Author's Note: Enough of the skirting around, we get on with life. Since I think it's not fair that Shiraishi gets a drunk night, I decide to give Aizawa one too. Plus: A guest appearance by our one and only shemale!

"Ara, how rare."

Mary Jane Youko (true name Ooyama Tsuneo) arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow at the sight of her customer. She craned her neck expecting the other three to follow, but none. Aizawa Kousaku was alone.

He seated himself at his usual secluded corner and signaled for Youko to bring some whiskey – his preferred drink. She had gotten used to his non-verbal attitude and did not grumble – while he certainly was a strange customer he did not pass out drunk and did not put it on his tab. But a bartender must always be friendly, so she put on her best smile and asked; "Hard day at work today, doctor?"

Kousaku paused with the glass midway to his lips and then regarded her seriously. "No."

But he must be lying, because three hours and three bottles later he had drunk himself into a pleasant, foggy mist. And a pleasant, foggy Kousaku (Youko discovered) was surprisingly chatty.

With each gulp his mood had slid deeper and deeper into darkness. Perhaps what she said was true – it was a mistake. It was a mistake for him to believe that they could become something other… other than what they had been. He didn't know why he wanted more – it was a selfish wish and now he had to suffer the consequence. It was a mistake to let his heart rule when usually his mind would intervene. Now he wasn't even sure what he was doing was right, letting her believe he had spelt with her because he was forced to. Would she believe him if he told her he had been a willing partner? Or would she simply think he was trying to protect her from her own feelings. Now…

"She won't talk to me." He said slowly, swirling the ice in his glass. Youko perked her ears from behind the bar. "Come again?"
Kousaku gulped down the melted ice and mutely asked for another glass. Youko frowned. "I think you're already drinking too much doctor. You won't be able to hold a scalpel tomorrow morning."

Kousaku scowled with displeasure at being disobeyed and Youko hurriedly brought out another bottle. "Not my business if you have a massive hangover tomorrow." She sighed and poured him another. "What were you saying just now?"

He knew he wasn't inebriated to the point of no return, but he didn't want to stop drinking either. The whiskey was pleasantly warm, warm like her lips, her skin, her breaths… He inhaled and half believed she was there, next to him.

Impossible. Said girl was doing her shift and no amount of wishing would will her into existence here. Even if she was here…

"She's not talking to me." He mumbled. "She's angry I slept with her." He closed his eyes and completely missed Youko's openmouthed surprise. Youko leaned forward and slowly asked. "You have a girlfriend, doctor?"

He blearily shook his head. "No. Not. She's…" He sighed and took another gulp; "Shiraishi's not my gfriend." His words were slightly slurred now. "She's mad at me. 'Ngry."

"I think you've had enough." Youko withdrew the bottle and stood up. "I'm calling Dr. Shiraishi right now. You're starting to talk nonsense."

"She won't come." Was what he muttered.

Youko hastily dialed Megumi's number and it was answered on the third ring. "Shiraishi here."

"Dr. Shiraishi, you'd better come right now," Youko whispered. "Dr. Aizawa's drunk and I don't think he can get home on his own."

There was an awkward pause as the girl at the other end seemed to weigh the request. Finally Megumi said uncertainly; "I'll be there soon. Please don't let him drink anymore, Mary Jane."

Easier said than done, Youko thought grimly. Kousaku had moved himself to the bar and tapped his shot glass insistently on the counter. Youko shook her head. "You're not having anymore, doctor. Just stay put until Dr. Shiraishi comes."

"She'snt coming," Kousaku laughed bitterly. "Still hasn't forgiven me fo' sleeping with 'er."

"Again with the nonsense." Youko clucked and another thought occurred to her. "You mean you were imagining Dr. Shiraishi while you slept with another girl?" She wrinkled her nose. "That's an awful thing to do. Fantasizing like that will only make her dislike you, y'know."

Kousaku did not say anything further, he just sat there staring mutely at his glass. Occasionally he would tap his glass on the counter but Youko ignored him. Finally he gave up and simply slumped down on the counter, muttering incomprehensible words.

True to her word, Megumi arrived half an hour later. Youko signaled to Kousaku and Megumi approached him uncertainly. "Aizawa?"

He raised his head slightly and looked at her with an unfocused gaze. "… Shiraishi." He must be hallucinating. She's here.

"How much did he drink?" Megumi asked Youko, who snickered. "Nowhere as much as you can, but he's not all that a drinker. Just get him home before he passes out please?"

"Aizawa, you're drunk." She stated matter-of-factly and he considered it. He probably was, if he could conjure her up so realistically. She even smelt of antiseptic and the dry stale air of hospitals.

Megumi found Kousaku's jacket discarded on the sofa and with some cajoling managed to get him to wear it. "You're going to be late to work tomorrow and Dr. Saijo's not going to like it, Aizawa," She warned him and quickly paid the bill on his behalf. "I've called a taxi for you," Youko said. "Take care of him, ugly."

At least he didn't need to be supported. She didn't think she could hold his weight if he chose to lean on her. Eventhough he wasn't all that big, he weighed at least 30 kilos more. She got him into the cab and asked his address. Kousaku gave the name of an apartment not far from where she lived and she instructed the cabby to follow it.

His apartment was strangely sterile, cold. The furniture still smelled brand-new and there was nothing that indicated it being a home – no photos, no knick-knacks. It was simply a place to return to but not to be lived in. She helped him into bed and found hangover medicine in the bedside drawer, which she set on the night table with a glass of water. He was strangely co-operative and Megumi summarized it was because he still believed she was an illusion. Sometime between taking off his shoes and fluffing his pillows it occurred to her that she had never seen Kousaku in such a state. What could have possibly made him want to drown in his drink?

She finished by drawing the covers up around him and was surprised when he caught her hand. He mumbled something and she frowned, unable to make it out. So she leaned closer, acutely aware of how close they were already.

"Shiraishi…"

Her heart skipped at his whisper. His eyes were closed, half between the land of dreams and waking. She froze in place, waiting for him to continue.

"… Angry?" He finally rasped.

She deflated a little and couldn't resist laying a gentle palm on his cheek. Despite everything that had happened, despite herself convincing she was at fault, she could not deny that tiny part of her that was attracted to this enigmatic, pragmatic man. This tiny part of her wasn't guilty; it was incredulously happy to have woken up beside him, yet she couldn't bring herself to listen to it. This was the part that had withered upon witnessing him slouched over the bar, almost cried when he had stared at her with eyes full of pain. This little part of her wanted to hold him and comfort him, but it was just not real. It simply couldn't be true.

But no matter what she felt for him – affection, shyness, frustration, she had never been angry.

"Never." She murmured and gently extracted her hand from his grasp. She found a Post-It on the desk and hastily scrawled on it; Got you home. Don't worry about your tab, I paid for it. She hesitated before signing her name, wanting to say more but no knowing how to say it. She finally just signed her name - Shiraishi.

She put the note under the glass of water and quietly let herself out of the apartment, casting him a final glance.