Chapter 3! Look at us go! :3 I say, hooah! Thank you everyone who read this far. I feel like I should put out the warning that this chapter is why I made this story rated "M". However, for seasoned yaoi fans, it's really quite tame. ^^;

And so Shizuo told him, trying his best not to get too flushed towards the end of it. He may have omitted a few details here and there, but jeez! It's not like Izaya needed to know all the intimate details, right? Izaya listened quietly, and was silent a while after Shizuo finished. "I think Zola's been trying to tell me something...but I'm not sure what. The first time I heard him speak, he was asking Vincent to forgive him for something. And that song you played, it's the first song Vincent every heard Zola play, and I think he played it for him often. I don't think it ended well between them. In fact, I'm pretty sure Vincent wound up in a prison of some sort."

"Seems like they are lovers that had quite the falling out," Izaya thought aloud as he began to pace back and forth.

"Well, I know Vincent loved him. He seemed to love him a LOT...but...I'm not so sure about Zola."

Izaya laughed. "Of course, the guy who looks like me is the one who's a little hard to read! What are you implying? That Zola never loved Vincent at all and used him in some way?"

"I'm not sure. I think he must have loved him a little, otherwise he wouldn't be seeking his forgiveness beyond the grave."

"You experienced all of this through the eyes of Vincent Scott, correct?"

"Yes."

"Could you feel what he was feeling? You mentioned a prison of some sort. What was going through his mind?"

Shizuo recalled the unpleasant feelings for a moment. "He felt betrayed and really sad..." his voice sounded almost hollow. Izaya patted him on the shoulder, comfortingly.

"Remember, it's not your problem, Shizu-chan," he warned, gently. "Don't let spirits from the past overwhelm you. We'll get to the bottom of it, neh?"

"You're right," Shizuo grunted, shaking off his melancholy. "What do you think about Zola?"

Izaya sighed, and his eyes rolled upward as he thought for a moment. "I think he was obviously lying about being a music student. More than likely, from what you're saying, he was probably affiliated with the Nazis and working with them to invade Cairo."

"That's terrible!" Shizuo cried, standing with clenched fists. "The scumbag! How could he lie about that to Vincent? It's not fair!"

"Whoa, Shizu-chan!" Izaya held his hands up with a nervous chuckle. "Life's not always fair, and remember what we talked about? Neither of these men are probably even still alive! Maybe it was Zola's job to lie! Maybe he was a spy! Even I have to be choosy with my words in my line of work. What was he supposed to do? Waltz into Cairo and announce his Nazi affiliations?"

"He didn't have to make Vincent care for him so much," Shizuo muttered.

"Sounds like Vincent made that decision on his own," Izaya pointed out. "Zola never asked for him to run after him." Shizuo just stared at him, disbelievingly. Izaya just didn't understand. It was impossible for Vincent not to love him, about as impossible for Shizuo not to love that little, stray fox that continued to turn his world upside down. "So instead of getting all bent out of shape about how two homosexuals behaved in a very turbulent time in Egypt over 70 years ago, why don't we do a little research, and see where that leads us?"

Shizuo grit his teeth, but then his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," he apologized. Izaya smiled.

"Nothing to worry about. I haven't seen the things you have. Get some rest. I have some work to do, but I'll get back to you when I find something out."

"Okay."

Izaya gave him a wave and walked out the door, and Shizuo laid back down in the bed, still feeling a bit under the weather. Good thing he had today off, anyway. He was going to have to find a way to make this nonsense up to Tom. Slowly, his thoughts began to drift away back to their present problem. Zola...a Nazi spy? Figured. He briefly wondered if it came down to Izaya's job and Shizuo's welfare, which would the informant choose? The blonde man was terrified to know the answer, especially now that he knew what it felt like to be on the losing end of a relationship like that. Even knowing he needn't ever fear chains or torture, or any of the things Vincent had faced, none of that was as terrible as being forsaken. With these somber feelings, the blonde man slowly drifted back to sleep.

