morning? Of what I - - said - - did?" A faint blush stained Kenshin's pale cheeks, a line marred the space between his brows.

Sano shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe I'm just tired of this trip."

"I don't remember everything I said, Sano. Obviously, you do. I was upset - - startled. I didn't expect to - -" He couldn't finish it. Just couldn't get the words past the embarrassed lump in his throat.

"You said you were going to kill me if I didn't get out. You acted like it was my fault. Obviously, you don't remember shit."

Kenshin blinked. "I wouldn't! You know I wouldn't. I didn't mean it, Sano."

"You did at the time. If you'd have had a sword, I bet money I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now."

"Then you don't know me at all, if you believe that. I was just - - upset."

"Yeah, from waking up and finding out you'd just fucked me." There, he said it, plain as day and just as bold. Maybe he expected to floor Kenshin with the bald truth. Maybe he was just looking for a little honest emotion to cross Kenshin's face. Something he could latch onto and vindicate his own indignation. He wanted a little disgust. A little hatred of Kenshin's own.

He got anger. He got a finger stabbed in his chest and Kenshin up in his face, pissed off of a sudden.

"No, from waking up and remembering that those bastards up in the mountains had fucked me, you ass!"

Sano stared, off balance. He didn't honestly think he'd ever heard Kenshin use that particular term before. And there is was, even more blatant truth from Kenshin. Blatant and painful and stark and Sano would just as well have erased it from memory. But Kenshin wasn't about to let it go. It was new to him and it was as terrible and bloody a memory, no doubt, as any atrocity he'd witnessed during the revolution.

"And you never told me! You knew - - you had to know and you kept it from me. Why?" Kenshin hissed at him.

It knocked the anger out of him. It made him take a step backwards, trying to gather the wits to answer.

"I took care of them. The one's that did it." He muttered.

Kenshin opened his mouth. Shut it. Turned his head and took several breaths. "That's not what I asked. I asked why you never told me."

"Because - - because you had enough problems - - because I thought maybe if you didn't remember - - that maybe that was for the best."

"And you think you know what's best for me." That came out low and laced with sarcasm.

"Maybe. Maybe at the time - - yeah." Sano had to defend his silence. Had to save face and pride when all he really wanted to do was crawl away from this subject and this confrontation. What a coward he was.

"Well, you don't know as much as you think, Sanosuke."

How the hell had Kenshin managed to turn the tables on him. Managed to suck the righteous anger out of Sano and take it for himself. "Fine." Sano said, done with it. "I don't know shit. Sorry. You don't have to worry about me making assumptions any more."

Sano started walking, shoving his hands in his pockets, staring blindly at the faces he passed. Devoid of destination. He didn't hear Kenshin attempt to follow. All of that said and they hadn't managed to address the real source of embarrassment. Not really. Kenshin had skimmed right over it, going for the old wounds instead of the new. If Kenshin wanted to pretend it hadn't happened - - then fine.

"Sano - -"

Kenshin had slipped up on him, all silent and unobtrusive in his slim black clothing. Sano flinched, swearing under his breath. "Make some goddamned noise when you walk."

"This conversation wasn't supposed to go like this - - it wasn't." Kenshin ignored the complaint. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

"Sano - -"

"Go catch your damned ship."

"I need you."

Oh, that made Sano's heart skip a beat. Made the blood pound a little harder in his head. He managed not to waver in his pace or his foreword glare. "You don't need me."

"I do. I can't do this without you." Kenshin held up a bandaged hand. Not thick bandages anymore, for the wounds were fully scabbed over and the scars beginning to get shiny with new skin, just enough clean cloth to keep dirt and grime from impeding the healing process. But his fingers were still stiff and his grip still weak.

"What, you need somebody to carry your stuff? Get Saitou."

"No. You know - - - no, Sano. I don't trust Saitou. I trust you."

Sano stopped, grinding his teeth. Well and truly fed up with the banter and the evasion. He'd never skirted saying anything that needed saying in the past, why was he keeping it bottled up now?

"Damnit, Kenshin, you want to just pretend it never happened? You want to just go on with things like they were before. There's no getting around what you and I did last night. Its not going to go away. I'm not going to forget it as much as I'd like to and you sure as hell aren't no matter what you pretend."

"Sano - - " oh, he was distraught now, round eyed and pale and wanting - - very badly wanting, Sano thought, Sano to shut his mouth and put on a facade. Sano wasn't going to do it. Sano refused to do it. Absolutely refused to make things neat and clean and pat for him.

"I don't want to hear it, Kenshin. We fucked. You and me. It might have been a mistake, but it happened. Shit, you might have been drunk enough that you actually thought I was Kaoru - - I don't know - - but I imagine you figured it out by the end." He had to add a wicked grin to that last, even though humor was the last emotion he felt.

"I knew." Kenshin said softly, and the eyes flickered down, off to the side - - Kenshin being a coward when he hardly ever backed down from anything - - whether he was afraid of it or not.

It caught Sano off guard, that admission. He hadn't expected it. He'd given Kenshin an out and he hadn't taken it.

"Really?"

"You're taller."

Sano chewed his lip, trying to decide whether that had been said in humor or not. It was hard to tell with Kenshin.

"Yeah, well - - it was a mistake, all the same."

"A terrible mistake." Kenshin agreed.

"Okay. Okay - - then just let me walk away from it."

"I can't. I need you."

"Too fucking bad."

"Sano - - I don't hate you. I don't think less of you - - I don't blame you."

"Look me in the eye and say that."

Kenshin's patience was usually boundless. He hissed in frustration now.

"Yeah, I get it." Sano said and he thought he did finally, and it hurt. "You have a use for me. I serve a purpose, so you'll overlook the - - indiscretion. Hell, maybe you even fucked me because you figured it was a good way to keep me dogging your heels. You didn't really have to."

"No . . ."

"No? No? Then you were so damned drunk that it didn't matter what you got into bed with, is that it? Doesn't matter either way. I'm finished. Give me a little credit for a some pride, if you don't mind."

"Sano - -"

Sano lifted a hand and Kenshin shut up. Just clamped his teeth tight and kept his silence. Sano didn't know if he got satisfaction out of that or not. Didn't know much of anything save that he had to turn his back on Kenshin and walk away other wise he'd do something entirely too embarrassing and at the moment, his bruised and battered ego wasn't up to enduring embarrassment along with all the other pain that made his gut churn and his heart ache.

Better just to walk away.

Yes, Kenshin had been drunk last night. Farther gone that he could recall being in a very, very long time. He'd never had a head for it, so he'd never indulged much, survival being more important for the most part, than the oblivion brought on by sake or wine or beer or whatever spirit his circumstance allowed him to partake of. He had been too drunk last night by far - - but not that drunk. Even at his lowest, Kenshin was never that far gone. He'd known who he was with and what he was about. Oh, surely he'd known that - - he just hadn't cared.

Looking back, with all the other emotional shrapnel out of the way, the drink hadn't fogged his mind as much as made certain things imminently clear. He'd wanted Sano and wanted him badly. And he'd gotten him.

Loyalty and embarrassment and obligation aside, the drink had simply freed up his inhibitions enough to act on an impulse that had been dogging him for - - how long, now? He wasn't quite sure. Dwelling on it now, trying to hash it out and understand it, wasn't going to help him stop Sano from leaving. That would take something else.

