("Crying"
By Roy Orbison

I was all right for a while
I could smile for a while
But I saw you last night
You held my hand so tight
When you stopped to say hello
You wished me well
You couldn't tell that I've been crying over you,
Crying over you
And you said "So long" Left me standing all alone,
Alone and crying, crying, crying, crying

It's hard to understand
But the touch of your hand can start me crying

I thought that I was over you
But it's true, so true
I love you even more than I did before
But darling, what can I do?
For you don't love me
And I'll always be crying over you, crying over you

Yes now you're gone
And from this moment on, I'll be crying, crying, crying, crying
Yeah, crying, crying over you)

CHAPTER 6: Reunion

If there was one thing O-Ren ever asked herself about anything in her life at that time, it would have to be why Gogo wore schoolgirl outfits. O-Ren was paying a private tutor to educate the unstable teen, there being no need to worry about Gogo killing a teacher or a group of students and the public finding out about it. She didn't want to be responsible for a Tokyo version of Columbine. She may have been cold-blooded, but not cold-blooded like Matsumoto had been. It was something she swore to herself, no more harming of innocent bystanders. She made that promise after that day in El Paso, swearing to herself that she would never harm any innocent bystanders ever again, only criminals, thugs and those who have done wrong. And that included through inaction. There was that one man that Gogo killed at the bar a while back, but O-Ren had a little checking done and found out he had been stealing money from over a dozen trust funds from the bank he worked at, those left by the grandparents to their grandchildren. Gogo, though she was heavily intoxicated, was able to spot the criminal very well. Not only that, but buying a teenage girl 18 glasses plus half a bottle of sake, the man obviously had intentions other than a normal one night stand. Gogo handled herself well. Excessively, but well.

Both O-Ren and Gogo were at the bar in the study, with O-Ren tending it. She slid a glass of milk in front of the sleepy-eyed teenager. O-Ren wasn't sure if it was from a hang over or from being exhausted from sex, though they did seem to give off the same down effect on Gogo. O-Ren actually had suspicions that Gogo was having sex with the tutor, but not during the teaching.

At least she's learning first and then fucking him, O-Ren thought, if she is, in fact, fucking him.

O-Ren decided to have a glass herself. She loved milk. It was the only thing that reminded her of the good times in her childhood. O-Ren remembered Greg liked lemonade. There were only two kinds of people in life, lemonade people and milk people, much like how a man can be either an Elvis man or a Beatles man. O-Ren wasn't sure if Gogo was a lemonade person or a milk person. She did know that she was a warm sake person, that's for sure. The teen had her head propped up with one arm, her elbow on the counter.

"Anything on your mind, Gogo?"

"How the fuck can you stand being up this early?"

O-Ren checked the clock on the wall next to the counter, it reading 9:42 a.m. O-Ren had forgotten the reason why humans required less sleep as they got old. She could have sworn it was about the metabolism, but couldn't be sure. She was 29 years old and yet she kept awaking at 4:23 a.m. Surely enough, she knew that she wasn't old enough to need four or five hours of sleep.

They were waiting on Sofie to arrive. Normally, Sofie would have been there at 9 a.m., 9:30 at latest, depending on traffic from her place to the building. But, the day before, they had gone to meet Bill at one of the small villages outside Tokyo, which was before he got caught up in a fight that delayed their meeting. When they got back to Tokyo that evening, O-Ren noticed that Sofie didn't appear to be very well.

"Are you okay, Sofie?" O-Ren asked.

"I'm okay," she replied, "I probably ate something that disagreed with me."

O-Ren came back from the thought when she heard the phone ringing. She walked over to it, finishing up the glass of milk before she got to it.

"Yes?" she spoke into the phone.

"Ms. Fatale is here to see you."

"Send her up."

O-Ren hung up the phone, a bit relieved. She was beginning to think that something bad had happened to Sofie. Before she knew it, there was a knock on the door and Sofie entered the study.

"I apologize for being late," she spoke.

O-Ren noticed the discomfort look on Sofie's face, it seeming like the look one would have from sort of internal pain. Sofie had provided a set of coughs, which resulted in her breathing to sound a bit wheezy.

"Sofie, are you alright?"

