A/N: I hate OC's. Alas, they are a necessary evil sometimes.
Fujiwara Jirou paced anxiously. He checked his phone again, as if he could have somehow missed a message since the last time he had checked it, two minutes ago.
Seven days.
It had been one week of this torture and he could feel himself reaching his limit. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on work…
Jirou clenched the phone tighter in his hand until the plastic began to creak. What if he's already made that information public? It was hardly the first time the thought had crossed his mind since that morning nearly two months ago when he had opened up a mysterious email to find pictures of himself with a young blonde woman he had met at the bar one drunken night. Attached had been a simple message:
It would be a real shame if your wife were to see this. Luckily for you, you can stop that from happening.
Since then, he had been steadily feeding the sender of this email, who went by 'Nakura', a stream of information about the company he worked for.
He knew the risks.
He knew that "Yodogiri Antiquities" was really just a front for Japan's largest black market. But what was he supposed to do? He just worked with the finances. He sat behind a desk and looked at numbers all day. Surely he could plead ignorance to the drug trading, the money laundering and the human trafficking if the authorities ever got ahold of that information. No, the real issue was if his boss ever found out…
"Damn it," spat Jirou, glaring at his cell phone as if it were responsible for this. He debated whether to try calling again. He had already left six messages that had been pointedly ignored by Nakura and as much as he didn't want to seem desperate… he was.
"Everything alright, Jirou?" Sakamoto Eiji grinned at him over the top of his square glasses. Brought abruptly out of his thoughts, Jirou frowned at the shaggy-haired man in front of him. Eiji worked in 'personnel' and had always rubbed Jirou the wrong way. Everyone else saw him as an easy-going, friendly guy, but Jirou could tell it was all a fake persona.
"Fine," Jirou grunted, shoving his phone deep into his pocket, "do you have the paperwork I need?"
"Here you go," Eiji handed him a clipboard, smile still in place. Jirou scanned the pages, no longer impressed by the staggering amounts of money listed within.
"You seem really tense lately," Eiji commented, adjusting his glasses, "I was just making sure nothing was troubling you." Jirou frowned, glancing up at the too-wide smile the other man wore, before returning to his work.
"It's nothing," he replied, shortly.
"Maybe you're working too hard," Eiji continued, unmindful of Jirou's growing coldness, "perhaps you need to relax, hit a bar," his voice lowered an octave, "…find a pretty young lady…" Jirou looked up sharply, blood draining from his face. No… Eiji gave a low chuckle.
"I can't believe you would be using the office computer to answer such personal emails," Eiji grinned in an almost predatory way, "Can you imagine what the boss would think?"
"I-I didn't have a choice!" Jirou pleaded, the forgotten clipboard hitting the floor with a clattering sound, "please, I need this job! I can't afford to be fired!"
"Fired?" Eiji snorted in disbelief, "you can't really be that naïve can you? Don't tell me you don't actually know what goes on here. Do you really think people that sell information on finances, names and merchandise are fired? They disappear without a trace. A company like this? They have access to mercenaries, assassins, interrogators…"
"W-wait.." Jirou could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He knew Eiji was right, he just didn't want to believe it…
He couldn't breathe.
His vision was darkening.
"So tell me, you havebeen sending information to that Nakura guy, haven't you?" Damn it, I can't believe I'm being doubly blackmailed…wait…
"I only work with numbers. Only finances." Jirou told the other slowly, "I don't have access to any names or lists of merchandise…" Eiji cocked his head, grin wavering ever so slightly. "…but you work in personnel. You have access to all that information. Information that has also been leaked, hasn't it?"
Eiji wasn't smiling anymore. Jirou continued, feeling more confident now.
"He's been blackmailing you too, hasn't he? And you were trying to pin it all on me!" Eiji frowned, opening his mouth to retort before closing it again. A moment passed as the two men stared each other down and Jirou could feel anger starting to replace the fear he'd felt moments ago.
Eiji broke the silence by sighing and pulling an electronic device out of his pocket. He clicked the 'stop' button on the recorder, his smile reforming.
"That was my plan," he admitted, tossing the recorder in the air and catching it, nimbly, "but you were a lot more clever than I anticipated."
"You bastard," Jirou growled, clenching his fists and moving forward a step. Eiji held up his hands placatingly.
"Hey, the way I see it, we have a common enemy now. Instead of fighting each other, we could work together to take down our real enemy." Jirou hesitated. He didn't trust Eiji. Even less so now, but to be free from under Nakura's thumb…
"How do you plan to do that?" The allure of being free was too great to deny.
Even if it meant working with this bastard.
"Well," smirked Eiji, "I happened to learn his real name from Kousuke, and with a bit of digging even got his address."
"Kousuke?" Jirou frowned, "How did he know about this? He got fired almost a month ago." Eiji rolled his eyes, looking at Jirou over the rim of his glasses.