Sano's long stride was taking him out of view, swallowed by the crowd and the bend in the avenue. Kenshin hurried to catch up and found himself dogging Sano's trail back towards the hotel. He slowed a bit, gauging that Sano would be more likely retreat into the privacy the room offered if he didn't think Kenshin was on his heels. Sano wouldn't want to be cornered. Sano was skittish enough at the moment to prefer the safety of crowds and strangers to four blind walls. So he let him go in one his own, and gave him enough time to climb the narrow stair and get into that room that smelled of oil and sex and sweat.

Then he followed, silent as a wraith upon the stairs and the creaky hall and tried the door which Sano hadn't bothered to lock.

"God!" Sano swore, exasperated and distraught around the eyes until he got his emotions under control and managed to bring back the anger. "Will you leave me the fuck alone, Kenshin."

"I can't.' Kenshin shut the door and stood with his back against it, hands pressed flat against the wood, fingers stretched out so that taught tendons and muscles sent shivers of pain up his arms. Sometimes a body needed a little pain to clear the head. He took a breath - - another - - and whispered.

"You're my friend - - no matter what - - you're my friend - - my truest friend - - and I don't know what happened between us - - or how - - but I don't regret it - - and I don't hold it against you - - and I won't lose you over it."

"Like you have the only say?" Sano sneered, fists clenched, standing there spay legged in the center of the room defensively, as if he expected attack.

"I love you." There. He'd said it. It was as true a statement as any he'd made. As true as when he said it to Kaoru; as true as any vow he'd ever made to himself.

Sano stood there, wide eyed, flabbergasted - - as if Kenshin had hit him hard enough in the gut to knock the wind from him.

"What?" it was weakly asked, a strangled, shocked question.

Having said it once, Kenshin wasn't sure he could get it out again. "You heard me, Sano," He stared at the floor between his feet and Sano's, at the tiny slivers of broken glass that glinted on the floor. He felt lightheaded of a sudden and lost - - for somewhere along the way he'd come to the conclusion - - maybe between the street and this room, or the doorway and Sano's shocked face - - that there was no price he would be unwilling to pay to keep Sano's company.

"I don't think anybody's ever - - actually said that to me before." Sano said very softly - - Kenshin could hardly hear him. He looked up and Sano's face was drained of blood, as white as Kenshin's own.

"No?" It wasn't hard to believe. It had been a hard world Sano had grown up in. That they both had - - strewn with strife and revolution and violence - - "I'm sorry - -" I've loved you for years. But that didn't sound right, did it? A man just didn't say that to another man. Confusion and desperation were making his heart race and his hands shake. He wanted Sano's face to melt into that lazy, sly expression he wore so often - - He wanted Sano to nod and accept it and to come over and clap him on the shoulder and say that he understood and that things were okay between them - - even if they weren't, really.

He wanted he fantasy, because he'd found, the last few years that living the fantasy was so much more pleasant and so much easier than stark reality. Living the fantasy and ignoring the rest had been what had gotten him into this situation to begin with.

Sano did come over, careful and slow and stood with his toes almost touching Kenshin's, his shadow blocking out the light from the curtained window.

"You mean it?"

Sigh. Oh, he was certain by the roiling nausea in his gut that he did. He couldn't voice it again - - not yet. So he nodded, swallowing back the bile.

"It's fucked up, isn't it?" Sano lifted a hand, callused fingertips tracing the path of the pale scar on Kenshin's cheek.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault." Sano said, suddenly generous ,and slid closer, until his sandals were touching Kenshin's. He pulled Kenshin against him and rested his chin on the top of Kenshin's head. And there was the sound of his heart again and the smell of his skin and Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against Sano's shoulder to block it out.

If this was what Sano needed to forgive - - to regain his sense of dignity - - to shake off the embarrassment - - then it was a fair price. Tentatively he slid his hands around Sano's waist, up a lean back to rangy, broad shoulders. He pressed his lips to the hollow of Sano's neck.

"You'll come with me?"

Sano nodded, breathless, voiceless, easy to forgive at the right urging - - at least his body at any rate.

"This - - this isn't - - just so I'll help with - - them? Not that I don't want to - - and all - - " he finally found the words - - and he couldn't utter Kaoru's name any easier than Kenshin could.

"No." Kenshin murmured. And it might have been true. Or it might not have. He didn't know. "Sano - - we can't miss the ship."

"Ship? Oh - - right. Ship."

"So, you're coming?" He had to clarify, since Sano was still standing there, warm and solid against him, body quite adamantly decisive and face absolutely devoid of direction. Kenshin backed up the half a step it took to get his back to the door, so he could get a better look at Sano's face - - so he could nudge forward progress, which wasn't going to happen if he didn't get Sano's hands off his body and his own mind off the way Sano smelled.

"Yeah. I'm coming." Sano shook his head, and stepped back of a sudden, one big step that put all the distance in the world between them. He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, half a tentative grin on his lips.

"Good." Kenshin said, rearranging his thoughts with a little twinge of effort, back into a coherent whole. "I can't wait to tell Saitou the good news. He'll be so pleased."

Sano smirked, back in good humor - - or faking it admirably, and said. "Oh, please let me be the one to tell him. I haven't had a good laugh yet, today."

Chapter Eighteen

They left Manila to sail around the islands that made up the Philippines towards the larger islands that made up the collected territories of the Dutch East Indies. They'd dock briefly at one of the eastern ports of Borneo before sailing around the islands and out into the vastness of the Indian Ocean.

So very far from home. Funny how he didn't miss it. What was there to miss, really? Kaoru and Kenji weren't there. Sano wasn't. All the really important things were either ahead of him - - or here - - on this creaking ship - - so what was there to miss?

Kenshin sat on the quarter-deck, with his back to the neatly coiled rope at the base of one of the masts, absorbing the sun and the mild breeze and the sight and sound a no less than two dozen gulls that flapped noisily about the ship. They'd come from the coast of one of the islands, though land itself was out of visual range. The sailors tossed them chunks of bread now and then, saying they were good luck. As if luck could be gotten from a raucous bird. As if a man didn't have to make his own luck.

Sano had a tremendous amount. But it came in unpredictable spurts. He'd had it last night, when they'd just made it to the ship before the gangplanks pulled up and the anchor raised. Saitou hadn't been pleased to see him. Saitou had actually looked surprised, if such a thing were possible, for those first few seconds after Sano had sauntered up the gangplank after Kenshin - - which in and of itself hadn't been a particular problem, save that Sano was feeling full of himself and Sano had opened his mouth and kept it open when a wise man would have shut it and somehow or another, while Kenshin was checking on the status of his sword and the rest of his few belongings left shipboard, Sano and Saitou had gotten into something more than a verbal argument.

Kenshin had come back up on deck to the crew's yelling and men scampering and crying of 'man overboard', and of ropes attached to life preservers thrown over the side and into the dark ocean below. And there had been Saitou standing by the rail casually sucking on a cigarette, as calm as he might be if say, it had been the shimmer of a fish on the waves below instead of a man.

They'd pulled Sano up, dripping and sputtering and furious and it had taken Kenshin and three of the sailors to wrestle him below deck and away from Saitou. Kenshin got a bloody nose for his efforts, along with a few other choice bruises, but at least Sano didn't go overboard again, which was what probably would have happened if he'd actually gotten close enough to Saitou to try and lay a hand.

So Sano had been grumpy all the rest of the night, choosing silence as a salve for his ego. It hadn't stopped Saitou from coming back to the cabin, as if nothing had happened and settling in his bunk, with his cigarette and a book and a complete disregard for the black looks Sano cast his way. A man could truly despise Saitou at times - - and at others respect the absolute cool he exuded. He never flinched, he never gave way - - his facade - - if it was a facade at all - - had always been faultless.