"I just feel a bit weird in my chest."

Gogo quickly slipped off the stool, taking a few steps back and away from Sofie.

"If she's sick, I don't want it," Gogo spoke.

"I'm not..." Sofie stopped mid sentence, her words sounding like she were gurgling on water. She let out a hard cough, hoping to fix it, "I'm not sick. I'm just not feeling well."

"You don't sound good, Sofie. Gogo, get the car ready."

Gogo complied, hurrying out of the room and around Sofie. Gogo always tried to keep herself fit and healthy, so she could be there to protect O-Ren. And in doing so, she would avoid anyone who showed some kind of symptom of illness. O-Ren, however, could have cared less at that moment about her own health, more concerned about Sofie as she moved around the bar. She moved Sofie over to the bar, placing her on the stool that Gogo sat on. Sofie was breathing normally, but her breathing was still sounding wheezy.

"I guess it wasn't something you ate after all," O-Ren spoke in English.

"I'm sorry about this. I know you had plans for today."

She did have plans that day. She was going to meet several new recruits to the Crazy 88 army, welcoming them into the family like a mother welcoming children home. It was her way of being a mother figure. But she could easily do that the next day or later that week. She'd just have to contact Johnny Mo and inform him of the unexpected setback.

"Don't worry about it, Sofie. We're taking you to a doctor, so you can get checked on and get back on your feet in no time at all."

Sofie began to go into a coughing fit, it appearing to be hard and deep coughs. She closed her mouth rather quickly, looking around for something. O-Ren looked around, thinking she knew what it was that Sofie needed. She picked up the glass of mil that she slid in front of Gogo a few moments before, handing it to Sofie. And she was right. Sofie spit out what appeared to be a large wad of flim into the milk. O-Ren headed around the bar and dumped it out in the sink, washed out the cup and then filled it with water for Sofie to drink. She wasn't sure why she was so caring when it came to Sofie. Maybe it was some sort of instinct that she couldn't identify or one she didn't want to name. She couldn't give it THAT sort of name, seeing that she never was what she came close to being. Or maybe it was the fact that Sofie was her friend and had been there for her when she needed her. The phone on the wall rang, O-Ren quickly answering it.

"The car is ready," she heard Gogo's voice on the other end.

Before escorting Sofie downstairs to the car, O-Ren picked up her leopard print coat and her sword from her bedroom. Just because she was tending to a sick friend didn't mean she wasn't going out without a weapon. At that point in time, many of the yakuza clan leaders didn't want her to succeed in her quest, especially those who believed that a man should be the leader, a belief that had long since been established back before she was born (probably further back than that, before they were ever born). But like a woman's right to vote and have equal shares at work in the U.S., times would have to change to live up to the modern world. But the change would have to wait for a short while, at least until Sofie's health was attended to.

The private doctor that O-Ren normally used was out of town for a few weeks. So, seeing that he was on a vacation, O-Ren took her friend to Tokyo General Hospital. She was somewhat glad, not for the fact that she wasn't dealing with a job related injury like a gunshot wound, but the fact that there weren't many people in the waiting area in the Emergency Room. She wasn't sure if that was the right place in the hospital to take Sofie, but where else could she have taken her? Gogo told O-Ren she was going to the cafeteria, again, probably avoiding people who may be sick. O-Ren stayed with Sofie, filling out Sofie's paperwork and, in the process, realizing she knew very little about Sofie's medical past, except for the mental health area for the past four years.

The nurse finally came to take Sofie to a room, but Sofie didn't want to be alone. O-Ren agreed to stay with her. With the florescent lighting in the place, O-Ren thought it made everything and everyone look sick. It really didn't have the ray of hopeful health that the Emergency Room at Mercy Hospital had. But then again, Tokyo General and Mercy Hospital were miles apart, in separate countries. O-Ren stuck to Sofie's side as they walked down the hall, past what appeared to be several examination rooms, for what may appear to be used for when a patient in major need of medical assistance and quickly would be wheeled in.