"Hey, wise-guy!" Vincent roared out of his bedroom window into the crowded streets below. He wore nothing but a shirt and white shorts. "Mind telling me what happened to my fuckin' pants?"

Zola stared up at him with feigned innocence from the thick of it, all. "Vincent, what on earth...Ooooh! You mean these?" he reached his hand into his cloak and withdrew the brown pants in question, swinging them around. The townspeople began to gradually stare back and forth between the two, and one by one, began chuckling until the entire block was dying with laughter. They seemed to be always putting on a show of some sort, and the locals had grown quite accustomed to the strange pair's often hilarious antics. Zola smirked evilly up at him, as Vincent turned red with rage. "Guess you are staying home today, Vin-vin," he called

"I told you not to fucking call me that, you little sand flea!" Vincet yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'm going to wring your scrawny, little neck!"

"Ah hah! You'd have to catch me- Oh? Oh, Vin-vin, please tell me you're not climbing out the- Oh how indecent!" was all Zola could get out before the only partially dressed man leapt from the rooftop and landed, running straight toward him. A wave of gasps swept over the crowd at the display, and women quickly averted their eyes, while the men only laughed harder. Vincent ran straight up to the shorter man and smacked his forehead against the one turned up toward him. "Why, good morning, my sunshine!"

That was all it took for Vincent to take a couple of swings at him, which Zola nimbly dodged, before dropping down and sweeping his leg to knock Vincent off both his feet. He landed flat on his back, giving the dark haired man ample opportunity to escape, still waving the pants about like a trophy. A camel lazily turned where the dazed and distraught blonde man had fallen, the drool dripping from its mouth and thoroughly coating Vincent's face.

"UGH!" he quickly sat up amid all the laughter, wiping the mess from his face. Zola was far too gone for him to even have a hope of catching up. It was just lucky for that little sand flea that it wasn't time to leave on a guiding trip, again. A few British soldiers he was acquainted with had been passing by and stopped their chuckling long enough to help him to his feet. Bombardier Charlie Miller, who had been in Cairo for roughly as long as he had, patted him on the back.

"Eh, lad, the little misses givin' you trouble again?" he laughed.

"He's no lady," Vincent growled, "Otherwise I couldn't crack his skull in for this, later!"

"Aye, but he's a pretty one," Charlie mused. At the sudden territorial look Vincent threw him, the man quickly shook his head and put up his hands with a laugh. "Ah, not what I meant, mate!" he corrected. "Just stating a fact! Come on! Let's get you up and out of the street, yeah? We'll get you a sheet or whatever these blokes wear, and you can come have a late breakfast with me."

Vincent sighed. Sounded like as good of a plan as any. He couldn't understand why Zola did this kind of thing! It was damn annoying! And they'd had such a good night last night! A VERY good night... Best not to think about that at breakfast... And by the next morning, he was acting like a stupid flea again! Vincent ranted quite a bit throughout the entire meal, as Charlie regarded him with a patient smile.

"Got me a girl back home, I do," he laughed, once Vincent had finished his tirade and all but face planted into his eggs and toast. "She's a darling thing, but oh can she make the blood boil when she wants to! I guess that's the trouble when you love someone, yeah?" Vincent just smiled at the kind words, before attacking his egg. "What does Zola do when he runs off, anyway?"

"Beats me!" Vincent grumbled. "He was with the Bedouins before this. I think he just likes to wander around. He seems to always know something about everything. My guess would be he likes learning everything there is to know about wherever he is."

"I see..." the tone in Charlie's voice suddenly sounded a bit unhappy. "Vincent, I don't mean to be a bugger, but... don't you think there's something a bit odd about the fellow?"

"Well, of course I do!" Vincent agreed. "He's fucking nuts! You should listen to him wax his weirdo philosophies on life and people! He thinks me and every one else was put here on this god damn planet for his amusement! Sometimes I feel like punching him straight through a wall! Probably learned that from all those retarded schools! I swear to God, people go to school and they think they just know everything!"