When Sano had left, not so cool and not so detached, in a fit of anger, Kenshin had sat there, back against the wall of his own bunk and said softly.

"What were you trying to do? Drown him?"

"Sagara's a strong swimmer. He probably would have made it back to shore."

Kenshin narrowed his eyes, quite suddenly afflicted by a surge of hot anger, and anger was no way to deal with Saitou. "You play with his life and I won't have it."

Saitou looked up from his book, one narrow brow arching. "He plays with his life. If he acts like a fool, then sooner or later he'll find the end of one."

"He's not a fool. He's brash - - and young and you know this."

"Perhaps. It doesn't mean I suffer him when he gets in my face."

"Learn." Kenshin said softly.

"Is that - - a threat?" Saitou seemed amused. Perhaps he had a right to be, with Kenshin so miserably out of fighting shape. They both knew that Kenshin would never be the swordsman he had in the revolution and that had little enough to do with the injuries that Winter had caused. But perhaps, after fifteen years, neither was Saitou.

"Take it as you will. But keep in mind, Sano's not incompetent - - he has value, whether you'd admit it or not and we're short on allies in this. Foolish to disregard the ones we have."

"I thought the two of you had parted ways." Saitou said, slowly taking a drag from the dregs of his cigarette. "Sagara seemed adamant of it."

A man had to be grateful for the dim light of the single flickering lantern next to Saitou. A man had to lower his head and let loose hair slid forward to hide the stain on his cheeks from all too sharp eyes.

"As I said - - he's brash. Easy to temper and easy to forgive."

"What exactly, did you do to require forgiveness, Kenshin?"

"There was a misunderstanding." He said softly, for not to have answered would have roused more speculation.

"Hummm," Saitou mused, then turned back to his book.

That had been the first night back on shipboard, but Sano was over his sulk the next day, if not his agitation with Saitou. He came around while Kenshin was watching the gulls and stood at the rail, the tail of his coat flapping, revealing the taut line of his lower back. A man ought not his eyes be drawn to that intriguing line of flesh, even if he'd seen more - - not seemly to be caught staring in the light of day, when he was sober and had control of his wits. No matter what he said to Sano - - or insinuated to salve Sano's wounds - - there were other considerations to weigh. There were the shreds of honor to gather - - and loyalty to a woman. And he was damned old enough not to let the whims of his body dictate the path of his actions, even if he couldn't keep his eyes off of Sano. Wasn't he?

Sano turned about, leaning back against the rail, dark, black rimmed eyes fixed on Kenshin, wide mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, as if he knew of the internal struggle and found it amusing.

"You're in a better mood." Kenshin said, because he had to say something to ease the thickness of the air.

Sano cocked his head and shrugged, muscles playing under smooth flesh, sunlight glinting off the shining disarray of wind tossed hair. Ah, gods, but Kenshin was lost - - surely, surely lost to be so fascinated by small details. He dropped his head onto his knees and thought horrible things about himself and his will power and his common sense. He'd damn well known what to expect of Sano - - on this ship, in the aftermath of what had happened in Manila - - and had had every intention of holding firm control of the situation - - of steering Sano on a path of his choosing. He'd rationalized all of that before they'd even sat foot back on this ship - - come to the stark realization that he might have to give something to get what he needed - - which was Sano's presence and Sano's trust and Sano's loyalty. A cold, deliberate decision to be sure - - and one to feel regret over making - - but it hadn't swayed him in that room - - not with Kaoru's life in the balance. But now - - at this moment - - this painfully casual moment - - he had the frightening premonition that rationalization and reason were flighty things indeed when it came to Sano and that his ability to steer anything would be tenuous at best. Most especially when there was an ache between his legs and a flutter in his belly just sitting there, caught in a silent exchange.

"You okay? You look pale." Sano finally spoke.

"I'm fine. Where did you sleep last night?"

Sano shrugged. "Played dice with the crew and passed out on the floor in crew's quarters. They were okay with it. Better the floor than that narrow-eyed bastard's company."

"Don't fight with him. He doesn't play fair." And he's better than you, but Kenshin would never say that out loud, unless he wanted contention.

"You taking his side?" Sano's eyes flashed.

"No." Kenshin held up a hand. "I'd just rather you stayed out of the water."

Sano's face tensed up, on the verge of anger, very much embarrassed at that painful memory. "Yeah, well - - he tricked me, the dirty bastard."

"You made the first move." Kenshin said flatly.

"Who told you that? Saitou?" Sano curled his fists indignantly.

"The other passenger who saw." The only other Japanese passenger who had timidly approached Kenshin afterwards and asked if 'the young man' was well after his tumble over the railing.

"Oh." Sano deflated, having no argument there. "Well - - he was asking for it."

That said, Sano ambled over and sat down against the coil of rope with Kenshin. "You gonna sit out here all day?"

"It's a nice day. I thought perhaps I might practice a little on deck."

Sano gave him an odd look. A questioning one. "I don't think I've ever seen you practice before, Kenshin."

Kenshin smiled wryly, holding up a hand and flexing the fingers. His hand was stiff, hard to curl into a fist. It twinged trying it, but he did it anyway. His grip would be tenuous on a hilt, but it would never improve unless he forced it. And he hadn't much time.

"These hands need work."

"Okay." Sano said. "A little work out sounds good. I'll help."

Kenshin lifted a brow. "That's a very kind offer, but - -"

"I know, I know." Sano lifted a hand. "Everybody knows the swords not my thing, but we're working on your grip here. That I can help with."

Like he'd said to Kenshin, Sano wasn't a swordsman, or anything close to it, but he'd been around enough of them - - the really good ones - - to know when a man's center was off. And Kenshin was off his. It had been hard to tell, back in Sendai when Kenshin had taken down the Yakuza boss's bodyguard, but standing on the deck of the ship, with no distractions save for the swell of waves and the creak of the ship - - it was easier to see just how badly Kenshin was off his game. Whether it was the recent injuries or years of playing house-husband in Tokyo, Sano didn't know. But he wanted to help, so he played whacking board for Kenshin, himself gripping a makeshift sword fashioned out of a thick bit of board. It wasn't a sparring match by any means. It was simply Kenshin seeing how much punishment he could withstand by the constant jarring of bone and muscle and flesh that came with every impact against Sano's wooden weapon. He was sweating after a half hour, and pale as snow, but his eyes were narrowed with determination and Sano's wooden sword dented and chipped along the length from the impact with the dull side of the Sakabatou. After an hour, Sano noticed a stain of blood on the wrappings of his right hand.

Now, Sano was a big believer in the 'no pain, no gain' philosophy, after all, everything of worth he'd ever learned in his life, had come with a great deal of effort and agony - - but this had gone far enough for one day. Megumi had told him, before they'd left, not to let Kenshin overdue it. She'd entrusted him with responsibility to keep Kenshin from harming himself, Megumi knowing Kenshin well enough to guess that he'd push himself past the point of good sense in his endeavor to save Kaoru and Kenji. The fact that she'd had this serious conversation with Sano, on the walk from the dojo to the docks, had been, in and of itself, a flattering thing. Megumi had never made bones over the fact that she thought Sano irresponsible and irascible and Sano had never gone to the trouble to prove her wrong.