The nurse escorted them into a patient room. It appeared almost dark and gloomy, even with the lights. The nurse had ushered them in before heading off for some other duties. O-Ren understood the feeling that Sofie had, about not wanting to be there alone. Just being there must have calmed Sofie down a bit. Sofie coughed a bit, her breathing sounding wheezy again. O-Ren hoped that whatever it was that Sofie had wasn't something serious. At that moment, a young woman entered into the room, wearing a white coat. She seemed young to be a doctor.

"Hello," she spoke, "I am Nurse Giga. I will be assisting the doctor who will be examining Ms. Fatale."

Seeing that they were going to be waiting for the doctor, Nurse Giga helped Sofie change into a patient gown. O-Ren had sat her sword down on the bed, neatly folding the articles of clothing as Sofie removed them and placing them in a nice stack on the bed. Caring and concern for another person was the only thing that didn't die within the past four years. She was often glad that it didn't, or she would have been nothing more than a lifeless corpse that didn't catch onto the fact that she was dead. Living without emotions was a continuous and lifeless life. She suppressed emotions, yes, only when she needed to. But sometimes they still overwhelmed her when she least expected them to. She may have been a killer, but she was still a human being.

"Good morning, Ms. Fatale," O-Ren heard the voice of the doctor, causing her to stop mid-fold.

Memories began to resurface rather quickly, from the first time they met to the sinking feeling she had when he left. It took all of the will she had to make herself look up, finally making eye contact with the doctor.

Greg appeared almost as he had when she last saw him, with the exception of a five o'clock shadow slowly forming. He was staring at her with cool eyes, the kind anyone would have if they saw a familiar person they hated. But O-Ren knew him. She remembered how kind he was. He wouldn't keep a grudge for a week, let alone four years. Greg turned his attention to Sofie, his eyes showing a little bit of warmth and a smile forming. Nurse Giga helped Sofie back onto the bed as he pulled a pen out of the breast pocket of his doctor's coat.

"Ms. Fatale, I'm Dr. Lowndes. How are you feeling?"

"Not very well, doctor," she replied before she followed with a set of wet coughs.

Greg had his stethoscope hanging from around the back of his neck, which he proceeded to take down and place on the bed next to Sofie. O-Ren felt as if she were in a daze, missing out on the discussion that Greg and Sofie were having. She paid attention to his hands as he wrote something down on a clipboard. She had waited so long to see Greg again. Her heart was telling her to go to him, to meet his lips with hers. She, however, held back. Her mind was telling her it wasn't the best time. She was there for Sofie, not for Greg. O-Ren noticed Sofie looking at her. O-Ren knew that Sofie knew that the doctor who was about to treat her was the one that O-Ren had told her about.

"Miss," Greg said, looking over at O-Ren, "I have to ask you to leave."

"Doctor," Sofie interrupted, "I would like her to stay. I really don't feel comfortable here by myself and her being here is helpful."

Greg looked at Sofie for a moment and then nodded. Greg picked up the stethoscope and moved around to where he was behind her. He placed the plugs into his ears, placing the head of it against her back. O-Ren watched Greg as her asked her to inhale a few times. After a moment, he moved around to front of Sofie, asking her to lower her gown's top. He placed the head against her chest, right above the center between her breasts. O-Ren knew that Sofie's measurements were 34-25-37, something that any perverted male would be interested to know. But not Greg at that moment. Greg always focused on trying to solve the problem the patient may be having, particularly when it came to dealing with women patients. O-Ren recalled one time when she panicked, thinking that she may have felt a lump in her breast. She got Greg to do an examination to either confirm or deny her fears of having breast cancer in the bathroom of their apartment. She noticed some sort of stillness in his eyes as he felt her right breast, having to see it in the reflection of the mirror they were both in front of. He had been standing very close to notice if he became excited, but there was no response from him. She had asked him about it a week later.

"My focus is always on the task. I have to close my mind off on such details and think about the task. For me, some of the time, I look at the patient as a person, at others, I see a jigsaw puzzle that needs to be solved. Besides, thinking about sex is distracting while at work, much like work being a distraction during sex. Plus, I think the female patients would get the wrong idea if I had a hard on during an examination."

Sofie began coughing hard after inhaling deeply. Greg took a step back, giving her some room. She closed her mouth, much like before. Greg motioned for Nurse Giga to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the counter. She did so, passing them off to him, who in turn passed them to Sofie. She spit out a wad of flim the size of a half-dollar coin and folded it up. Greg held out his hand so that he could pass it to Nurse Giga.

