As a few reviewers suggested, I did read the manga. I actually hadn't read the latest chapters (shame on me), so I was quite shocked by the latest developments. I don't want to give away any spoilers, but I only hope that Hikaru will be okay...

Anyways, I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda off. I do admit that I rushed through it, because I have a tournament to go to in forty minutes.

But, thanks for reading!

Haruhi left the office building. Suddenly, there was new hope in her case, and she certainly wasn't going to waste Ohtori Group's efforts.

The same burly bodyguard from before followed after her. It was almost ten now, and a black limousine waited for her on the driveway.

The man opened the back door for her, and she got in. He rapped his knuckles on the passenger's window until it opened, and he barked out her address to the two men idly sitting inside.

They nodded in the affirmative, closed the window, and then they left.

As Haruhi sat in the back seat, she tried to relax, but no matter what, her thoughts always returned to the meeting.

Has he ever contacted you before?

Well…yes. I suppose.

By that uncertain answer, I will assume that he found your number without your knowledge.

…Yes.

The head of the Ohtori Group was not a physically imposing man, yet there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at her, the way he walked, that struck fear and obedience into Haruhi.

The only other person who could make her feel this way was his son – third son, apparently – the runaway delinquent.

She could only conclude that it ran in the family.

How many times has he contacted you?

Twice.

Should he ever, Fujioka-san, contact you again, you are to not pick up. He could be tracking you.

But how would I know if he's calling or not?

She remembered that the man had then looked at her in such a way as to say there was a difference between regular people calling and people with the name Ohtori calling.

And tracking? Why would Ohtori want to stalk her? Of all people?

She was given permission to have any access to certain files – all under supervision, of course – that could help her case against him.

He was not using his family's money right now (and nor would he), so it was decided that he had either stole or received it from a third party.

Haruhi noticed that almost no talk had been made of the Suoh boy. It was all about Ohtori.

Kyouya and Tamaki were deduced to be in Tokyo she was told.

Something about them being seen by one businessman or another, who then reported it to the Head, Ohtori Yoshio.

From the looks of it, when the third son was caught, boy, was he in for it.

Disownment seemed like a gift from heaven. From her conversation with Ohtori Yoshio, Haruhi had already realized that he was a) a very hard man who b) expected a lot of his children, and c) hated failure. Even trying your best was not an option.

Haruhi learned that as a result of these two runaways, the stocks had decreased from both the Ohtori and Suoh Groups, but especially from Ohtori.

The Suohs were already in a considerable financial hardship – in rich people's terms, Haruhi thought with a sigh – and that was a possible reason why the Suoh boy – Tamaki, he was called – had it relatively easier.

Ohtoris, on the other hand, had no space for failure, so Kyouya's actions were heavily looked upon. He was really in for it. Haruhi wondered if the sneaky runaway had a few more cards up his sleeve. For the sake of her remaining sanity, she hoped not.

"Ma'am?" the driver said, interrupting her thoughts. "Is this your apartment?"

"Ah, yes," she said, feeling more comforted at the sight of her abode. "This is it. Thank you for the trouble."

"It's no problem compared to what you're doing," the driver muttered. "From what we've heard."

Haruhi narrowed her eyes. "And what have you heard?"

The driver immediately noticed the change in Haruhi; perhaps it was from working for the Ohtori Family for a few too many years to count. "Not much," he said. "Not much."

And so a year passed. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days…

Haruhi had never felt so worn out, so stressed by life.

Her studies fell, and she went from number one to number two. And she wasn't even done yet.

Still an undergraduate student, Haruhi had yet to go through the three-year law school recently created by the Japanese government.

And the bar exam.

Haruhi, exhausted by this day's lecture, fell onto her bed in a heap.

Suddenly, she didn't care about those two runaways.

Her meeting with the Ohtori patriarch was three months ago, and since then, Kyouya and Tamaki had disappeared from Tokyo. Once again.

She wondered how long they would last. Because, she reasoned, surely they could not last forever, right? And where did they get all their money?

It was question that she had been unable to answer.

Haruhi fell asleep without changing her clothes or starting her homework.

France was always a sensitive topic for Tamaki. France was his birthplace. France was where he had spent the first fourteen years of his life.

And had not visited for many years.

And so, seeing France now – though from a plane – brought back both nostalgic and painful memories.

France was where he had last seen his mother.

France was where she still was, though her location was unknown to him.

France was where he and Kyouya were headed to now. To regroup, rest, and make a little money.

It was called printing.

Kyouya had laid out a plan. Japan was too risky for them now, he said, with both with that girl and his father beginning to get on their case.

It would not surprise him, he said, if his father had already contacted Fujioka Haruhi to recruit, or blackmail, her into capturing him.

They were headed to the capital of France – the city of lights – Paris.

But Paris was not their final destination. From Paris, they were going to head south, down towards Lyon, where they would set up shop and printing press.

Kyouya had it all planned out.

By now, he had learned the finer points of making checks, so he knew what to do and what to avoid. They would be printing money to use, and that was their payroll. They would have money for food, clothes, and other necessities.

The rest would go to Tamaki. And from watching the news, Kyouya knew that his family wasn't getting any better.

Tamaki, meanwhile, was going to choose their source of residence. However, there were a few restictions:

Nothing too expensive – by their standards.

