[A/N] Maddie Hat: I've got to say I'm pretty damn well pleased by be back in business. Or back in action or whatever. I'm also pretty damn well pleased that we wrote so much. Rika, we are a pair of damn fine authors. In any case, we're very sorry for all these delays and waiting. To make it up to you we spent about three solid days slaving on this. It took some work, and quite a bit to get the three days to do this on, and then go and . .. .well . . . .do it. But we did! And it's quite wonderful, too! So, yes, we're back! **cheers** Whoot!

RaddxRika: You be a damn fine author. I'm just damn fine. ANYways, KuroFai. Meh. Fai is no longer a mopey emo kid. But we have a had a hell of a time deciding- go sexy or fluffy? SO! Our deciosion is, let the fangirls decide. This is fluffy. Note that this will not be all love and joy either, but…. The sexy one could get quite dark. Fangirls…. Tell us. What do we do? Write just this one? Or both? Hmm. Without futher ado, Kurofai.

[Fai] Energy sapped, I sat down hard; shaking with the effort it took to breathe. I slumped against the bed, unable to support my body as I tried to fill my lungs with shuddering breaths.

Finally able to breathe, I ground a fist into my eyes, wiping away the tears that lingered there. My eyes were swollen and I had to force my jaw to stop trembling. I hated being this way. Weak. Pathetic. I took a deep breath, stopping the tiny tremors in my fingers, then used the chair to pull myself up to my feet. My whole body was stiff and my legs cramped. They would have given out and dropped me on the floor if I hadn't braced my arms on the chair and used them to support all my weight. I grimaced, waiting for the painful spasming to stop, then finally stood on my own.

I took another deep breath, checked the hallway- empty- and headed for the kids' room. It was easy to slip in and pick up the sleeping Mokona from where he lie, sleeping in the middle of the floor and rolling about in typical Mokona style. Then Syaoran-kun shifted, muttering as if he was awake and I froze. There wasn't a way to explain this, and after earlier, I simply wouldn't be forgiven. He stilled and I hurried out of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the princess, curled tightly into herself and looking painfully forlorn even in sleep. My fault.

Back in the room I set Mokona down and whistled the notes to command his magic on dry lips that didn't want to obey. The faint outline of the circle appeared, white and flickering. It crackled for a moment, then cleared to show a sakura in full bloom. Then it tilted wildly, bringing the witch into view.

She blinked and paused a moment.

"So you called back" She drawled, setting down a sake cup. She was perched sideways on something so she was looking at me sidelong, her bangs falling across her face while the rest of her hair was piled up in a sloppy knotted bun which seemed to be fastened by a long lacquered rod.

"Ah! Yuuko-san- hey isn't-" Shouted a boy a little behind her, flailing so it looked like he had more joints that any human had a right to, even as she interrupted him.

"Wata~nuki~kun! Bring me sa~ke!" She sang lightly, not turning even a hair in his direction, though she shot him a lopsided grin- she put on smiles better than I did.

"B-b-but!" He sputtered ,shooting me a look, then stumbling and flailing his arms (and his whole body at that) wildly as he came to a stop right behind her. "Yuuko-san" He whined, glancing again at me. I stared blankly ahead, a smile plastered on although I knew I looked awful. Crying always made me ugly, and I could see that he knew in his face. I smiled. He shouted at Yuuko, clearly infuriated."It's back at the shop! Why didn't you tell me before we left, dammit! And, besides-"

"Shut up" Someone said bluntly, their low voice toneless and bored. It was another boy, perched on a boulder a little ways farther back with a sake cup in his hand to match Yuuko's. He had dark hair; dark eyes and a very cool unflappable look about him. He had some kind of power, I could see, as did the other boy, just by looking at them. None too pleased, the first boy, Watanuki, gaped for a second then began to shout at him, waving his fists angrily. The boy plugged his ears, looking a bit irritated if resigned to the fact that this was expected, but didn't otherwise react. Obviously, the two were close and this was a common occurrence. Among the shouts I could hear Watanuki's indignant "Are you even listening?". They were. . . . .strange. I decided. Strange.

"Go on then," Yuuko told him, flapping her hands dismissively at him with a self-satisfied grin.

"B-but . . ."He glanced from me to Yuuko again worry on his face, and I made sure not to pay attention to him or meet those kind blue eyes. I was sure it would be bad. Yuuko turned around to face him, her posture and movements lazy though I could feel the steely intent about her.