"You can go ahead and put the gown back up, Ms. Fatale."

She did so after passing the napkins back to him.

"We're going to have to do a couple of more tests to find out what's wrong, that includes blood samples. But before we do any of those, we're going to take you to get an X-Ray of your chest. Whatever it is, it sounds like it's in that area."

"Should I be worried?" Sofie asked as she threaded her arms through the sleeves."

"Not at all. I'm sure whatever it is, its nothing major."

Nurse Giga stepped out of the room, coming back with a wheelchair. They made their way down the hall, heading towards X-Ray. Greg took over for Nurse Giga in pushing the wheelchair, so that she could help out with a patient who was refusing to stay in bed. O-Ren walked a few steps behind Greg, keeping her eyes locked onto him. There wasn't going to be any way she was going to lose track of him again, or at least she hoped. They stepped up to the door just as a rather beautiful young woman stepped out, carrying an X-Ray.

"Greg, I'm glad you're here," she said, "Can I ask you to have a look at this?"

"Sure, Kiia," Greg replied, "I'll have to look at it while I'm waiting for Ms. Fatale's X-Rays to be done."

"Who?" Kiia asked.

"Ms. Sofie Fatale, here." Greg motioned towards Sofie as she sat in the wheel chair.

"Oh, my apologies, Ms. Fatale."

Kiia had bowed a couple of times in a gesture of respect.

"It's not a problem," Sofie replied.

O-Ren made eye contact for a moment with Kiia as she turned to walk off. She noticed the warm smile that Kiia gave towards her, indicating that Greg had not told anyone of their relationship. It was another link in the long chain of questions she wanted to ask. Greg turned around to look at O-Ren over his shoulder.

"There's not enough room inside for four people. I have to ask you to stay out here until we're through."

"Okay," was the only thing that O-Ren could say.

Greg knocked on the door, a technician inside opening it for them. Greg and Sofie disappeared inside, the door closing by the unseen tech person. O-Ren closed her eyes as she moved over to the wall next to the door, trying to remoisten them from being open for so long. She wanted to be alone with Greg so she could reconnect with him, to love him like she had before. But it appeared that he hadn't forgiven her for what she had done. Maybe if Greg had been a cold-blooded killer like her, he would have understood why she did it. But he wasn't. He was a doctor, one who helped healed the wounded and the ill, sometimes bringing those on the brink of death back to the land of the living. She placed her back against the wall as she recalled one time when they were alone. She found out a bit about Greg's family long before she met them. They had been bathing together, one of the things that they often did during times when they were both off from work.

"My father was a Christian priest back in the 70s. That was until he left."

"Why did he leave? Did he lose his faith?"

"No, O-Ren, nothing like that. He used to tell my mom that whenever he felt that God felt that he was finished preaching, that he had completed the work that God wanted him to perform, that he would quit. And he eventually did. As a result, he now restores old style weaponry. He takes old guns and repairs them, sometimes restoring them back into mint condition. He's even done a few museum pieces, like for the Smithsonian. My mother owns a hair saloon. She used to cut hair, but now she just runs it. In fact, she met my father at the saloon. How funny is that?"

"What about your brother...? What was his name again? Luke?"

"No, hon, Lucas. You were close. He runs a hard to find video store called 'Rolling Thunder Video', named after his favorite movie."

"Well, if the store is hard to find, then why doesn't he relocate it?"

Greg laughed for a minute before finding enough breath to explain.

"The videos he rents and sales are hard to find prints, not the store."

O-Ren had felt a little sheepish about the error she made.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. People always make that mistake. And he's very good at his job. He loves movies a lot. He's got both the rated and unrated copies of "The Street Fighter". He really likes the old exploitation movies and some genre movies. He wanted to be a film director, he still does as far as I know. He even told me this story idea he wanted to do as his first film. The plot involved six guys in a warehouse after a diamond heist gone wrong and one of them being a cop. When I heard the idea, I was like, 'Lucas, who's going to watch a film that's been done in some many ways before, even with the scene where one of the criminal's cuts off the ear of a cop to some one hit wonder song from the 70s?" Don't get me wrong, he's had some good ideas once in a while, but who would watch a retro film?"