Well, it was very likely that he might actually be one of those two things - - but a man never much liked a woman to point it out - - and a man had to admit to trying diligently to live up to her requests when she flew in the face of her convictions and placed responsibility at his feet. Not that he wouldn't have looked after Kenshin on his own - - it was just that she'd given him more specific things to attend to. Things that Kenshin hadn't been in much of a state of mind to stand still and listen to, as aflutter as he'd been over the prospect of boarding that ship and taking sail after wife and child. Things like how to properly clean the wounds and make sure infection didn't start under the scabs and keeping the bandages clean and watching for bleeding and so on. She'd given him a pot of herbal salve and a box of clean bandages and for the most part he'd kept a close enough eye on Kenshin.

"That's enough." Sano said, sitting the end of his stick on the deck.

"No." Kenshin said, with that narrow eyed look on his face that said that his concentration was focused and unwavering.

"Your hand's bleeding." Sano pointed out. "Bet it hurts like hell."

"Go find dinner." Kenshin suggested, a parchment thin attempt to rid himself of Sano's presence.

"Nope." Sano stepped up close. Closer than a man ought to another man with a naked blade in his hand and that look in his eye. He put his hand over Kenshin's wrist and the other over the hilt of the sword between Kenshin's fingers and the guard. Kenshin blinked up at him in surprise, a little shocked at the indignity of Sano daring to touch his sword when he was in the midst of trying to use it.

"You've got blood on the hilt." Sano said, prying Kenshin's fingers off. Kenshin relented, drawing in a soft, little hiss of breath as he tried to straighten his fingers. "Miss Megumi said not to overdue it."

Kenshin opened his mouth - - shut it - - not happy with the blood or the warning.

Sano grinned down at him, sword still in hand. "Hey, I'm not being all girlish about it, or anything - - it's just that hands take a while to heal - - believe me, I know, and if you push it - - you know, mess things up in the process - - it takes twice as long. So use some of that patience you always used to tell me to practice and let it rest for today."

A pause, then a slight inclination of Kenshin's head. He held out his hand for the sword and Sano gave it to him. Kenshin frowned at the blood on the hilt, then slid it home into the scabbard.

"C'mon." Sano tugged at Kenshin's sleeve. "Let's go rebandage that, then we can both get dinner."

The fates were smiling on him. Saitou wasn't in the cabin, nor had been for a while, if the relative freshness of the air were any indication. Oh, the cabin smelled well enough of stale smoke, but no faint cloud of it hung at the ceiling indicating recent exhalation.

Sano knelt on the floor between Kenshin's knees and unwrapped the old bandages. The scab on his palm had cracked and was seeping blood. Little wonder with all the jarring impacts. Sano washed it and dabbed salve on, then rewrapped the hand with clean white bandages. The other hand was coming along better, but then, it was Kenshin's right hand that bore the brunt of the impact in swordplay.

"Here, let me see again." Sano opened up his palm, waiting, and after a beat, Kenshin laid his right hand there. Sano straightened the fingers, bending them back just a little, stretching tendons that had healed too tight. He used his thumb to massage the fleshy part of Kenshin's palm, avoiding the tender center and Kenshin winced and endured it until the stiffness and the pain must have eased and what Sano was about began to relax the cramps in his hand. He dropped his head and the hair not caught up in the tail at his neck slid forward, covering eyes and cheeks, leaving just a sliver of his pale face visible.

Sano retrieved the other hand and repeated the exercise. He should have been doing this for a while, working with Kenshin's hands in a way that Kenshin couldn't, before they healed the wrong way - - but it wasn't the sort of thing a man was comfortable with, taking another man's hands between his, gentle and intimate - - not without feeling awkward. It didn't feel so awkward now - - after he'd been in closer contact than palm against palm, fingertip against fingertip. He liked the feel of Kenshin's fingers, long and slender against his thicker digits. Even wounded, Kenshin's hands were graceful, the motions he made, the economy of movement.

He lifted the hand trapped in his up to his face, brushing the back of Kenshin's fingers along his jaw.

"Are you going to grow a beard?" Kenshin asked softly, head still lowered, eyes shadowed and hard to see from under the hair.

Sano grinned. His ability to grow facial hair was sporadic at best, but was getting better. Damned better than it was when he was 18, at least.

"Haven't shaved in the last few days. Been distracted. You think I'd look good with one?"

"Hnh." Kenshin pulled his hand gently from Sano's loose grasp. "I think - - and please don't take offense - - you'd look like a ruffian."

"I thought I was a ruffian?" Hard to take offense when he was between Kenshin's legs. He put a hand on Kenshin's thigh, between knee and hip and used to lever himself up off his heels and forward onto his knees. It put him at eye level and pressed close enough to Kenshin to feel the heat of his body.

Kenshin looked up, plum colored eyes wary through the concealing veil of bangs. He didn't quite edge away, but his body tensed, just a little. It made Sano wonder if he was having second thoughts. If those conciliatory things he'd spouted in the room back in Manila had been just that - - conciliatory and empty. He hadn't actually said he'd wanted Sano's hands on him again - - just that other - - those bone jarring, heart-wrenching, breath-taking words that Kenshin had refused to utter a second time. The first time had been enough.

"You okay?" Sano hadn't the grace to begin to know how to ask if Kenshin had meant those words. At the time he hadn't doubted. A man didn't utter such things unless he meant them - - did he? Especially an honest man. Kenshin wasn't a liar. He wasn't deceitful.

"I'm okay, Sano." Somberly said.

Sano didn't have much tact in him, or gentle manners when it came to certain things. He snaked a hand out and tangled in the hair caught up at the nape of Kenshin's neck, and swooped in to kiss him. Sober this time and lucid and needing desperately to see if it was the same. Kenshin didn't lift his hands, didn't open his mouth - - just sat there, placidly and let Sano's mouth work at discovering the shape and the texture of his lips - - like it was a chore that needed doing, that he didn't particularly like, but submitted to anyways. Sano would have believed that and taken it to heart like a blade through flesh, if he hadn't felt the growing stiffness between Kenshin's legs, trapped between their bellies, hot and insistent and utterly candid. That inspired him, that encouraged him to wrap an arm around Kenshin's waist and pull him forward to the very edge of the bunk, molding him firmly to Sano's body and Sano's eager erection. Kenshin made a sound then, an involuntary little moan and his lips parted giving Sano a way in, and tongues met and retreated and rushed in again to clash. Warm and moist and sweet. More so when Kenshin wound his arms round Sano's neck, fingers weeding across his shoulders and through his hair.

Oh, and wasn't that the nicest thing, right out in the light of day, and sober enough to appreciate it for what it was. Sano swelled even more with the acceptance, if that were possible. He lost his hold on patience and surged up, toppling the body against his backwards and trapping it between wall and bunk and his own weight. He thrust a hand between them, worming his fingers between the openings of Kenshin's clothing, trying to reach warm flesh. Found the soft, smooth skin of Kenshin's belly and worked his hand lower. Kenshin groaned and arched, wantonly spreading his thighs wider in a reflexive urge to give Sano better access and yet, a moment later, his hands began to push insistently against Sano's shoulders.

"Wait - - Sano - - wait." A breathless gasp, a moan as Sano squeezed him hard.

"For what?" Focus on anything but the body under his did not come easy. He had Kenshin's erection in his hand and that was not a thing that a man undertook with divided attention. He wanted badly to get the clothes off Kenshin or at least the pertinent ones.

"Sano, get off!" Kenshin pushed harder, twisting his hips to shift both their body weights. Sano lost balance and withdrew his hand hastily to try and save himself a fall. He wasn't quite fast enough, tangled as he was with Kenshin legs and Kenshin's clothing. He hit with a thump and sat there, glaring, an embarrassed flush heating his face.

"What the fuck did you do that for? You said it was okay." That was almost an accusation. Kenshin had, hadn't he? Sano knew he hadn't misunderstood that badly.