"Eh, that's not what I meant..." Charlie scratched his chin, nervously. "I meant, well, do you think he's been telling the truth? About where he's from and why he's here?"

"What are you trying to say?" Vincent narrowed his eyes.

"I mean that, a few of the privates heard him speaking to some of the known Nazi sympathizers in this town, and it didn't sound quite so innocent. Don't you find it a little odd that he can speak fluent Arab coming from Italy, and before that, who knows?"

"No! He's been on the continent a while!" Vincent folded his arms, stubbornly. "He's the best violinist anyone's ever heard, and he told me outright that he was half German! If he is a spy, he's a lousy one! You said it yourself! He sticks out like a sore thumb!"

"He could be using that to his advantage," Charlie reasoned. "It's no secret that he's well liked. But you know as well as I do, Vincent, that war springs up in the blink of an eye, and we can muse and ponder all day long, but if we don't act now, there won't be time to, later."

"I'm not sure I like what you're insinuating..." Vincent glowered, dangerously.

"Easy now, mate," Charlie warned, already seeing the blonde man's muscles twitch. "I won't say anything to my sergeant, but I'm asking you, as a friend and an ally, to be careful. Love is blind."

"Tch! I'm not in love!" Vincent spat, as he rose from the table and threw down a few bills. Charlie grinned at him knowingly, and shrugged.

"And my mother's name ain't Mary."

"Well, I guess it 'ain't'!"

"See you around, mate. Just think about what I said."

Much to his chagrin, that's all Vincent did think about the rest of the day. Uncontrollably, his mind began to file through every question Zola had ever asked and dissect it for indications of espionage. He couldn't say the scale was tipping in his favor. By the time Zola returned late that night, almost tip-toeing into the room and doing his best to look quite remorseful, Vincent had worked himself up into quite a frenzy. He sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing the thawb Charlie had procured for him that morning.

"Ah, Vin-vin! You're still awake, eh?" Zola smiled, and carefully placed his folded pants next to him, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. "There! Good as new!" He smiled brightly, putting his hands on his hips. Vincent didn't reply, keeping his head bowed. "Hmm, Vin-vin seems quite angry," the dark haired man swayed from side to side, ready to quickly hop away in the event Vincent tried to exact revenge for his actions earlier that day. When he still failed to get any sort of answer from the silent man, he sighed and let his arms fall to his side. "It was all in good fun, Vincent! Maybe you should have more than one pair of pants, anyway! And look! I see someone, probably Charlie, was nice enough to let you have some local clothing, so you weren't housebound all day! Why are you-"

Before he could finish, Vincent quickly stood. Zola didn't have time to react before his strong arms reached out and wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him fiercely against his chest. The smaller man patted his arm, silently asking for room to breathe. He could feel the blonde man's heart beating wildly against his chest. When he finally relinquished his grip, Zola peered at him, searchingly. He didn't have to ask; the confusion and worry swirling around in Vincent's mocha colored eyes was answer enough, and the taller man's only outward reply was to slowly touch his lips with his, still holding him tightly. He could feel the musician's body grow limp in his arms and lean against him for support. Never breaking the contact of the kiss, which was quickly turning hungry and needy, he softly laid him down on the bed.

It couldn't be a lie...

Zola tugged the white tunic over his head easily, as Vincent unfastened the black garments concealing his slender body.

It just couldn't be...

One of Vincent's hands swept down Zola's side, gently massaging his hip with a thumb, as his other hand held his hair, tightly. The smaller man's eyes opened and flashed electrifying blue, as he gasped when the hand moved to his inner thigh. Vincent could feel the body beneath him arch into his touch, and he broke the kiss to bite down harsly at the base of his neck, causing the raven haired man to cry out with a mixture of pain and pleasure, his hips bucking more urgently for contact.

"Zola..." Vincent breathed, shutting his eyes and barely touching the tip of the other man's nose with his. "Do you love me?" he whispered.

"What?" Zola gasped, as his quickly hardening length brushed against Vincent's, causing both men to shiver, violently.