"There's nothing wrong with them. Just as long as they're good."

O-Ren retrieved her Kandy Purple Pearl colored cell phone from the pocket of her leopard coat, using a couple of keys to speed dials Johnny Mo's cell phone. She got his voice mail, leaving him a message. She didn't feel uncomfortable there in the ER, but it did bring back a memory that she didn't want, about another area pertaining to the medical field, a private office. At the time, Greg was pulling a 24 hour shift. She had gotten up at 3 a.m., gotten there by 4 a.m. She would have gone to Bill to get him to set up an appointment with a doctor that he trusted, but she didn't want anyone, not Bill, not Greg, not even any of the other Vipers, to know about what she was going to do. At that time anyway, Bill was still mourning BEEP's "death". She had no idea why she was thinking about that particular event. Maybe it was the lighting or the setting, or the clean, sanitized smell. Or maybe it was the fact her feelings for Greg still remained as strong as they had been four years ago.

It didn't take long for them to perform the X-rays that were required. While O-Ren waited with Sofie in the room, Greg had attended to Dr. Shibata and other duties while Nurse Giga drew blood samples from Sofie to test. It felt like hours passing by, though it wasn't very long. Eventually, Greg returned, keeping his attention on Sofie. He had the X-rays, sliding them into the viewer that hung on the wall near the bed. He switched on the light, allowing Sofie and O-Ren to see them. On the X-ray, the bottom portion of both lungs had what appeared to be whiteness.

"Ms. Fatale, we've figured out what's wrong. You have pneumonia. What you see here, at the bottom of your lungs, is the flim that you are coughing up. You're in luck that this isn't really a severe case. We've got at it in the early stages."

"How long will it take until I am well again, doctor?" Sofie asked.

"Well, by going on medication right now, you can nearly be well in a week. You'd still have a little bit of flim left to cough up, but you'll be back to fully operational in life. However, I have something I want you to think about. Even though you'll have to spend a week in bed, you can either receive your treatment here at the hospital or you can treat yourself at home where you can sleep in your own bed. Most often go for home, however we won't be able to keep track wit how much liquid is left in your lungs. That means that after a week, you'll have to come in for a follow-up examination. Either way is a choice you'll have to make."

O-Ren took Sofie's hand into hers, a friendly reminder that she was still there for her, no matter which choice Sofie made.

"I'll take the risk of taking my medication at home, doctor."

Greg nodded.

"Okay. Go ahead and get ready. Nurse Giga will be back with some papers for you to sign and a prescription for some medication. Remember to read the labels for instructions. Also, drink lots of liquids, nonalcoholic preferably, like water or Gatorade. The more flim you cough up, the more that's out of your system. So, remember, if you have the need to cough, do it. Just have a trash can near by to spit flim in, okay?"

Greg wrote something down on the chart before removing the X-rays from the viewer. O-Ren knew he was about to exit, turning to Sofie for a moment.

"I'll be right back," she said, "I'd like to speak with him."

Sofie nodded. O-Ren picked up her sword and followed after him. She noticed him taking much bigger steps in stride, almost as if he were trying to escape someone. They had gotten out into the hall.

"Greg!" O-Ren called out.

He came to a stop in his tracks. It took a moment for him to turn and look at her. She noticed the cold stare again, the coldness sharper than any samurai sword, even a Hattori Hanzo sword. She was sure that it would eventually fade after a while of getting back together, that it was some sort of defense mechanism that he developed within the time they were apart. She had hoped he would forgive her. He quoted a scholar one time when it came to her asking about enemies he may have had: "A doctor doesn't see good or bad, just well and unwell." That was what gave her hope. She took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them a bit. She didn't want to rush. There was no need for it. They had all the time in the world, or at least she hoped. She also didn't want to startle him. Closer, yet still distant.

"Can we talk?" O-Ren asked, "In private?"

She noticed Greg biting his lower lip lightly. He didn't say a word, just waved sharply to follow him. And she did, following three steps behind him. She noticed the slight stiffness in his walk and how he seemed to be slouching forward. It was often the stance and walk of someone who was in anger and it was a common one. That had to be the first time O-Ren had seen Greg do it. But that wasn't her concern.