"Its the middle of the day, Sano," Kenshin said reasonably, a little flushed himself, his eyes more than a little dilated, his lips dark from Sano's kisses.

"So?"

"In a cabin we share with Saitou."

Saitou. That most hated name. Sano scowled, muttering obscenities to himself. Leave it to Kenshin to use common sense when the body dictated otherwise. If that was all it was.

"You sure, that's it?" A man had to ask.

Kenshin took a breath and the smile came back, pleasant and somewhat wry. "I have to admit, Sano, that I almost wish that it wasn't, really I do, but it is and I truly don't wish to have to explain things to Saitou."

As if things could be explained away. As if Sano could survive the utter humiliating indignity of that narrow-eyed bastard's smug look. The stiffness between his legs went abruptly limp at the very notion. Even nailing Kenshin good and proper - - on Saitou's bunk of all places - - wouldn't quite be worth what he'd have to endure if Saitou himself happened to walk in on the process. If only the damned door had a lock. Maybe something could be arranged. A chair against the knob - - trick wires in the hall outside - - perhaps even more accurately, charms against demons.

The days passed in relative boredom. Kenshin worked at the flexibility of his injured hands, sometimes with Sano's help, sometimes not. He disliked, Sano thought, practicing before witnesses. His disliked displays of skill or technique and more often than not, during the following days, went out in the dead of night, under the moon or the stars to practice on deck when there were fewer eyes open and wakeful enough to spy on him. It was one of those things that he wouldn't speak of, he'd just get that look he sometimes did, wry patience mixed with vague nuances of melancholy, and would either let his silence speak for him, or deftly change the subject. And Sano more often than not, was easily distracted. He had no desire, irritating as Kenshin's evasiveness could sometimes be, to pry into the things Kenshin wished to keep close to himself. Well, not all of the things, at any rate.

If Saitou happened by, Kenshin would stop altogether, and Saitou would smile that humorless smile of his and ask if he might lend a hand or two. He'd be happy to offer Kenshin a real workout, as opposed to what little inept assistance Sano could offer.

No, thank you very much, but I'll do fine on my own.

Narrow-eyed bastard. Inept, my ass.

You're weak on the right. Your stance is off. A toddler could get past your guard. Were Saitou's parting comments.

Kenshin scowled. Sano did, but not, one suspected, for the same reasons.

More days passed. Kenshin's grip grew stronger, though the scabs on his hand bled each night after his prolonged sessions. Though the bleeding grew marginally less.

Sano pursued his own interests in the cabin, directly after Saitou had left to go on deck and take his morning stroll. Amazing how a body had gone years without constantly craving the touch of another - - well, at least not so that it was the foremost focus of one's thoughts - - and now he couldn't get his mind off the idea of finding a bit of privacy with Kenshin so that he could assuage the cravings. Sex had always been fine and good. A need, just like food and warm clothing - - to be taken care of either by himself, which unfortunately was the case more often than not, or by the occasional woman made willing either by coin or charming banter.

He caught Kenshin as he was dressing, pressing him back against the cabin door - - a adequate enough barrier against casual interruption. Mouth over mouth, hands skimming down the lean body he crushed against the wood.

"Sano - - -" Kenshin gasped, when Sano broke from breath. "We've talked about this - - -"

"What? He's gone to do whatever it is he does every morning - - and he won't be back for an hour or so - - so no reason - - not - - to take advantage - -" He worked his way down Kenshin's jaw, to his neck, kissing, biting, licking. God, but he tasted good - - or maybe it was Sano's raging libido that made him seem so sweet.

"That's not the - - point - - I don't think." Kenshin gasped and shuddered when Sano pushed the lapel of his gi off his shoulder and nipped the indention between shoulder and collar bone.

"What is? Do you not want to?" Sano was a quarter focused on the question and three quarters focused on rubbing the growing itch in his pants against Kenshin's hip. Hard.

"Ummmm - - Its not that - - unhh!" Kenshin's forehead dropped to Sano's shoulder with a solid thump as Sano's mouth found and fastened onto one small, taut nipple. His fingers dug at Sano's shoulders.

The noises he made as Sano dropped to his knees, working his way down Kenshin's lean, supple tummy were not quite coherent.

But he regained composure when Sano started fumbling with the cloth at his waist and planted his hands firmly on Sano's shoulders, pushing him back so that there was a space separating their bodies. Sano looked up, hands on the wall on either side of Kenshin's hips. Kenshin's eyes were very serious. Very intent.

"Sano - - this is not the place."

The flesh between Sano's legs twitched in disappointment. He experienced a distinct lurch in his gut. A little anger, a little resentment - - maybe a touch of fear.

"Is there ever going to be a place?"

Kenshin didn't answer. Just gave Sano a placating look, a gentle pat on the shoulder, that mutated into a little more as his fingers lingered on the skin at Sano's neck

"I think I'll go outside and sit in the sun. My hands are stiff from yesterday, so I thought I'd work with the ben wa balls for a while."

"Sure. Whatever." Sano sat back on his heels, giving Kenshin room to maneuver around him. Had he misunderstood? Had he so miserably misinterpreted what Kenshin had been trying to get across in the midst of that apology. Perhaps he had, in the midst of the emotional turbulence. Or maybe he hadn't - - and it was just Kenshin having second thoughts. Kenshin thinking about wives and honor and responsibility - - all those things that Sano snubbed his nose without hesitation when the situation called. Well, at least wives - - he liked to think he had a healthy grasp of honor. Maybe not the same sense of it that Kenshin had, but he practiced his own version, and his wasn't pricked at all by the notion of tumbling a married Kenshin and he didn't particularly care what Kaoru might think of it, if she ever got wind. Impressing Kaoru had never been high on his list of priorities. But a man had to admit that it was high on Kenshin's - - which meant that Sano had to be a little circumspect, even if it went against his nature - - and that Sano had to be patient and wily if he wanted to maneuver Kenshin into the position he wanted before they found wife and child - - because he didn't hold illusions that whatever it was they'd been playing at would last long after that. He honestly didn't think even his conscious would allow it, no matter how much Kaoru annoyed him.

"Sano, are you upset?" Kenshin asked, the little carved wooden box that held the two ben wa balls in his hand.

"No. Are you?" Sano hadn't meant that to sound sullen. It had.

Kenshin cocked his head and smiled. Not his blatantly superficial cheerful one, but the softer, more serious one that Sano thought might just not be fake.

"I'm not upset."

Which was how the subject was left, with Kenshin not upset and Sano disgruntled and disquieted. Days passed, as well as endless ocean. The gulls began appearing again, in ones and twos at first, then in greater numbers as the ship rounded the Dutch East Indies. Sano got a chunk of stale bread and stood at the rail, tossing pieces into the air, watching the gulls swoop down and capture it mid-air amongst the raucous complaints of their fellows. He didn't know where Kenshin was at the moment, maybe back in the cabin by this time, or in a quiet nook somewhere working at the flexibility of his hands. Regardless, Kenshin was wonderfully good at acting like nothing had happened. Ever. He didn't treat Sano any different that he'd ever treated him. Sano couldn't decide if that were a good thing or not.

The taint of smoke in the air eventually alerted him that he wasn't alone at the rail. He glanced to the side and started just a little at the appearance of Saitou, a dozen feet down the rail, when Saitou hadn't been there before. The man was quieter than Kenshin and by far more venomous. Not the sort of man a body liked sneaking up on him. Saitou was casually staring in Sano's direction, elbows on the rail, cigarette between two long fingers.

