Title: How Much

Fandom: Get Backers

Characters: Midou Ban x Kudo Himiko

Prompt: #79, Heal

Word Count: 1,528

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: DRAMA. So much drama it made me laugh. And note: making these two apologize to each other is NOT easy. Not easy at all.

The quiet click of the apartment door as it shut. The stunned, gaping silence that followed. The slow simmer of outrage and frustration, the angry roar building, building up in his throat until he lost it and loosed it, slamming one fist into the plaster of the wall, not caring if it cracked and buckled under his anger, not caring if Ginji could hear him as he descended the stairwell of their building.

It wasn't his partner he was angry at. Ginji would know, even if Ban was following his name with a string of curses.

Chunks of wall thunked dismally to the ground as Ban yanked out his hand and wheeled around, aiming a kick at one of the chairs. The cheap plastic broke and split, and Ban stood there, breathing hard, fist clenched, head bowed, teeth gritted.

And pain welled up in his chest, threatening to burst out, prickling at the back of his eyes.

"How much do you care about her, Ban-chan?"

Ban growled as he heard again Ginji's quiet, serious voice, saw again the somber look in his partner's eyes.

Then he folded against the floor, letting his head fall back against the wall with an audible, exhaled curse. Emotion after emotion was whirling around inside him, creating one big, indecipherable mess. He yanked out a cigarette and pulled out his lighter, stopped short when he saw the initials and remembered who it had belonged to.

Oh crap. I can't even smoke without remembering something connected to her.

He lit the stick anyway, and smoked to calm himself. But it barely, barely helped.

Slowly, the anger in his sharp blue eyes were eclipsed by self-loathing; his mouth twisted into a snarl of bitterness, pain, and bleakness.

"You haven't talked to her in weeks."

"It's her fault!" had been the vehement reply. The vehement denial. It wasn't her fault, he knew it and Ginji knew it too, even if he hadn't been there. It was never her fault when they argued; he just wouldn't stop, wouldn't know when enough was enough. They'd been fighting so much more lately, like they couldn't help it. And they thought everything would be all right after her seventeenth birthday.

The last argument had been big. Big enough to make them both angrier than they'd ever been, big enough to make them yell at each other that they never wanted to see each other again.

And it hurt, it hurt more than he'd ever dreamed, than he'd ever suspected it could. Hadn't he learned anything from being a Get Backer?

"How much do you care about her, Ban-chan?"

"What the hell, Ginji? You know the answer to that!"

Precious things are easily lost. And when you lose them…

"I know.

"Ban-chan, I don't know if you do."

…You'd do anything to get them back.

His partner's quiet footsteps towards the door, the weighty truth of his words sinking in. And the last thing he said. "Think about it, Ban-chan."

"I'm thinking, Ginji," he muttered to himself, his head falling into his hands. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

The minutes ticked by, and Ban remained there with his head in his hands, in the tiny apartment with a broken chair and a busted wall, and the mid-afternoon sun shining through the open windows.

Finally he reached his decision, lifted his head and picked himself up off the floor—then stopped. He could hear light footsteps outside, somebody's quick breathing from climbing the stairs, and a girl's voice muttering something that sounded suspiciously like self-encouragement.

Ban crossed the room in three quick strides and yanked open the door. And Himiko froze, one hand on the doorbell, the other propping a flat pizza box against her hip.

Ban took an involuntary step back, paused at the brief hurt look that flashed over her face. He couldn't stop his eyes from taking in every detail of her: the red-rimmed, downcast eyes, the tense, tired lines of her face, the slight trembling of her hands.

She hadn't lost weight or anything extreme like that, but everything about her said she'd been as torn up as he had.

Slowly, she took her hand off the doorbell; slowly, he stepped aside to let her in. She hesitated just inside the doorway, and this close he realized that her breathing was labored not just from climbing the stairs, but from crying.