He led her to what appeared to be a conference room. It was a tad bit bigger than the patient room that she had been in with Sofie and looked like one that would most likely be found in an office building. She concluded rather quickly that was where a lot of the business side of the medical field had their meetings. And how fitting it was. She was there on business. Personal business, now. And their meeting was going to begin. She had various thoughts floating in and out of her mind. A few were of the sexual kind, like throwing Greg onto the table, ripping his pants off and hardcore fucking pursuing to make up for the lack of time they've had, her having his way with him or vise-versa. But those thoughts were meaningless. She wasn't there for the body. What she yearned for was something else.

O-Ren placed the sword on the table, turning around to see Greg closing the door behind him. Again, there was a small distance between them.

"What do you want, O-Ren?" he asked her, his voice low and icy, just like the look in his eyes.

O-Ren didn't care about the look as she slowly stepped towards him. Though the coldness of hate was in his eyes, she was sure the warmth of love was in hers. She had long since forgotten the taste of his lips, but the memory came back as they made contact. She tried to wrap her arms around him, wanting to hold him, but she felt her wrists being held and tightly to the point of pain. She kept kissing him, hungry for him to return. But he did not return it, his lips completely still.

Please, Greg, she thought, Open up to me again. Return to me, return to my life, my side, where I want you... Where I need you. Please.

Without warning, she felt her lips being ripped free from Greg's. She let out a small yelp of being startled, feeling the table as it slammed hard into the back of her thighs. She managed to catch herself from falling back onto the table. She was confused for a moment, not sure what had happened. Greg pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, harshly wiping at his mouth as if trying to erase the feeling of her lips off his. Though the confusion was temporary, she realized what had happened, just as he closed the door behind himself as he exited the room: He pushed her away.

The familiar sinking feel had returned, this time being stronger than it had before. She tried to keep the tears back, to keep a solid composure at least until she could find somewhere to be completely alone without someone most likely to notice her. She took deep breaths as she left the conference room with her sword in hand. The hurt she felt had cut deep down into her very being. It was so deep that she again once felt a phantom pain in her stomach. She managed to make it outside. O-Ren finally began to lose control and had to let go, when she got to the ambulance parking area, no longer able to hold back.

How can he still hate me? After all this time, he still hates me?

If there was one thing she didn't get about men was their reaction towards some of the wrong things women do. But what O-Ren did wasn't taking drugs or cheating on Greg. The crime she committed was far worse, and she knew that there was no apology for it. And Greg, be it from the religion he was familiar with or from his own morality or moral code, had not forgotten. Nor did he forgive O-Ren for what she did to both of them. But then again, how could any man?

She had finally let the pain out, purging herself of it. She didn't want Sofie or Gogo to know she had been crying. She pulled out a napkin that she remembered placing into her pocket from the Big Kahuna she stopped at on the way back to Tokyo, drying her eyes and blowing her nose with it. She straightened herself up, not wanting to show any sign that a single tear had come free from her eyes. She discarded the paper napkin as she headed through the waiting area.

"Excuse me. Where can I find the cafeteria?"

Gogo wasn't there, O-Ren coming to an assumption on what the unstable teenager was doing. As O-Ren came close to passing the restrooms outside the exit of the cafeteria, her ears caught the sound of a familiar voice.

"Harder! Harder, you fucking pipsqueak!"

She looked at the door that it came from, it being the women's restroom. O-Ren entered, being bombarded with the familiar orders of sweat and juices that flowed during sex. There was the light sound of panting, one a mid-tone and one that was an alto. O-Ren followed the sound of the flesh making contact with flesh to the last stall. She noticed the door was slightly cracked, the bolt not having to have been secure. O-Ren pushed the door open until it met the wall behind it. And appearing much like a couple of deer in a set of car headlights was a couple. One was a young man, no later than his mid-20s, dressed in O.R. scrubs, his pants and underwear down at his ankles. He was between Gogo's legs, with her back against the wall. She was holding herself up with the handicap assistance railing, her underwear on her head. O-Ren only smirked.

"Gogo, when you're finished, Sofie and I will be waiting on you in the waiting area of the E.R."