"Do you love me?"

"What are you talking about?" the darker haired man laughed in a breathy voice, gripping the larger male's rear and pushing them together with a roll of his hips. Vincent groaned and caught Zola's open mouth in another kiss as he began to slowly grind against him. He could hear the musician's muffled whimpers, and withdrew his lips to kiss and nip at the smaller man's ear.

"Do you love me? Just tell me..." Vincent whispered, peppering his slender neck with light kisses. His hand moved from his thigh to massage the dark haired man's now throbbing need, and Zola moaned loudly, arching his back as he began panting, heavily. "Tell me, and I'll believe you..."

"Hah!" Zola cried, unable to catch his breath. "You...You can't ask me that, now!" he smiled, before another stroke contorted his face with pleasure, and he closed his eyes tightly. "I'd tell you...anything you want to hear..." he panted, once Vincent gave him a chance to breathe.

"I don't care," Vincent growled, nuzzling the underside of his chin with his nose and burying his face, there. "I just want you to say it. I'll believe you." He brought both of his arms up to wrap them tightly around Zola's back, and held him once again in a crushing grip. Zola blinked a moment, before he smiled, warmly. Gently, he pushed his hand against Vincent's shoulder until he rolled on his back, and the smaller man was able to straddle him. Wetting his fingers and taking Vincent's length firmly in his hand, he spread his saliva across the member before he slowly began sinking himself down. The blonde man groaned and threw his head back, holding Zola's hips so tightly, there would be bruises the next morning. He tried with all his might not to move until the smaller man had settled, but he could not stop his lower body from occasionally twitching with desire. Once he had taken him in fully, Zola let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned forward, gently grazing his lips across Vincent's.

"Charlie's got you in quite a tizzy, eh?" he breathed, as he slowly began rocking his hips back and forth. Vincent couldn't answer, his head swimming from the sensations traveling up his spine. "What did he say? That I'm a spy?" One of his eyebrows lifted, as he raised himself halfway up, before letting himself fall against Vincent again. The blonde man let out another groan, and he couldn't stop his hips from bucking into the tight body on top of him. Zola leaned back, riding him as his eyes shut with pleasure. A moment later, he leaned forward again, sucking on Vincent's lower lip as the blonde man continued to thrust into him.

"I don't care what Charlie says," Vincent panted, pulling away and pausing for a moment, as a sheen of sweat began to cover his body. "I care what you say."

"I say...that I'm worse than any spy..." Zola lifted himself almost completely off the larger man's length. "I'm the devil," he breathed, before bringing himself back down, harshly. Vincent arched his back at the maddening sensation and sat up, flipping Zola's slender body over and hooking one of his long legs over his shoulder. Sinking himself in even deeper, they both let out a series of moans, as Vincent completely lost himself in the act. He thrust wildly, pounding into the smaller man who cried out his name and bucked his hips up to meet him, clutching at his broad shoulders as if his life depended on it. Vincent could feel his nails digging into his skin and grunted, as he began stroking Zola's length in unison with his thrusts. Zola almost let out a scream, and quickly threw his arm across his mouth, biting down on it to stifle the noise. A trickle of blood began to run down the length of his forearm to his elbow. Vincent could feel him growing close, as the body under him began to grow rigid, and shutter. His sweat drenched head slumped forward as he gave several more strong thrusts, pausing for a second every time he sheathed himself, completely, causing Zola's body to spasm. With a drawn out moan, the smaller man came, clamping his leg down tightly around Vincent's back as his toes curled, and pushing him deeper inside. Vincent groaned loudly, unable to hold back, as his lover's warm seed filled his hand and his body clamped down tightly around his pulsing member. He came with a violent shudder, pushing himself as far as he could into the the body underneath, before collapsing on top of him, both men breathing heavily. Zola reached forward and kissed Vincent's still tightly shut eyes.

"No matter what happens, you never have to doubt...," he whispered. "That I will always love you, Vincent Scott."