"What did I just tell you about people getting fired?" He asked, exasperated. Jirou felt his stomach clench.
"Nakura was blackmailing him too? How many people does he have selling him information?" Jirou was starting to get the feeling this was a lot bigger than he originally thought.
"Honestly, I don't really care," Eiji shrugged, "all I want is to be able to live my life without looking over my shoulder all the time."
"Yeah…me too I guess," Jirou nodded, "so what do I have to do?"
"Well," Eiji grinned, predatorily again, "do you think you could manage to move some money around? Say, ten million yen?" Jirou frowned. Ten million was nothing. Moving that much would be child's play.
"I could…" he replied, carefully, "depending on what you need it for…"
"I know of several contacts who specialize in... taking care of these kinds of situations." Jirou snorted. Does he intend to hire some assassin or something?
"Like who?"
"Have you ever heard of a Shimono Hideki?" Jirou felt the blood leave his face for the second time that morning. Eiji chuckled.
"I assume that's a yes."
-DRRR-
Izaya's elbow gave with a wet sounding snap. Pain shot through his arm like liquid fire, burning from his fingertips to his shoulder. The words he'd been about to say died on his lips, forgotten in the torrential wave of pain that wracked his body. Izaya tried to inhale, but the breath caught in his throat, his body going limp and vision darkening for a moment before clearing. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep what was left of his stomach contents where they belonged.
The knife he'd been about to pull out of his coat was forgotten, either somewhere on the ground below him or still in the recesses of his pocket. It didn't really matter, he couldn't reach it now anyway.
Shizuo dropped grabbed his other arm, hauling it away from where it had been holding his ribs and squeezing. Is he going to break all my bones? Izaya's stomach dropped at the thought, adrenaline pouring through his body and sharpening his mind. I don't know if I can actually…
"Shi-"
Snap.
Izaya's vision turned white for a heartbeat, mind screaming, ears ringing. His ribs protested and he realized the screaming was actually coming from him. Shizuo's dispassionate eyes bored into his and the blond dropped him to the ground.
Pain.
Agonizing pain as every injury made itself known upon collision with the unforgiving ground.
He's going to kill me.
Fear. True fear blossomed in his chest, clenched at his heart and made his head buzz.
He's really going to. I'm going to die…
Izaya inhaled a shaky, unsatisfying breath. He was feeling lightheaded with terror and lack of oxygen. Shizuo stood above him. Backlit by the light, his face was nothing but a shadow, surrounded by a glowing nimbus. For some reason, the image evoked a fear deeper than anything he'd ever known. Something primal and instinctive recoiled in him.
"W-wait," he rasped, hating the sound of his voice, "what would Kasuka say… if he knew… his brother was… a killer…" Talking was difficult; he couldn't seem to get enough air. Apparently it was all for naught anyways as Shizuo's cold eyes didn't even flicker at the words. He knelt next to Izaya, placing a hand on his shoulder.
I don't want to die…
Shizuo pushed, palm pressing heavily on Izaya's collarbone until it gave. Spikes of pain erupted throughout his shoulder. Izaya had given up all pretenses of holding in his cries of pain, but he found he didn't even have the breath to scream. His vision darkened again and for a brief moment, he saw himself from above. His face streaked with blood, his arm at a strange angle, chest misshapen and too still…
Izaya choked on his next breath, tasting blood. His vision wavered and blurred with the pained tears rolling down his cheeks. He could feel his pulse in every broken part of his body, his entire being aching in time to his heartbeat.
I don't want to die…
Shizuo leaned forward, grabbing the sides of Izaya's head, fingers curling painfully into his hair.
This isn't supposed to happen. I don't want to die…
Shizuo's thumbs moved over his eyes, slowly applying pressure.
Izaya's mind filled with the image of Shizuo's incredible strength. Fingers that could bend steel and punch through brick, pressing on the most sensitive part of his face. Pressing Izaya's eyes into the back of his skull would be easy for the beast, popping them like overripe fruit…
"Shizuo!" He was screaming, horror and adrenaline lending his voice power, "Wait waitwaitwait! Don't-" His chest heaved, even the pain forgotten for the moment against the onslaught of terror.
The pressure increased and his vision exploded with a starburst of colors and beyond that, an imposing dark figure, an aura of blindingly white light behind him…
Izaya woke with a startled gasp, blinking rapidly. He scanned the room wildly, only letting out a shaky breath when he was suitably convinced he was alone. His heart still thundered in his chest, making his ribs and head ache sharply.
Izaya closed his eyes for the moment, trying to steady his breathing. That's what happened, huh? He opened his eyes slowly, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had formed on the back of his neck.