"I brought this." Her soft voice reached his ears, welcome after so long. "I…we…Natsumi helped me make it, it was her idea, actually, because I didn't know what to do and…"

It had been planned, Ban realized; they'd worked on both him and Himiko. Ginji knew them both well, knew there was a chance that one of them would be too stubborn to move. His mouth worked before he could think of what to say properly, and he blurted, "Don't apologize."

Suddenly the box of pizza was in his hands and Himiko was gone; he blinked, cursed, and had enough self-control to lay it aside carefully before taking off after her, yelling her name.

It was that that stopped her, one flight down. She turned to face him, gripping at the metal railing as if to hold herself up, her eyes too bright and her mouth a tight line. Ban stumbled and fell against the wall, panting, clutching at his temples to soothe the headache that was beginning.

Silence took hold, filling the gaps between their harsh, loud breathing. They stared at each other, unable to read what was in each other's eyes.

How much do you care about her, Ban-chan?

His hand fell, clenched loosely at his side. "I'm sorry." It was more of a soft growl than a real spoken apology, but even she could not doubt the sincerity in it. Ban grimaced; she hadn't hidden her surprise either. He plunged on. "I said, don't apologize, because I know it's my fault, dammit, not yours. It…you shouldn't be the one apologizing."

Silence again, but she was relaxing. She was turned more towards him now, and it hit him full force, how he'd hated not speaking to her.

How much?

More than I ever thought possible, Ginji.

"Himiko," her name slipped out of him again, almost a plea and her head snapped up involuntarily, the expression on her face making his throat close up. Suddenly he shook his head violently, fist thudding into the wall again in frustration. "What the hell, this is all too dramatic!"

And the tension broke, and she was half laughing, half sobbing, suddenly in front of him and tugging at his arm, already wrist deep in the cement. "Effing idiot," she swore at him, "you're wrecking the building, your landlord will kick you out again…"

He stared down at her, almost not believing that she was speaking to him again, and was this close to him. "I'm sorry," he repeated, like those had become the only words he knew.

"You said that already." Her voice was still shaky.

"I mean it." Why do I sound so desperate for her to believe me?

Himiko's hands stilled, and she looked up at him with a look he couldn't decipher. Then the slightest of smiles crossed her face, and she said very softly, "I'm sorry, too. I also ignored you."

"It was my fault."

"You said that already," she practically groaned, and he stiffened in surprise when she let her head fall forward to hit his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin. "I'll admit that it's a nice change that you're apologizing, but Ban, don't be stupid!"

The intertwining perfumes that always surrounded her filled him, and he suddenly felt at peace. Hesitantly, he pulled his arm out of the wall, shaking her hands loose, and gingerly draped it across her shoulders. She stiffened, then, but grinned up at him before he could pull away. "That's also new."

He had to smirk. "And a nice change?"

Her cheeks flushed and another strange expression flashed across her eyes before she answered cockily, "Maybe." Then she grinned, hugged him around the waist, and stepped away before he could close his arms around her again. "C'mon. Let's eat. Your drama made me hungry."

Embarrassment swept over him and he snarled a curse at her, but she just laughed and ran up the stairs again, tugging at his hair as she slipped by.

--EnD--

Ginji crept up the stairs, trying to gauge if there was any murderous intent radiating from their apartment door. The door was closed; he pressed an ear to it, heard nothing inside, and frowned. He twisted the doorknob and flung the door open.

Ban was seated at the table, smoking nonchalantly, staring out the window. A pizza box lay open on the table, with one large slice still in it.

"Ban-chan?"

The urchin-headed Get Backer looked at him, and then looked away. "That's for you." A quiet, grateful smile, one that Ginji had never seen before, lifted the corner of his mouth. "…Thank you."

A full-fledged grin spread across Ginji's face, and he suddenly glomped his partner out of pure happiness.

"YOU MADE OUT! YOU MADE OUT!"

"GINJI! IT'S MADE UP, NOT MADE OUT!"