O-Ren looked over at the young man, who appeared both embarrassed and confused.

"I hope you remembered to use a condom."

The young man, with the surprised look in his eyes, nodded lightly.

"Good," O-Ren replied, closing the door to the stall.

Just before O-Ren exited, she heard Gogo commanding.

"Get back to work, big dick!"

As O-Ren headed back to the E.R., Greg's rejection of her still lingered on her mind. She realized that he had plenty of time to stew about the past when he was in X-ray with Sofie. His plan had to have been to avoid her, which would explain his rather quick departure from the examination room. She knew that a part of him still had to care about her. Just because he hated her, didn't mean that she couldn't try to get him back, to make him love her once again. Yes, he rejected her that time, but it didn't mean he could hold up that hatred for long. That day was nothing more than a bump in the road.

------------------
The Next Day.
------------------

She waited inside her BMW SUV, parked on top of the hill that sloped down towards the entrance of the E.R. O-Ren got a head start that morning after waking up at 4:23, as usual. She left a note for the house keeper, in case Gogo came by. Worst possible scenario was that Gogo would call Sofie and Sofie would get a lo-jack trace done on the SUV to find out where it was, not that any of that mattered. However, she knew that there was very little time on her side. But it was time she was going to use to herself. It had been a while since she had a real break from her conquest to take over the Tokyo Underworld. It was one that she believed she needed. She needed time to square away the problem with Greg. And just pushing her away wasn't going to be enough. She's fought through many of tough enemies, coming within an inch of her life, and lived to tell about it. The situation with Greg wasn't going to be a tough obstacle.

She had called the number for the hospital and the operator transferred the call to the E.R. She gave the desk attendant a small story about being a friend of Greg and wanting to make sure she was correct on the time he would be leaving the E.R. 8 o'clock in the morning was the time given, seeing that he had just pulled a 24 hour shift. She wondered how many times he had pulled 24 hour shifts at the hospital and how long had he been in Tokyo without her knowing. Seeing that she had gotten caught up with her goal to take charge, she didn't even think to keep an eye open in Tokyo for Greg.

And seven minutes after 8, Greg exited out of the entrance to the E.R., heading along the side until reaching the street. O-Ren followed, keeping the BMW at a distance so that it would go unnoticed. As he moved through the street, O-Ren noticed that he made two stops. The first was at a fruit vender, buying an apple. The second had been at a newsstand, where he bought a copy of the Japanese print of Playboy magazine. The funnies thought came to O-Ren's mind, wasn't about the Playboy magazine, but the apple. She wondered how many times during his week he bought an apple. If it had been daily, then it would have negated the old saying that everyone knew about doctors and apples. That made me chuckle a bit. As for the porno magazine, she knew Greg actually read them for the articles. For any other guy, it had just been an excuse to have them there. However, for Greg, it was a fact. She had come home one day after visiting with Bill. She found Greg sitting at the table near the kitchen, eating toast and reading an article on the late John Holmes, notorious porn king. The article had been about the star's downfall, due to drugs and his porn appearances. That had been the first porn magazine she had even seen Greg read.

"After I'm done with reading the articles, I throw the magazine away."

After that, she took claim of the magazines after he was done with reading the articles. He was too sensible to have a collection hidden. She knew one thing about some women, particularly herself, was that they like porn like their male counterparts. The only thing they hated about it was when men hid them. O-Ren still bought a couple of porno magazines for herself throughout the time that Greg wasn't there. Though she didn't mind Playboy, she was more into Penthouse magazine herself. She even thought about how interesting it would be for her to pose for such a magazine one time. But then again, why would she want such publicity anyway? How would such a magazine describe her on their cover? "O-Ren Ishii, Queen of the Tokyo Underworld - Uncensored"? "O-Ren Ishii, puts the ASS in assassin"? Or "O-Ren Ishii, Samurai Nude"?