His body hurt more than it had last time he'd woken up and his head, in spite of the throbbing headache, felt relatively clear. A quick examination of his body confirmed his suspicion that Shinra hadn't replaced the IV lines. Izaya felt oddly grateful for that fact. He really hated how morphine muddled his thoughts.
As the informant looked around the room thoughtfully he became aware of another pressing issue.
He had to pee.
Actually, he really had to pee.
Izaya glanced at the door, knowing the bathroom was a mere ten steps down the hall. An inconsequential distance normally. A marathon right now. Like hell I'm asking for help going to the bathroom.
Izaya grit his teeth and mentally prepared himself for the task of sitting up. He briefly wondered how Shinra had dealt with his bodily functions for the last few days before deciding he would rather stay blissfully ignorant and entertain the delusion that his body had simply been frozen for the last five or six days.
Izaya propped himself up with his left elbow, trying to ignore the resulting pain shooting through his forearm, and lurched forward, his ribs singing with agony. He sat for a moment, catching his breath. How can sitting up be so difficult?! He wondered, more bitterly than he intended. To his surprise and horror his eyes began to sting, frustrated tears forming. Get ahold of yourself, Orihara! He mentally scoffed, this is absurd!
Izaya scowled, blinking back the moisture and hating his own weakness. With renewed determination, he grabbed the blanket in his fingertips, his hand mostly immobilized by the splint, and pulled it back, revealing his bare legs.
At least that beast didn't break my legs. The thought of not being able to walk, possibly ever again, made Izaya swallow heavily. When did I get so easily distracted? He wondered absently, carefully placing his bare feet on the cold floor.
Standing wasn't quite as difficult. Izaya slowly slid off the bed, letting his legs do the work of catching himself. They trembled slightly and he distantly wondered when he had last eaten. He made his way, with shuffling steps, to the door, even that motion making his ribs and shoulder spark with pain.
The door took an embarrassingly long time to open and his mind wandered back to a time, a mere week ago, when he would have been able to easily open such a door, whether closed or even locked.
Izaya hated being immobilized.
Hated it.
Hated feeling weak.
Vulnerable.
Scared.
Shoving all thoughts of weakness aside, he concentrated on the task at hand. From the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of dishes clattering and something making delicious sizzling noises. Shinra's voice drifted through the apartment, layered with affection.
"Oh Celty! That smells wonderful! I'm the luckiest man on earth to have such a beautiful and skilled goddess to love!" A pause indicated Celty probably typing out a response.
"Ah Celty! My heart is going to explode with joy!" Clearly, the dullahan was finally starting to return Shinra's one-sided feelings.
Izaya's mind flashed to all the humans who hated him. What's it like to have your unrequited love finally acknowledged and returned? The sudden thought surprised him, as did the wistful longing that accompanied it.
Izaya scowled, deciding these strange thoughts were the result of lingering drugs left in his system. This is why I hate narcotics. He continued his slow walk down the hall, flipping the bathroom light on and closing the door with his hip. He pointedly avoided the mirror, and shuffled over to the toilet.
As much as Izaya loathed the lack of privacy the hospital gown provided, he was relieved not to have to fumble with a zipper at the very least. After finishing, he moved back to the sink and hesitated the barest of moments before looking up.
The face looking back had sunken eyes and dark circles. The right side of his face was still swollen, though now it was mostly in shades of yellow and green, the darker blues and blacks only showing on his cheekbone and eyebrow. And was that…
Izaya tilted his head, frowning. That bastard! His eyes widened at the shaved patch of hair above his right ear, a neat row of stitches showing through the clear bandage.
It was stupid.
It was only hair.
It would grow back.
It was nothing.
And despite all that, Izaya felt the burn forming behind his eyes again. The lack of control over something as trivial as his hair reminded him, once again, just how vulnerable he truly was. Damn it…
Izaya was still trying to gain some control over his frustration when a knock came at the door.
"Izaya?" Shinra's voice was cheerful on the surface, but Izaya heard the undertone of concern. "You really shouldn't be moving around too much. I know you hate staying still, but if you shift your ribs out of place, it's just going to take longer for everything to heal."
He didn't answer, trying to compose himself enough to face his observant friend.
"Izaya?" The concern was poking through a little more now as Shinra knocked again, "Celty made a delicious beef sukiyaki, you should eat something if you want to regain your strength."
Actually, that sounds pretty good… He was suddenly aware of the empty void of his stomach, reawakened with the mention of food.
"Izaya? I'm coming in now," Shinra warned, opening the door Izaya hadn't bothered to lock.
"Pervert," Izaya smirked, schooling his face into a casual expression. Shinra grinned, the bathroom light catching his glasses and lending to his crazed look.
"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked, and Izaya could tell that despite the casual inquiry, Shinra was studying him carefully.
"Fine," Izaya replied, shrugging his left arm and wincing as it pulled on his broken collarbone. "Hungry." He added truthfully.