Vincent opened his eyes, and was surprised to see that the deep blue ones staring into his were blinking back tears. "I love you, too," he breathed, unwilling to ever let him go, as he pressed the side of his face against Zola's.

"No matter what happens?"

"Nothing could make me stop loving you."

Zola smiled, sadly, and gently stroked Vincent's blonde hair with his hand. An unseen tear escaped the corner of his eye and traveled slowly down his cheek.

Shizuo felt like his heart was breaking as he slowly regained consciousness, waking from the dream. They both had wanted so badly for it to be true. He rubbed his tired and groggy eyes and got up for work. He hadn't seen Izaya for a few days, though the informant had called to check on him, occasionally. They'd both been pretty busy with work, and not much headway had been made in finding out more about the two people whom this drama seemed to revolve around. The local libraries held no information, and nothing on the internet had been detailed enough to offer much direction, although Shizuo had learned a lot about World War II he'd never realized before. At least, according to what he read, the Nazi's had never been successful in reaching Cairo, as they had planned. In the end, though their numbers were greater than the British, their supply lines had proven too unsustainable, and they were forced to retreat.

He thought about it throughout the work day until evening rolled around, and Tom and him said their goodbyes and parted ways. If he had to guess, the year that he kept visiting in his sleep must have been 1940 or early 1941, before the attempted invasion began. There would probably be no record of Vincent during that scrimmage, and Shizuo doubted the French Foreign Legion kept tabs on soldiers once they left the service. Their greatest bet seemed to hinge on finding out something about Zola, but, as expected, the deepest, inner workings of the Nazi Regime weren't exactly easy to find information about, and that hadn't been a terribly popular battle, to begin with. He guessed if no one else had been able to figure out the mystery over the past 70 years, it wasn't going to be easy.

"Your face will get stuck that way, if you frown so much, Shizu-chan!" Izaya had appeared next to him, still carrying that cursed violin, but also a folder and a couple of books. Shizuo laughed, and lit a cigarette as he started walking.

"I didn't even hear you come up! What are you, a ninja?"

"I am the morning and the evening star!"

"...Shut the hell up... So, did you find anything?"

Izaya hugged the paper materials tightly to his chest, as he walked beside him. "Shizu-chan! When have I ever given up information for free?" he asked.

"Hm, I dunno. Seeing as I couldn't care less, I suppose you don't have to tell me," Shizuo did his best to sound completely uninterested, as he flicked the ashes off the end of his smoke, and Izaya frowned.

"Don't you want to stop having those dreams?"

"Probably not as bad as you want to get rid of this violin, now."

"Hah! I don't mind carrying it around at all! It's very good exercise!"

"Well, we'll see how you feel a couple of years from now."

"...Brute," the informant muttered, narrowing his eyes and looking down to the ground. "Fine! I'll show you the fruits of my expert researching skills...if you buy me dinner."

Shizuo's eyebrows shot high in the air. He hadn't actually paid for one of Izaya's meals since he was a fox, and something about the idea tickled him. "What? You mean like a date?" he queried, a sly smile spreading across his face. Izaya looked absolutely horrified.

"No, not like a date! It's a simple exchange! How dare you accuse me of ulterior motives! Meals have been used as payment throughout human history!...And I'm hungry!" Izaya scoffed, though he wouldn't meet Shizuo's eyes. Shizuo chuckled and ruffled Izaya's hair. He loved finding reasons to do that. It was very soft.

"Okay, flea! Don't get your panties in a bunch; I was just joking," he laughed. Izaya swatted his hand away and held his nose high in the air, walking a little ahead.

"I've changed my mind," he sniffed. "I've important work to do and really can't spare any of my precious time for neanderthals, today."

"You can't even spare some time for... ootoru?"

Izaya paused, and turned his head to peer over his shoulder. "Ootoru?"

Shizuo reached into his wallet and drew out a coupon for Russia Sushi, and he could see Izaya's eyes begin to shine. He crinkled the paper between his fingertips, and quirked a brow. Izaya spun around on his heels, happily, and fell back in step with the body guard, flinging the violin out, pointing forward. "Quickly, Shizu-chan, before all of their best fish is gone! MUSH!"