"Kimihiro" She told him coolly, "Bring me. The sake." She said quietly, her voice toneless. The boy blinked, stumbled a few awkward steps backwards, turned in a tangle of limbs and half-fell, half-sprinted at a clumsy run down a paved path in the background.

"He's going to hurt himself like that," The boy commented, his low voice dull in the background. His eyes were level, staring directly after Watanuki, then shifting to pin Yuuko. He glanced at me for a split second, his eyes blank- or perhaps, far too knowing- and then went back to staring into the space behind Watanuki. He never moved, keeping his hands clasped loosely behind his knees the whole time. It was almost resignation, as before, but without the sense of defeat that resignment brought. Clearly, he was used to this sort of thing, and the other boys antics in general. I couldn't help feeling a little bad for him- Watanuki seemed to be a bit wild- if not much- Watanuki was too kind for me to really feel bad for him. Yuuko sighed.

"Why don't you follow him Doumeki-kun? Make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Yuuko suggested, her eyes blank, expression dryly amused.

"Yeah" He replied in that one, low and toneless gravelly syllable. Then he rose, following the still-flailing figure away from Yuuko. The Witch turned to me, dropping all pretense. "You decided?"

"I'll do it. I'll pay whatever, I don't even care. Just…" I thought of Kurogane, pale and already gaunt. "Just help him."

Yuuko nodded, understanding. "I have a bandage. Wind it around his wound and it will draw the poison. Don't take it off until the wound heals completely, or else it won't work again, and he'll have to fight the poison himself."

I nodded, noting the instructions carefully. I would relay them to Sakura and Syaoran later. "The price?"

"I'll send you a crystal with the bandages. Hold it against your forehead until it grows warm; then send it back. The price will be paid in full."

I nodded. I didn't care what was being taken. Magic, time, sight. I'd pay. And I'd know what I paid later. She sent the bandages and a small, cerulean jewel through Mokona to my side, and I did as told. The crystal felt cool in my palm. I stared down into its swirled blue depths- what would it take from me?

I was beginning to realize that it no longer mattered- I just wanted Kuro to be healthy again. Healthy enough to complain about me, or threaten me, or grumble at Syaoran because he couldn't manage to really be mean to him, or even mutter gruffly at Sakura. Just healthy. Then the rest could be worried about. Things like feathers, and the next world, and the people following us and all those worries that seemed to move far, far away when the sword hit him. We could worry about it later. We would have to, eventually. I took the bandage, gathered some resolve, and I decided to set to work- the sooner the better. Because soon couldn't be soon enough.

I pressed the stone to my head quickly and gracelessly. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes closed. It didn't take long for the crystal to become warm, and I pulled it away from my forehead fast, like it had burned me. In one motion, I opened Mokona's mouth and popped the stone in. Yuuko held it up, showing it to me from her side. "I have it," She said. Then, she smiled softly. "Go." The command was a kind one, and I bowed to her and rushed out the door, just catching a glimpse of the circle blinking out as she cut the connection.

I didn't think. I made Kurogane's shirt fly off of him. I neither knew nor cared where it ended up, just that it got off of his too-thin, unhealthy body now. My fingers were racing over his skin, flying across the smooth planes of dark muscles, hollowed out by sickness. And as I smoothed away the old bandages, heedless of the blood- of his blood- on my hands, my palms were grazing him, brushing his skin and not pulling away from the hot, hot burning of his skin on mine. Even though his skin wasn't warm. Then how? But why. . .? My mind tried to rationalize. Doesn't matter. My heart's slamming was uneven and my breathing wasn't as easy as I was used to. Why? My thoughts demanded crazily. Does it matter? And they shut up.

And then suddenly my hands were empty and the bandages were gone, leaving just Kurogane and the ugly wound, marking him. It didn't take away from his powerful dark looks. It added something. Danger. My thoughts informed me. I shut them up and shoved them down a well. They deserved it if they broke something along the way. They snickered as my eyes lingered on the lean lines of Kurogane's abs and chest, raking over the still-finely-carved contours. I felt something building up in me and I couldn't name it or identify it, but I couldn't sit still, couldn't bear to.