"What are you looking at?" Sano flung another piece of bread into the air. It gained quite a height before a bird snatched it up.

Saitou took a long drag before answering. "You. Sulking. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was over Himura."

Sano blinked, shocked over that blatantly rude - - but one had to admit correct - - assumption. "Who the fuck asked - - You have no idea what you're talking about."

A man had to deny it. A man had to swell up a little in indignation and defend his - - well, his manliness. The remainder of the bread crumbled in his fist and he shook it out over the water, turning to face Saitou head on.

"You're so transparent, Sagara." Saitou didn't bother to shift. "You followed him around like a dog at its master's heels then, and you're doing the same now. Always trying to impress him, to prove something."

"Are you looking for a fight?"

"What? Need to prove something to me, as well, boy?"

"Don't call me 'boy', you bastard. And you can goddamned well keep your opinions to yourself."

Saitou shrugged and said something in a language that Sano didn't comprehend.

"Was that an insult?" Sano demanded, taking an angry step towards Saitou.

"No."

"Well - - well what was it? What did you call me?"

"I didn't call you anything. Just practicing my English. I said, as you wish."

"Oh. Well, okay."

Saitou shook his head, something akin to amusement twitching on his lips. It made Sano nervous when Saitou smiled.

"It wouldn't hurt you and Himura to learn a few simple phrases in the language, since we'll be dealing with the British when we reach Ceylon."

"Maybe. Ask Kenshin." Sano watched the gulls hitting the water, cleaning up the last of the crumbs.

"I'd think you'd be proficient at picking up languages - - being the world traveler that you are."

Sano narrowed his eyes. "Where'd you hear that? Kenshin tell you?"

Saitou took a drag and refrained from answering. Bastard.

"All right." He said belligerently, because to back down from that challenge would prove his ignorance, or worse still, his cowardice, and he wasn't willing to succumb to either in front of Saitou.

Chapter Nineteen

Twelve hours in Borneo. Just enough time to off load goods purchased in previous ports and trade them for new cargo here. It was a busy port. A Dutch port with a great spattering of blonde heads and pale skin mixed in with the darker skinned natives. But even the natives seemed foreign, this far away from home, the tilt of the eyes and the structure of the faces Indian in descent.

In a show of generosity, Saitou bought lunch at a dockside tavern and Sano was cheerful enough about the free food to forget his grudge. They had beer and spicy native fare that Kenshin couldn't quite develop a taste for. Sano had no problems with it and finished his portion and hinted around for seconds. Saitou ignored him. Saitou told them of his contact on the English held island of their destination and what to expect once they got there, from the English authority. Which would more than likely be a great deal of scorn for the charges against one of their own and an unwillingness to allow them the freedom to hunt Winter down on their own.

"I thought," Kenshin said carefully. "That your contacts were aware of this man's activities and were in favor of stopping them."

"To a degree, yes." Saitou had an unlit cigarette between his fingers. "But it is no more simple to arrest an English nobleman without proper proof, than it would be to arrest a Japanese one. More difficult, in fact, since the crimes in question were committed for the most part in Japan and the English have a swollen sense of superiority."

"You should get along just fine with them, then." Sano said, not able to help himself.

Saitou lifted a brow at him, but did not lower himself to retort.

"So what are you saying?" Kenshin asked.

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the edges of Saitou's thin lips. "Subtlety is in order. And perhaps a bit of subterfuge - - which means Sanosuke ought to stay ship bound - -"

"Fuck you, asshole."

"- - and you and I ought to be very polite to the English authority on the one hand and go about our own affairs on the other."

Kenshin was silent a moment, chin propped on his palm. Saitou was no ordinary policeman. Saitou carried the badge of law, but Kenshin knew very well that a great deal of his work went on within the shadows and was bloody and permanent in nature.

"So you will hunt him down if they will not and take care of the problem yourself?"

Saitou shrugged, expressionless "Would it offend your sense of morals, Himura?"

Kenshin frowned, uneasy and knowing very well that it showed. But it was not so simple a question and one he'd lain awake in turmoil over for many a night. He'd been willing to take Winter's life in the throes of panic and desperation, but could he do so in the calm light of reason? Could he break his vow after so long of keeping it intact? He supposed it would come down to the moment. He supposed it would depend on Kaoru and Kenji and the state of their well-being. If they were - - dead - - he supposed there was very little he wouldn't do to see Winter join them. And anyone else that had had a hand in it.

"Kenshin." Sano had his fingers around Kenshin's arm, just above his wrist, asserting enough pressure to get his attention. Kenshin blinked and stared at him.

"You okay?" Sano asked, concerned.

"What?"

"You sort of went away there for a moment."

Had he? Saitou was still staring, waiting for an answer. "No. As long as he leads me to Kaoru and Kenji first, there would be no offense taken."

Saitou smiled, but of course it didn't reach his eyes. The smile of a man who killed for justice and felt no remorse for it. But then, Saitou never had. Saitou's purpose had ever been clearer than Kenshin's own.

"C'mon." Sano pulled him up by the same hold on his arm, whether he wanted up or not. "We've got about ten hours to waste. Let's see what Borneo has to offer."

Kenshin followed Sano about yet another port town, and found the smells and the sounds much the same. It all blended together into one colorful conglomeration when the mind drifted elsewhere. Sano was hot to play a few of the local games of chance and Kenshin hadn't the focus to argue with him, more interested in estimating the value of his convictions when placed against the welfare of that which he loved. If they were dead - - and a reasonable man, in the reasonable light of day had to admit that possibility - - then it wouldn't matter anyway. What would life be worth with that integral part of his heart torn away? He might as well wreck vengeance in the most fatal way possible. Would Kaoru frown in disapproval over that morbid thought? Maybe not, if Kenji had been harmed. He thought she would take a life without hesitation if it was in protection of her son.

His introspection lasted the afternoon, until finally he came back to the happenings around him sitting out on the edge of a empty dock, away from the noise of the crowded port with the empty seaweed wrappings of some rice and beef concoction that Sano had bought from a vendor and come here to consume.

Sano was musing about the allure of the Indian mainland and how much he liked the look of Indian women and how the food wasn't so bad that he couldn't get used to it.

"Why?" Kenshin asked, feeling rather like he'd missed a great deal of Sano's conversation - - which he had in all truth, for most of the morning.

Sano shrugged. "Wouldn't be a bad trip, you know. Ceylon, where we're headed, is right there. Wouldn't be much to get a boat ride to the tip of India and from there I could bum around - - whatever - - and eventually work my way back east. I've heard Calcutta is the place if you like a town with a little punch to her."

"You're thinking about traveling through India?" The concept was starting to sink in and with it a growing sense of hollowness in the pit of his stomach. It was hard, thinking about losing Sano on the heels of thoughts of losing Kaoru and Kenji.

"Well - - yeah. I don't think going back to Tokyo with you and the family anytime soon is really the best thing to do - - unless you wanted to rent me Yahiko's old room and we shacked up together. You think Kaoru would mind much if we screwed around once in a while or would she - -"

"Sano! That's not funny." Kenshin frowned at him and Sano smiled and shrugged.

"Yeah, I thought as much. So I was thinking about other alternatives." The smile didn't really reach Sano's eyes. It was a little sad, a little wistful. Sano hadn't looked so regretful the last time he'd left Japan's shores for wider horizons.

"Sano?"

"Humm?"

"I was - - distraught - - for a very long time, when you left the first time. I knew why you thought you had to - - but I still grieved. The worst part, I think, was not knowing whether you would ever come back - - if you were dead on some other shore and I'd never know. I don't like that sort of ignorance."