Shizuo chuckled, and quickened his pace. It was only a few blocks away, and Simon greeted them at the door.

"Izaya! Shizuo! Welcome!"

"Hey, Simon," Shizuo waved, as they walked past them. Izaya eyed him, coolly, and said nothing.

"Izaya! Why you carry so much? Ooooh, a violin? How wonderful! Did not realize you were a musician!"

"Personal project, Simon!" Izaya smiled brightly enough, but Shizuo could tell from his posture and tone of voice that the informant was nervous. He even hurried to get past the black Russian, as if trying to escape. Shizuo smiled, sympathetically. Even after all this time, Simon and Anja still spooked him, and he could understand to a certain degree.

"We're doing a little history project," the blonde elaborated as Izaya skated past. "We'll let you know how it turns out."

"Ah, good! By the way, Anja was looking for you!"

Shizuo paused. "What? Why? Is something wrong?" Simon laughed and shook his head.

"I know not. You speak to her, yes? Here, she give me address." Simon handed Shizuo a small piece of paper, which he accepted.

"Thanks, Simon. We'll drop by." They continued inside and sat at a small table, whereupon Izaya let the shiver he'd been holding back run down his spine, and proceeded to pick up a menu. "Still makes you uncomfortable, huh?"

"I don't get it," Izaya muttered, letting the menu obscure his face. "How can they know so much just by looking and touching things... It's creepy, not to mention unfair. I jump through quite a few hoops to know what I know."

Shizuo shrugged, letting his chin rest against his hand. "I don't think it really holds a candle to what you do. Anja and Simon don't know a lot. They just have impulses. There's a difference."

"Hmm," Izaya hummed, slapping the menu down. "Your words have placated me, and now I'm ready for a drink!" He called out an order for Saki to the bar, which was acknowledged with a nod.

"You never order drinks out in public," Shizuo commented.

"I do now! It's a special occasion! Take a look at this!" He flipped open one of his books to a tab he had marked and practically threw it in front of Shizuo with a loud thump. Shizuo stopped breathing. It was an English book, so he couldn't read much of the page, but he knew the person in the picture to the right all too well.

"God..." he mumbled, taking the book in hand.

"I'd like to introduce you to Ansgar Folke," Izaya said, proudly. Shizuo didn't even hear the name, he was so focused on the picture. He couldn't believe it. It was one thing to see a face in your dreams; it was quite another to see it in black and white on the page of a library book. He was standing quite a distance from the camera, but even so, it was undeniably him.

"It's Zola..." Shizuo muttered, almost dreamily. Izaya frowned.

"Before you jump aboard the ship to dreamland, don't you notice anything else about the picture," he asked, rather flatly. Shizuo furrowed his eyebrows at him, before studying the picture in more detail. What he was wearing was certainly not anything his dreams had depicted. Black polished, knee high boots reflected the light, as did the buttons and buckles which adorned the long, gray frock he wore. Also, he stood in front of a row of what appeared to be smartly dressed soldiers with two older men. The three of them had sabers, upon which Zola rested his hand as he gazed, stonily, across the faces in front of him. In fact, the more Shizuo looked at his expression and posture, the more he began to second guess himself. The man in the picture was so stiff, and rigid, and had a terrifying look of cold indifference on his face. It seemed so far removed from the lively and graceful person Shizuo knew him to be.

"He looks really cold..." Shizuo commented, more than a little perplexed.

"A lead agent of Abwehr would be," Izaya retorted, snatching the book up and closing it with a snap. "Really, Shizu-chan! I mean, sure there weren't swastikas everywhere, but wow!"

"So he was a Nazi, huh? What's 'Abwehr', then?" Shizuo asked.

"It was the department of German intelligence, and you were looking at one of their top ranking members!"