I snatched the roll of Yuuko's bandages unseeingly from wherever-the-hell it was I'd put them. My fingers were already thoughtlessly, hurriedly scrabbling to undo the end. I started at his right hip, a sharp curving bone that jutted slightly out beneath tan skin pulled too tight. Something in my guts fluttered and I hoped it wouldn't make me sick with the power of all that heat. I started wrapping, my hands once more grazing him, making fire sear up my arms as my fingers and sometimes palms brushed or pressed against a six pack built onto a narrow build or his powerful pectorals. There was nothing else; nothing anywhere in the universe but him under my hands. I knew this was not how I should have been doing this. I knew I was careful, attentive to the tiniest thread out of place, but I should have been more delicate. It was a serious injury. And yet my hands were not light on him. I refused to question that, merely continuing to bandage.

And then I was tucking the end of the bandage neatly into the overlapping bandaging just where his shoulder met his side, making it disappear seamlessly into the neat-to-the-point-of-near-perfection wrappings, hovering over my work. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I took my hands away from my finished job and let it go, head light with the lack of air. And then, quite suddenly, I realized what I had been doing. Letting my hands wander all over Kurogane. He was poisoned. Poisoned and unconscious; possibly nearing death and I was . . .

My face twisted into something else; a dark mask of sneering hatred. I was sick. Just a sick, disturbed excuse for a friend. Kurogane deserved better. I was disgusted with my own lack of morals. I looked at him and I wanted to look at him longer. I yanked the blanket up over him, feeling a vicious kind of dark satisfaction at the sharp pang I felt when I could no longer see him. Good. I deserve it. I deserve the punishment. I looked at him, and in my mind I saw his body. I got up out of the chair. I made it to the bathroom before I retched again and again. My stomach brought up something like water that burned my throat, and then more and more of it. The taste of it in my mouth made me feel even sicker than I had, and my head was light and my stomach had begun to ache while my throat was as raw as if it's lining had been destroyed. I gagged again. And then another time.

And then, there was nothing left. I remembered the way my gaze had felt on Kurogane and I felt so sick that I retched again, bringing up some remnant I didn't know I had in me. My stomach tried painfully to empty itself, and this time truly had nothing to offer the bucket that was nearest me when it rebelled, so I heaved. Overand over and agonizingly over I collapsed on the floor, and curled slightly where I lay, my stomach contracting as it tried to empty itself of my sin. Failing this, eventually, it just stopped, leaving me laying beside the old iron bucket, my cheek pressed on the cold floor. I could smell the former contents of my stomach, and I felt nauseous again for a moment- I was sick and disgusted. I ignored the dull exhaustion in my muscles and bones and forced myself to drag my body off the floor. I stood. Somehow I didn't fall. So I walked.

I washed my face with water so cold it hurt. I lurched, slightly uneven in my walk out of that tiny, shameful room and I went into the bedroom and I didn't look at Kurogane. I put the futon into the corner of the room, turned toward the wall, and stared through the darkness at what I knew was wall an inch from my nose. The darkness was thinning, so I closed my eyes and the darkness swallowed me.

[Kurogane] It was dark. Not the transparent dark of night where my eyes could still see movement, but complete dark. That was all there was. Everything was just black, all my senses. I didn't fight it. I waited.

And slowly, other things began to creep in around the edges. I was laying down. Then there was the pain, a dull aching throb all across my torso. Then, the memories coming back starting at where I blacked out; the mage's face, blurred almost beyond recognizing above me. Taking the hit and falling. The fight.

I was unconscious then, for who-knew-how-long. I tried to move, and it was like my body belonged to someone else; heavy and unmoving like rock. The slash, deep and gaping burned. It hadn't healed, I could tell. I tried to open my eyes, but I could only stare at the back of my lids and the inside of my head. I stopped trying- it was a waste of energy and I didn't have enough energy to burn it up pointlessly.

Then there was something else. There were hands. They were cold, and the way they moved bothered me. But everything was still fuzzy. I waited, and things cleared. The kid's hands didn't move that way and neither did the princess's. They weren't bold enough. Neither of them would dream of touching me like this. They were too good for it; and too young. They were too decent to degrade my body while I was passed out. The mage.