Nothing too extravagant or obvious. Discreet being the key word. (Kyouya said it again just for good measure.)

And somewhere close to the airport.

Tamaki quickly replied by saying that he could think of ten places off the top of his head that fit the description.

He told Kyouya of a small neighborhood that he knew of, quiet and quaint, built in the eighteenth century. But it had been newly renovated for the twenty-first century, and it was mix of tradition and cutting-edge.

Kyouya only nodded. Tamaki continued to talk.

Though one hour from landing, he was already beginning to polish his French, striking up a conversation with a middle-aged woman across the row.

Kyouya was not as proficient in French as Tamaki, but he did understand the majority of their conversation.

"So right now, the weather in Paris is wonderful. The best in the world," said the woman.

"Yes, indeed, I haven't been back to France for a long time, but Paris is, and will always be, beautiful," Tamaki replied.

"That's true," said the woman. "Why, I'm visiting my friend again down in the south. I haven't seen her for a long time."

"Really? My friend and I are also going to the south."

"How wonderful. I have always loved it there. Lyon, especially, has a great natural beauty to it. Where are you going in the south?"

At this point, Kyouya nudged Tamaki.

Tamaki understood immediately. To the woman, he said, "We haven't decided yet. Well, it was very pleasant to talk to you. The flight should be landing soon."

"It was wonderful to talk to you, too. My, these days, it seems as if young people do not appreciate to speak with their elders."

"Is your friend picking you up?"

"Oh, no. Anne-Sophie has always been frail. Her driver should be meeting me at the airport."

"I see. I hope you have a nice time on your trip," Tamaki said.

"Thank you. I hope the same for you, too," the woman said. She turned back to her seat.

Tamaki did the same, but instead of starting a new conversation with another passenger, he remained silent for the rest of the flight. He said nothing to Kyouya even after they had gotten off.

They were silent throughout customs and baggage claims.

Kyouya, who had heard the last part of Tamaki's conversation, understood.

Anne-Sophie was the name of Tamaki's mother.

"Father," Akari said. "How are you?"

"Akari, it's late. Shouldn't you be sleeping?" her father said.

"But I wanted to talk to you…"

"You'll see me tomorrow. Go to sleep. The maid is going to tuck you in."

"Okay."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Well, okay. It was good to hear your voice, I guess."

She thought she could hear her father's smirk over the phone. "Go to sleep."

"I will."

She hung up. Shiro-chan took the phone and placed it back in the hallway. "So, you got what you want, Akari-chan. Now, do what your father said and go to sleep."

"How do you know what he said?"

The maid placed her hands on her hips. "No more questions. Now – go to sleep."

Despite whatever he said, Kyouya genuinely respected his friend. He would never admit it, of course, but right now, he patiently waited for his friend.

Tamaki returned from the restroom with a better color to his face, and it was a cheery smile that he said, "Okay, let's go."

But Kyouya sighed. Tamaki was faking it. "No, I think we should go rest for a moment. Airplanes are always uncomfortable anyway. How about we go to a café?"

"Sure, if you want to," Tamaki said, still smiling. "From here, I think there's a good brassiere that's quite famous."

"Is it close?"

"Yes, a ten-minute walk, perhaps."

Kyouya agreed, and they went back inside the airport to store their luggage in the lockers. They didn't carry much on them, and they set off for some food, in the hopes that filling their stomachs would take their mind off other matters.

Perhaps, Kyouya thought, the smell of baking could restore Tamaki's spirits. They sat down at a small table in the front, where they could look out and see the bustling streets.

From Kyouya's prodding – a rare occurrence – Tamaki also ordered a coffee.

They ate nothing because the mere smell of freshly baked bakery goods filled them up. The oven was working hard in the back of the brassiere, with a worker expertly placed the trays full of various types of bread in and out.

Baguettes, rolls, and croissants filled the air.

The flour seemed to be dissapating through the room, which now held a light fragrance of baking ingredients and flowers.

Kyouya, who normally held a disdain for such, found himself savoring the coffee. It was much better than the instant coffee Tamaki had once forced him to consume only a few months ago.

Tamaki looked around the streets, as if he was trying to find a familiar face. He took periodic sips from his cup, his face holding a wistful look.

The French girls were already noticing this young blonde man, but for the first time in his life, Tamaki did not see it.

"Anne-Sophie is a common name," Kyouya finally said. "There's no guarantee."

"With a frail body?" Tamaki asked. His eyes, normally full of energy, looked deeply saddened. "What are the chances of that combination?"

"Tamaki, you know you can't just follow a lead like that. It's hasty and unverified. Even if it happens to be near where we're going."

"Would…it hurt to try?" Tamaki asked. Then he lowered his head in shame. He felt a wave of red creep onto his face. "Actually, forget about it, Kyouya. I'm just being selfish. I've already been so selfish…"

"Tamaki..."

He resumed his sad, melancholic ways, sipping his coffee then sighing then sipping some more.

Kyouya leaned back on his chair (rather tacky, but livable), and could only look at his friend. Tamaki had suffered so much over the past year. He could only hope that they would be able to escape from this unscathed.

This story has so many weird twists, I'm kind of getting overwhelmed by it all. But don't worry, I have the next few chapters planned out, so all I have to do is...write. Hrm.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.