Shizuo tried in his mind to reconcile the image he'd just seen with the person he'd become almost intimately acquainted with in his dreams and found that even he was having a hard time. He began unconsciously shaking his head. "I just can't believe that... It must be a look alike."

"Oh, I don't think so," Izaya chuckled, dryly. He flipped to another part of the book. "Ansgar Z. Folke, as in Ansgar Zola Folke. Zola was his baptized name." Shizuo looked at him quizzically, and Izaya waved him off. "It's some Christian, religious practice that used to be common in Western Europe, but why so shocked, Shizu-chan?"

"I dunno...I mean, he wasn't exactly nice, but I didn't think he could really be anything like that..." Shizuo frowned, and Izaya threw him a rather amused smirk.

"You haven't read quite as much about his upbringing. Rising to his rank in the Nazi Regime was no easy feat for a half blood, believe me. He was expertly skilled both with a sword and a pistol, and make no mistake that his body count, innocent or not, was very, very high. People aren't who we think they are, hm?"

Shizuo didn't reply. He didn't want to admit how much Izaya resembled Zola, and just how much that now scared him. Apparently, it was possible to care deeply for someone and be a terrible person on the side. Shizuo honestly couldn't say he'd still love Izaya the same way if he found out that he'd helped carry out some of the most horrific acts in the history of humanity. The worst part was, he couldn't even truly deny Izaya's seemingly bizarre lack of empathy.

"I guess not," he eventually agreed, quietly. "Are you related to him after all, then?" God, he hoped not. He didn't need another concrete reason to feel doubtful about his best friend.

"First cousin, twice removed," Izaya replied simply. "His father was German, but his mother was definitely Japanese. Ah! I see our drinks at the counter!" He jumped from his seat to fetch them, and Shizuo just let his head flop against his arms on the table.

"Shizu-chan, did your imaginary puppy die again?" Izaya sighed, as he clanked a small, Saki glass in front of him, and poured the drink.

"You know? I think it did..."

"Ugh, so depressing!" he quickly downed a glass and let his fist drop to the table with a thud. "Why must you depress me so?"

"Got a lot on my mind."

"I'm sure falling in love with people who died over fifty years ago must be very hard on you."

Shizuo just blinked at the latent animosity behind his abnormally monotonous tone. What the hell?

"What the hell?" the blonde quirked his eyebrows, too surprised to sound angry. Izaya couldn't answer, as he was busy downing another drink. Shizuo hadn't even touched his, yet. Izaya sighed, loudly, and smacked his lips as he let the glass fall. It was not lost on Shizuo that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. He suddenly felt like laughing! It was truly the first time he'd seen the informant be so clueless, and it was kind of adorable. Shizuo suddenly smirked, and rested his chin against his palm. Izaya's eyes flickered to him, momentarily, before quickly glancing away as he poured yet another round.

"Yes, I'd find it funny too, if I were insane enough to be smitten with some person whose remains have probably, completely decayed by now."

Shizuo frowned. Although he didn't really know what to think about Zola, he certainly didn't want to think about his rotting corpse. That was a rather low blow... And Izaya wasn't really one to stoop so low...

"Sounds like your jealous or something, flea," Shizuo reasoned, finally taking a sip of his drink.

Izaya merely let out a loud "HAH!" at that, before consuming another shot of Saki, and Shizuo chuckled, pleased that he was able to see through the initial, verbal decoy to the heart of the issue, and pleased to know that Izaya, though he'd never admit it outright, was at least a little selfish of his attention. The mood between them almost immediately eased, and they both let out a contented sigh. Simon brought them a mix of sushi from the bar, most of which were ootoru, and Izaya happily plucked away at the dish, his cheeks quite flushed from the alcohol. "Oddly enough," he said around his mouthful, "I didn't find anything on a Scott."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Shizuo sighed. "Guess that was a fake name then, huh? It's kind of weird that the spy used his real name."

"Eh, not uncommon for Americans to change their last name, especially when they run off and join the foreign legion...but maybe you could ask Anja about it? When you go see her, tonight? She might know a way to find out the information I can't access."