Slowly, I felt the burning fury uncurl in my stomach behind the wound. How could he. How dare he. I wanted to snarl, but my body was completely disconnected from me, like that of a stranger. He was undoing my bandages, and his fingers were trailing on my skin. His palms brushed against me, and where he touched me, his touch lingered, pressing slightly because I could tell he didn't want to part- could tell in the way he seemed to have to pull his hands away. And it didn't matter for even half a second how goddamned good it felt. It didn't matter how my body seemed to burn at the touch of that bastard's hadns, burning fire rising to it the way cats did to people stupid enough to pet them. My fury was filling me up; pounding on my skull, right behind my eyes that wouldn't open.

That sick god damned mother fucking bastard. When I was awake, he didn't even look at me. If he did, I know he didn't see me. Not with this kind of heat. When I was awake, he didn't even act like he gave a damn thing if I came or went, if I lived or died. If I was awake, he would never touch me. I got injured, cut down like a human shield for the god damned bastard. Protecting him. And this. He put those god damned mother fucking hands like ice all over me; making me burn. And I want to hurt him, hurl him against a wall to see his skinny body slam against it, for the satisfaction of hearing the loud soundk of his head cracking loudly on it. I wanted for a moment to hurt him; for this, for lying. I coldly shut down that desire. I wouldn't hurt him. Not badly. But my anger didn't go away or diminish. Because it was the him, the damn bastard, not anyone else on the goddamned dimension, I knew that for a very long time, it wouldn't. No one but the son of a bitch mage could. I could control my anger. I was better at that than anyone. But underneath it all, I knew that under it, this hurt. I would translate that into fury, something else I was good at. That would make it harder every time I saw his face.

Him and his hands were there, laying bandages over me, and I could feel more and more. My anger burned hotter and hotter. I still couldn't move. And then, he left even the presence of his body at the bedside, something I could sense easily after becoming so attuned to his body, and I was left with my anger. I ignored it, and I waited, trying to go back to sleep. Eventually, I settled into my regular sleep; deep, but still aware. If the mage came, I would know it. And I would hate it. But I would know.

[Fai] I woke up startlingly fast, going from asleep to awake in less than a second. My mouth tasted foul, everything ached, and my forehead was now up against the cold wall. I pulled myself so that I sat on my futon, carefully avoiding looking at Kurogane. For a moment, my stomach lurched, and I thought I would repeat last night's episode, but thankfully it settled back quickly. Slowly, I stood, shaking slightly as I walked towards the bathroom, where I vigorously brushed my teeth. But even after that, my mouth still tasted horrible, even felt nasty. I brushed my tongue, the insides of my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, succeeding in making the sensation recede. I still had the urge to brush, to get clean, but for now it would have to do. I rinsed my mouth and fought the temptation to return to my futon, instead approaching Kurogane. I picked up a clean washcloth sitting on his nightstand, wetting it with cold water and brushing it over his lips.

I want to kiss him.

The thought sped across my mind, barely registering. It was simple, and it blanked out all my other thoughts. It was true, but. . . . I leaned forward, lowering myself until I was just above him. I could still pull back. My forearm was braced on the bed and he was a breath away and I didn't even pause even as my thoughts slowed to a stop.

Kiss him.

So I did. I let my lips just barely touch him, soft as the wings of one of the butterflies Yuuko adored. And then they pressed fully against his. And I realized that his mouth was the single best thing I had ever known in my life. His taste … . my stomach felt like an opening pit, dizzying me. I pulled back slowly, my lips sort of. . . tingling. I could still feel his skin on mine, his lips. Soft, but firm. Not giving. Slightly rough, maybe almost chapped. Like I imagined. Better. So much better.

And then his cold, wine-red eyes opened.

[Kurogane] I felt the mage's presence first. He was there, as if he always had been. It was the poison I knew, that had made me sleep deeply enough that his approach hadn't woken me up immediately. It made me uneasy. I was used to knowing; to always knowing where they all were, even when I didn't care what they did. And I didn't care. But I was alert. How could I not be?

There was a cold brush on my lips, soft, almost not there. So cold. Like his hands were. But not. Different. A chill went down my spine and thought I could have moved, I was frozen still, my breathing stopped. He . . . . no. It wasn't. I felt the anger shimmering in the pit of my stomach, not raging yet. Not yet. Maybe it wasn't. I remembered his hands. His touch on me. It was. His hands wanted me. Not like him, the mother fucking bastard, I thought bitterly.