"So what do you want, Kenshin? What solution do you have to this problem? IS there one? I've been thinking and thinking and I can't come up with shit. I know what you want. You want all of us in one place where you can keep an eye on us - - just like things used to be."

"That wouldn't be that bad." Kenshin said softly.

Sano leaned over, face very close to his, breath tickling his skin. "You think? You think she wouldn't figure it out eventually? She's not the brightest rock in the pile when it comes to certain things, but she's not stupid and we're not saints, neither one of us - - despite how hard you try - - she'd figure it out. Or at least enough of it to make your life miserable."

Kenshin sat there, arm curled around one updrawn knee, thinking that Sano had a point there. Thinking that no matter how hard he tried he caught himself looking at Sano sometimes in a way that a man ought not be looking at another man, with thoughts running through his head that most definitely ought not be there - - but he'd crossed that bridge already and no use wishing it hadn't happened because wishes were useless things that only muddied the waters instead of helping them run clear and honestly - - honestly he didn't regret Sano. He couldn't regret Sano, because his heart lay as firmly in that direction as it did with Kaoru and Kenji. If he could keep Sano with him - - with them - - he would - - a man could have urges, after all and not act on them. A man could school his face not to betray licentious thoughts lurking behind his eyes. Whether Sano could was another matter, Sano at the heart of things being more honest than Kenshin and by far more direct in what he wanted and what he didn't. And more than likely not apt to hide certain jealousies. When Kenshin gave it some thought, it seemed that even years ago, when they all had been together under less complicated circumstances Sano and Kaoru had been at odds and well - - it just hadn't occurred to him that it might have been over him.

"Sano, will you not make that decision just yet?"

Sano shrugged, gazing out over the water as if he already imagined himself on distant shores. He didn't look particularly happy over it. He looked lonely already. But he'd deny that, of course, if one pointed it out.

Kenshin slid his fingers around the back of Sano's neck, pulling him close enough to touch foreheads. "Just think on it."

"I am thinking on it."

Kenshin kissed him. Lightly on the side of the mouth and again, grazing Sano's closed lips.

"Bribery?" Sano asked and a man could have taken offense, if a man didn't know how confused and hurt Sano probably was. A man had to, feeling much the same himself.

"No." It was likely the last chance before Ceylon when there would be no time for anything but outmaneuvering the British and racing to find Kaoru and Kenji.

Sano's arm snaked around his back, fingers twining in his hair and pulling his head back. Sano peered down at him warily. "You sure?"

Kenshin blinked, not certain if he meant the accusation of bribery or the attempted kiss. A hint of a smile touched his lips.

"I said so, didn't I?" it was the answer Sano would have given.

Sano nodded of a sudden and released him, climbing to his feet and offering his hand to Kenshin, who stared up at him uncertainly.

"Well, c'mon then. We've only got a few hours till the boat sails."

Kenshin was willing and the willingness didn't seem forced or calculated, so Sano damned sure intended to take advantage while the mood lingered. He had a handful of coins and a few pieces of local paper that he'd won in the games of chance he'd drifted through this morning. He let the inn keep of the first cheap lodging he passed name his price for a room for the afternoon. He didn't frankly give a shit what the man must have thought he needed the room for, what with Kenshin in tow and no baggage between them.

Sano was better prepared this time. He wasn't drunk and Kenshin wasn't, and being coherent he had every intention of doing this right and proper, instead of rutting like animals in heat. Of course, good intentions went awry when he got his hands on Kenshin's skin and Kenshin's hands found him and circled him, tentatively almost and curiously, as if he didn't quite recall the first time they'd done this. He probably didn't. Sano didn't remember much of it, save the recollection of sensation and satisfaction.

He sprang to life, hot and hard and desperate under Kenshin's fingers and his body demanded closer contact, overriding all the plans of his head. He lunged forward, grasping the back of Kenshin's neck and kissing him open mouthed, bearing him backwards onto the lumpy, prickly feather stuffed mattress.

"Sano - - Sano - - calm." Kenshin breathed against his ear, stroking his back and his sides, trying to shift so that Sano's weight didn't press down uncomfortably.

Sano couldn't comprehend calm at the moment, too overcome by his body's need and honestly not so old a hand at the game as some of his bragging suggested, to control the urges. Whores for the most part, didn't care how talented a man was or how long he lasted, as long as they had coin in their pockets.

Kenshin was better at it. Kenshin's fingers wound through his hair and Kenshin's lips and tongue traveled over the skin he could reach. Kenshin urged him to roll off and he did, reluctantly, then shivered when Kenshin slid close to his body and pressed his lips to the hollow of Sano's throat.

Okay. That was nice. Kenshin moved down his chest and Sano bit his lips, ashamed that all he'd wanted to do was rut without finesse, his sex so hard between his legs that it hurt - - it damned well ached with need - - while Kenshin had the presence of mind to do what Sano had intended all along, which was to make it something more than simple fucking.

"Sorry - - sorry - - " he gasped out an apology, to which Kenshin didn't respond, Kenshin's hands running down his ribs and the muscles of his stomach and lower - - god lower - - then back up again, as if Kenshin were working out the terrain of his body by feel alone.

God knew, he knew the feel of Kenshin's, as much from imagination as from those few precious gropes he'd been able to steal. Small boned and lithe, tight, hard muscle, soft skin, soft hair, soft lips, hard length of flesh between his legs. Sano caught that between the fingers of one hand and heard a satisfying gasp. A little foreplay was fine - - yes, fine indeed, but if Kenshin tried to draw it out too long, Sano just might die from the stress.

He grasped Kenshin's rear with his free hand and pulled him back up where he could get to his mouth and murmured his concern. "Are you trying to kill me, Kenshin . . .?"

"Are you that delicate?" Kenshin smiled at him, but his eyes were a little dilated and his skin had a fine sheen of sweat and his lashes fluttered a little at what Sano was doing with his hands, his own hands going a little lax when Sano pulled him close, groin to groin, and lifted his leg up over Sano's hip. His nails bit into Sano's flesh when Sano let his fingers drift behind Kenshin's sex.

"Okay." Kenshin gasped, after the tremor had passed. "Okay . . ."

Sano, being at heart, an optimist, had acquired from a dockside shop in the last port they'd visited, an ointment for just such occasions. He'd almost forgotten it, but Kenshin's attempt at prolonging the moment had helped Sano reassert a little coherency back into his thoughts. He groped after his jacket and the fumbled in the pocket, tossing out various collected junk until he found the small, ceramic jar.

"Better than lamp oil." Sano made an attempt at a grin, but couldn't quite manage it, the situation by far to serious for levity.

Kenshin blinked at him, having had a moment to catch his breath and his wits while Sano searched his pockets. "Less glass on the floor, as well."

Sano gave him a look, wondering if he were being chided for that clumsiness. He only vaguely recalled knocking the damn lamp over in his efforts that night.

"I was drunk." He defended himself.

Kenshin lifted a brow and urged him back down. It was a matter then of finding the best way about it when one wasn't driven by blind, desperate instinct or drunken haphazardness. Not so easy as with a woman. Not so comfortable or naturally welcoming, but Sano had never in his life balked at challenge and he doubted Kenshin ever had. So they managed, and more than managed, with Kenshin's rear pressed up tight against Sano's loins and Kenshin's pale back slanting down towards the mattress, forehead pressed into the cloth, fingers clutching at the sheets. There was the new scar from the bullet wound on his shoulder, crisscrossed by strands of hair, and fainter, much older scars here and there along his back. Sano bent over, pulling Kenshin closer, hands encasing Kenshin's sex, while he pressed his face into the loose hair at Kenshin's neck and listened to the sound of Kenshin's labored breath mingling with the sounds issuing from his own throat.