"I think she'd have an easier time if you and the violin came along," Shizuo reasoned. "I mean, that's generally how those types of things work. Maybe if she held the violin, she could see more of their history, and where they wound up." Izaya looked away, chewing a bit more slowly. Shizuo knew he didn't like the idea, but was currently battling his curiosity. "Hey, just cause you tried to bite her, it's not like she's going to bite you, you know?"

"Tch! I know that!"

"And she was on your side when I was in a coma, remember?"

"...What?"

Shizuo's blood ran cold for a second, as the realization of what he'd just let slip dawned on him. "I mean, wasn't she? Shinra mentioned the little argument you all had..." he tried to cover. To his dismay, Izaya sat up, stiffly, and stared at him with a pained look. Shizuo almost face palmed. By covering for one thing he never wanted to bring up, he had just traded it for a different taboo topic. Izaya seemed to prefer to forget about that time, and he'd just painfully reminded him of when they were both pretty sure he was going to die. "Eh, but whatever! Let's drink!" he laughed, a little nervously, raising his glass. Izaya slowly slumped in his chair, his face cast downward. Shizuo began to mentally panic a bit. "Oi, flea, don't get all down! I didn't mean to bring it up! As if anything like that could kill a neanderthal like me, right? I'll stop moping, I promise, just-"

"I really thought..."

"Huh?"

"I really thought you were going to die..." Izaya barely whispered. The way he said it made Shizuo's heart twinge, and he had to fight the compulsion to reach his hand out to grab Izaya's. They'd yet to bring it up, after all the time that had passed. The informant's auburn eyes flickered to his for a moment, and Shizuo could see the pent up emotion swirling within them. Suddenly, all the worries he'd had moments ago completely evaporated, and he was shamed for even thinking them. Izaya was nothing like Zola. Shizuo knew that Izaya would never forsake him. Hesitantly, he did reach out his hand and gently pat Izaya's.

"I'm right here, flea. Don't let the alcohol affect you so much. Someone needs to stick around to look out for your dumb ass, so I'm not going anywhere," he smiled, which Izaya soon reflected. "And I'm not in love with a dead person!" he quickly added, grimacing a bit. "That's just weird!"

"Ah, but Shizu-chan's in love with somebody..." Izaya grinned, ruefully. "It's been all over your face for weeks."

The thought of telling him the truth flickered across the body guard's mind, but it quickly vanished. A crowded sushi bar with a slightly tipsy Izaya just didn't seem like the proper setting, and Shizuo knew better than to go against his gut. He tossed his head instead, with an indignant, "Heh! Are you a psychic, now?"

"Don't have to be one. It's impossible for you to hide your emotions, especially from me. I can practically read your mind; no magic required."

"Okay, what am I thinking right now, then?" Shizuo smiled. Izaya gazed at him, intently, before quickly turning his head to the side, as his cheeks began to redden. Awe, now he had him flustered! Perfect time to poke a little fun at him! Instead of using his words, Shizuo gave the informant's foot a little tap, sending the startled informant almost flying out of his chair. Before he made a scene, Izaya quickly straightened his jacket and scowled at him, taking his seat once more.

"That was naughty, Shizu-chan," he drawled, narrowing his eyes. The alcohol was definitely getting to him at this point. Shizuo just grinned, triumphantly.

"Scaredy flea," he teased. "You're scared of my foot, and you're scared of little old ladies who only want to help you."

"Argh! Fine! I'll come with you on your silly, little visit! But if something screwy happens, you will SO owe me!"

"Screwier than haunted violins?"

Izaya frowned and held up his middle finger. "...Fuc-"

"Agreed!"

Woot-woot! That's all folks! Hope everyone liked it, and that the love scene wasn't too painful. I just felt like it was important. There's a pretty intense scene in the next chapter, and I hope everyone stays tuned! Actually...the rest of the story from the end of the next chapter is going to be a roller coaster ride of sorts. ^o^ Thank you for reading!