Then, he pressed his lips against mine. Like him, they were cold. Soft. Full. He wasn't like the other ninjas I had sometimes been with. I knew when I saw him he wouldn't be. They were harsh and uncomfortably hot. The Mage was soft, his lips giving against mine. And cold. My heart slammed. Once. Twice. A third time. He pulled back. Sensual.

He thought I was asleep. He lied.

I made my eyes open. And I stared into his ice-blue ones. And their color was almost as cold as me. He was cold. But I was colder. And my anger burned under that ice.

His face was a mess of confusion. And then he smiled; instant and flawless. The cold burned away in the face of my anger.

"Stop fucking smiling." I growled, my fingers, loose and stiff from lack of movement curling slowly in the sheets. I felt my knuckles go white as I bore into him with my eyes. The smile was gone. Like it had never been. There wasn't anything more honest on that pale face.

"You goddamned coward." I snarled. I wanted to hit him. Wipe that blank look off his face. As if he didn't have feelings, just like the rest of us. Like he hadn't touched me. "You can't even wear your own god damn face. Where's your mother fucking shame?"

He didn't know what to say to that. What was there to say- it was true. What was he going to do? Tell me it was his face as if he was stupid enough to not know? He probably would. The mother fucker. Well if he didn't have anything else to say, then I did. Every time he smiled blindly at me and I let him walk away. Not anymore.

"You have no shame. If you did, you wouldn't still be lying to me.You never fucking learn a goddamn lesson, do you? You never have. Why start now? It's not like it matters to you."

[Fai] I was so happy, for just a second. He opened his eyes. And they were cold, frozen cold. Then he opened his mouth. Kurogane didn't shout. When he was truly angry, he didn't shout. His voice deepened, his tone measured, every word enunciated clearly, making it so easy to cut deep.

". . . start now? It's not like it matters to you."

Honestly? Most of the time, he was right. I wore a mask always, rather than show my emotions, and I didn't have shame when it mattered. I lied to him. I never learned. But that last comment snapped me to attention. I whirled in a cloud of blind rage, my open hand smacking him across the cheek. His head whipped to the other side.

"Matters to me? Matters to ME?" Angry tears gathered, vaguely blurring my vision. "What would you know about that, hmm? You do your damndest not to care, to make sure nothing matters to you, the oh-so-stoic ninja warrior. And then, you jump out in front of a blade for me, the one who matters least. I don't think you're the one who should be talking to me about that."

I was standing. And he was staring. His eyes, his dark-like-blood-not-cold-anymore-eyes were wide. I couldn't remember if they had ever looked like that before. Shocked. Completely shocked. A red outline of my hand was appearing on his face, across his cheeks and his lips. I couldn't tell if he noticed, because he just stared at me. His lips tightened and I felt my gut sinking. I had made him angrier. I turned away, but couldn't keep my eyes off him out of the corner of my eyes. I waited for the low stinging comment. And it didn't come.

"Fine." His voice wasn't low. Just quiet. He was looking away, at some corner of the room, completely still. "Just leave."

My throat closed for a minute. No apology. Not that I was expecting one. No anger. Nothing. Just the same hard face that I knew I could emotion behind. A storm of it. It's not like it matters.

To him that is.

"No" my voice left my throat, but it was a struggle to push it past that closed up feeling. I did it and I knew my voice hadn't cracked- yet- but it sounded wrong, strange in my ears.

Kuro's lips tightened until they went pale. His eyes closed, brows knotted together in a familiar but much more intense expression of his true fury. He didn't speak again. And neither did I.

It didn't matter anyway, right?

So why bother now.

I smiled away from him. It was the only smile of its kind I can remember ever wearing- it was cynical and sarcastic and bitterly twisted. And I let it stay on my face. Even that was a lie. Because deep down, I was just despairing. But this was easier. So I kept wearing it.

It doesn't matter anyway. It never has.

To Kurogane, it never will.

[A/N] RxR: Hee… I like this chapter. Fun, fun. Hasn't Kuro learned? Never piss off your uke. Incurring an uke's wrath is asking for trouble.

THM: **scoff** Since when does Kuor learn anything that's not either A) related to a weapon or B) beaten into his head? Anyway, I just love the angst. ^_^ They're all dark and stuff. 3 So, all of you. Go send me PMs and stuff. And reviews. And stuff. On my account. Which is full of awesome stuff of this caliber. Right here: .net/u/2279616/TheHatterMaddox

So yeah. Have a ball. The yaoi's on me, ladies.