And afterwards lay recovering both their breaths on sweat dampened sheets, staring at a ceiling rife with cobwebs and warped timbers. Sano was at a loss for words. He never had been much for talk after his bouts of sex in the past. Hard to know what to say to a woman after the fact. He usually ended up making a fool of himself - - though not - - adamantly not, he assured himself - - during the act itself.

"Sooooo - - how long between here and Ceylon?" One had to make an effort at nonchalance. It was imperative to pretend the world had not just shaken on its axis under him. There was silence for an answer and Sano grimaced and thought himself an idiot and chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye in Kenshin's direction.

Kenshin was thinking, Sano could see that clearly enough. Kenshin had his eyes mostly shut, staring up at the same ceiling that Sano had, but more than likely not seeing it. A body cringed to imagine what thoughts were running through his head. A body began to feel a little self-conscious and question the quality of its performance.

"C'mon, it wasn't that bad." He tried to get the sound of humor into it, but it came out sounding whiny. Foolfoolfool!

"What?" Kenshin looked his way, a little cognizance seeping into his eyes, a little attention spared for Sano from whatever musings had him in their grip.

"Nothing." Sano grumbled. It wasn't as if he'd expected to be gushed over afterwards for his prowess. It wasn't as if he'd wanted Kenshin all close and cuddly like a woman, for god's sake.

"Ummm." And Kenshin did roll closer and rest his cheek against Sano's shoulder. Some consolation there, but he didn't speak and he didn't let any clues slip as to what he was thinking, which irked Sano to no ends, when he needed just a little bit - - a tiny little scrap of confirmation. Instead he got silence and a comfortable presence at his side and himself starting to make wild guesses at what was going on inside Kenshin's head. He was probably thinking about Kaoru and badly stretched loyalties and promises and bemoaning his own lack of conviction. That was Kenshin all over. Never good enough for his own sense of righteousness. Always shouldering the blame and taking the bulk of the punishment. It pissed Sano off. It had always pissed Sano off.

"What?" he finally snapped, loud enough and irritated enough that it broke through Kenshin's musing.

Kenshin tilted his head and blinked up at him questioningly. "What, what?"

"What the hell are you thinking about?"

"I don't think." Kenshin said slowly, in all seriousness. "That India is a good idea right this moment. There's a great deal of unrest with the English and all. It's not a safe time to tour, I really don't think it is."

Sano blinked back, irritation knocked out of him. Kenshin hadn't been worrying about Kaoru at all, but about him. He didn't know whether to be gratified or offended that Kenshin didn't think he was capable of taking care for himself.

He rolled over of a sudden, looming over Kenshin with his elbows planted in the mattress to either side of Kenshin's head. "So you're saying, you don't think I can handle a little violence between the clumsy English and the Indians?"

"The English have guns. A great many guns." Kenshin countered, "And you're not always very wise about who you anger and who - - -" Kenshin paused, drawing breath, pulling a corner of his bottom lip between his teeth when Sano pressed down with his lower body. " - - and who you don't."

"Sooooo, I'm not wise?"

"Of course you are. Occasionally. Once in a while. You have rare moments of brilliance."

"Asshole." Sano felt better. "How long before the ship sails?"

Kenshin settled a little more comfortably beneath him, opening his legs so that Sano lay between his thighs, snaking his hands up along Sano's ribs to his shoulders. "A little. No reason to leave just yet . . ."

Sano was smug and not so subtly satisfied with the afternoon's endeavors. He was most thoroughly satisfied with himself, despite a few moments uncertainty, quickly quashed under the ego of a young man who had always been painfully confident of his own abilities. That was okay. It made Sano happy and Sano being happy, made Kenshin happy - - and Sano was not so near-sighted in his exuberance that he let slip the reasons once they were back amongst the familiar faces of the sailors they'd spent a good deal of the last month in the company of. Though one doubted that the mood would escape Saitou, who had a preternatural perception when it came to reading people. One could only wait and see how much heed he paid Sano and hope - - very dearly hope - - that as usual Saitou found better things to occupy his attention.

One might also have hoped, not more than a few days past that such a coupling as he and Sano had had, might have cured the both of them - - of similar notions on board the ship where discovery was not only likely, but inevitable in such closed quarters. Kenshin's intentions were so very good. So very reasonable when he'd walked back onto this ship, but a day out, when Sano sidled up to him in a narrow deserted passage, caution died on his breath, sucked out by Sano's closeness and Sano's scent and Sano's body under his hands. They broke apart, gasping a little as a door opened down the way and one of the foreign passengers walked out, heading for the deck, never bothering to cast a look towards the darkened end of the passage. It made Kenshin's heart thump a little faster though, the near call, and he gave Sano a stern look and straightened his gi, before padding down the hall towards the deck himself.

Sano trailed him, grinning lazily, hands in his pockets, hair a little more disheveled than usual from Kenshin's fingers in it.

"You know," he said, leaning on the rail next to Kenshin and staring out over the relatively calm waters. "They picked up a load of cotton from Borneo. It's down in the back of the hold. Nobody likely to walk up on a body down there. Nice and quiet and softer than all the barrels of rice wine that was there before."

"How do you know that?" Kenshin pulled a strand of hair pulled loose from the tail at his neck, from his mouth.

"I get around. Saitou's not the only one with contacts, you know."

"Unh." Kenshin lifted a brow and leaned down on his elbows, watching the sliver of silver fish that raced alongside the boat. "So - - do you speak any English?"

"Any English?" Kenshin canted a sideways look up at Sano's sun-backed silhouette.

"Yeah. Like, are you gonna be able to understand anything when we get to Ceylon? Most of them know English - - at least where we're going."

"Who told you that?"

Sano shrugged, looking disgruntled. "Saitou."

"You had a civil conversation with Saitou?"

"I am capable, you know. Of dealing with assholes and not going off."

Kenshin looked back down at the fish to hide a smile. "You've depths and depths, Sano. You hardly ever surprise me anymore."

"Humph." Sano frowned, not sure how to take that. "I've picked up a few words from him. He offer to teach you any?"

Kenshin frowned himself, thoughtfully. Saitou hadn't. Strange that he'd offered Sano. Perhaps he thought Kenshin might have turned him down - - or perhaps he'd just as well Kenshin not speak the language. It would make him dependent upon Saitou to a certain degree and give Saitou that much more control of the situation and of him. He vaguely recalled some of the lessons that Winter had held with Kaoru and Kenji - - but only the few words that Kenji had proudly repeated to him stuck in his memory.

"C'mon." Sano broke Kenshin's brooding silence. "Let's go out in the sun and work on your grip."

The weather was good. The wind was on their side the whole way from Borneo. The captain proclaimed that they would make port at Ceylon ahead of schedule. Sano's nerves began to string tight. Kenshin's began to settle, that dread calm seeping into his expression that foretold that there would be very little in the way of levity or relief the last day at sea. Not that Sano expected it - - though he would not be adverse to the latter if Kenshin chose to grant it. The bales of cotton in the hold had proved a private enough retreat.

When the shoreline of Ceylon came into view on the gray horizon of the ocean, he and Kenshin and Saitou, along with a few other passengers stood at the rail along the prow and watched its advance. Soon enough they'd be on its shores and the hunt for Kenshin's lost family and the scoundrel that had taken them could begin in real.