"Well, my darling Celty made lots of food if you want to join us for supper," Shinra continued as if they were having a conversation on the phone, not standing awkwardly close in the doctor's tiny bathroom.
"I'll clear my schedule," Izaya replied sarcastically.
"Excellent!" Shinra said enthusiastically, then suddenly hesitant, added "Do you… do you need any help with-"
"I'm fine," Izaya interrupted, embarrassed frustration showing, despite his best efforts. He knew Shinra could see right through him. The doctor was one of the few people that he couldn't fool.
"Alright then!" Shinra nodded, grin returning, "I'll leave you to it." He exited the bathroom, turning back to the kitchen where the delicious smells of cooking beef wafted from. Izaya glanced once more at the face in the mirror before following the doctor, albeit at a much slower pace.
He entered the kitchen in time to see Celty in a pink apron, placing a set of chopsticks in front of Shinra and pouring him a glass of water.
"You've taken to the domestic human life rather quickly," he commented, slowly lowering himself into a chair. Celty turned to him, then to Shinra. They shared a brief, knowing look that made Izaya uncomfortable as he couldn't completely decipher it. Celty poured him a glass as well, and sat next to Shinra who was already digging enthusiastically into the hotpot.
Izaya looked down at the chopsticks in front of him and abruptly realized he would never be able to hold them. Shinra seemed to have realized the same thing, stopping with a bite halfway to his mouth.
"Ah… right," Shinra said, "Well, I suppose if you asked nicely I could be persuaded to feed you, but don't think I'm going to be making a habit of it." Izaya knew Shinra was trying to make light of the situation, but it bothered him just how transparent he must be for Shinra to console him.
"Hm," Izaya forced a grin, "I guess I'll allow you the honor this time."
Shinra grinned back.
-DRRR-
Shizuo took a long drag of his cigarette, releasing the smoke in a thin stream through pursed lips.
It wasn't as therapeutic as it used to be.
He had been distracted lately. He had noticed. Tom had noticed. Hell, even one of the punks they were collecting from had commented on it.
He knew what it was.
It was the same cause as all of his problems, of course. Even The Calm couldn't help him with this. In fact, whenever he entered The Calm, his first thoughts were usually along the lines of:
I made a mistake. I should have killed him. He needs to die.
To be honest, it was annoying. He had decided not to kill Izaya, right? It didn't mean he had to like the bastard, but this was supposed to be a triumph over his violent impulses. So why did he still want to kill Izaya?
I'll have to ask Ono-sensei about it during my session next week. Maybe he knows.
"Shizuo?" Tom called, interrupting Shizuo's thoughts, "let's finish off the Kuroda residence and then we'll call it a day. This weather is brutal…"
"Yeah…" Shizuo agreed, absently. Actually, it was especially cold today, the wind nearly taking his breath away.
"Did you hear it's supposed to actually snow tonight?" Tom was saying, breathing into his cupped hands as they started walking.
"Really?"
"Yeah, though it's not as bad as the storms in Kyoto or the recent earthquakes in Hokkaido. It's just been a string of bad luck with the weather lately…" Tom was rambling now and Shizuo tuned him out, content to his own thoughts for now.
It had been nearly a week since… the incident and Shizuo still wasn't sure how he felt. He still hated Izaya, he was pretty sure about that, but the mindless rage disappeared when he remembered gripping Izaya's head in his hands, or how still he had been on the cot in Shinra's apartment, or…
"Shizuo?" Tom's tone of voice indicated this wasn't the first time he had tried to get the blond's attention.
"Huh?"
"You seem really out of sorts lately," Tom commented, glancing at Shizuo curiously, "is everything alright?" Shizuo sighed. He had been waiting for Tom to ask and was rather surprised it had taken so long. He knew the other man could read him like an open book. Well, as far as that went, everyone could read him pretty well. Shizuo didn't see the point in hiding his feelings.
"It's Izaya," Shizuo answered bluntly. He saw Tom flinch and look around, trying to spot the smirking informant. "He's not here," Shizuo added, "He's probably still at Shinra's."
"The doctor?" Tom asked in surprise.
"Yeah," Shizuo answered, pulling out a paper envelope to dispose of the last of his smoke. Tom was quiet for a while and Shizuo knew he was processing all the implications of their short conversation.
"You didn't kill him, then," His senpai said at last.
"Yeah," Shizuo agreed again.
"But you could have."
"Yeah."
"Ah." And with those simple words, Shizuo saw understanding break over Tom's face. They walked in silence for a while, hunching their shoulders against the cold wind. Finally Tom spoke again.
"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing." Shizuo sighed.
"I wish I was as convinced as you are, Tom-san."
A/N: So, we've come to that point. I've been pushing the T rating as it is, and there's more planned for the future. This leaves me with the options of either toning down the story or bumping up the rating.