She had sat across the street as she watched Greg waiting for the bus. He had stuffed the magazine into his bag and held the apple in his mouth as he did so. She thought about pulling up and offering a ride, but it was too soon to make herself known. He would most likely disbelieve that she was just in the neighborhood and refuse because it was her behind the wheel. If there was one thing she learned from being an assassin, it was to wait for the right time to strike. If that was one thing she remembered Bill telling her, that was it. Timing was important, catching them when they least expected it. Like bumping into them in a subway, or choking them while they're using the bathroom, or when they are laughing their asses off in the back of a moving limo from over 300 yards. It was that knowledge that she was using that would somewhat help. The bus had finally arrived and she continued to follow Greg after he boarded.

She watched as he had entered the apartment building at the corner of Woo Avenue and Chiba Road towards the end of the Shinjuku district, no more than two miles from Kabukichou, Tokyo's nightlife and red-light district. Of course, two miles is a long ways for any normal person. The area that the apartment building was where most of department stores were. The owner may have selected it to catch a few college students or store workers for tenants. It was perfectly located, no more than four miles travel to any of the colleges near by for the students. Not even more than three for people who worked at some of the hi-tech stores that lined the streets of the Shinjuku. And any of them that liked to get out once and a while would most likely be able to go to Kabukichou. O-Ren was familiar with that place, seeing that is where she met a few of her platonic partners. But what confused her was why Greg had decided to live here. Why take the trip from here to Tokyo General Hospital? The closest hospital, from what she remembered about that area, had to have been the International Catholic Hospital. It had to be the only apartment building in the area, seeing that most of the other accommodating living areas were hotels in the same area. She began to get out of the SUV, deciding to leave the sword in the vehicle. It was not like she needed it. Greg knew a few gun tricks, but didn't own a gun. Besides, he couldn't have acquired one here if he wanted to, unless he was a criminal, which he wasn't. As she got closer to the entrance, she noticed the name, "Hitoribocchi Hatsu Danchi". The building had its simple design, it being a lot cleaner and nicer than their previous place she noted.

The lobby area was rather small, so small that they may have just called it a room instead of a lobby. The walls were a dark lime green color. The elevator was to her right as she entered, the stairwell not too far ahead. She wasn't sure if Greg had taken the stairs of the elevator. Even still, she didn't know what floor or apartment that Greg resided in.

"Can I help you, Miss?" she heard.

She looked over to her left, finding a woman in her 60s behind a counter, a bunch of mailboxes for the apartments behind her. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. She wore a red kimono. O-Ren naturally assumed that she was the landlord. As O-Ren got closer to the desk, she noticed a lot more details about the woman, like the scar, so small and unnoticeable, on her throat. O-Ren heard a lot about assassins who had retired the business to assume and lead normal lives. Other than Asimi Yubari and Vernita Green, she didn't really know of anyone else before the most recent years. And then she wondered if this old woman in front of her had once been on the job.

"Yes," O-Ren began, "I'm an old friend of Dr. Lowndes."

"Really?" the woman replied, apparently confused, "I wasn't aware that he had any friends."

"I assure you, Greg and I are acquainted. He gave me the address here, but failed to tell me which apartment he was in."

"Give me a second," as she said, donning a pair of reading glasses, "I often forget who is where."

O-Ren waited as the old woman picked up a clipboard and began to scan it.

"You know," the old woman began to say as she looked at the list, "I find it hard to believe that a woman like you can be just a friend. I can tell you still love him."

O-Ren had been caught off guard by the comment.

"How did you know that?" O-Ren asked.

The woman looked up at her over the frames of the glasses.

"It's in your eyes, dear. Let me tell you something. Dr. Lowndes has been alone since he moved in here four years ago. He's never had anyone up to his apartment, not even a single woman. He also had any a woman in quite some time."

"How can you be sure?"

"I've seen my fair share of men who have been fucking for the pleasure of it, be it with a girl they've picked up at a bar or some prostitute from down the road. They have a certain body language when it comes to post sexual contact. Not only that, they would smell of sex. Dr. Lowndes hasn't had any kind of change in step or smell since he started living here. Except maybe that clean smell he always has on him from when he comes back from work. He's a good man, but he never seems happy. No man can sustain a good life without love. Greg Lowndes is a good example of it. Why else are there a lot of married people in the world today?"

"Why do you suppose he lives alone?"

The woman looked back down at the chart for a moment, and then removed her glasses. She leaned forward onto the counter, almost as if he is trying to tell a secret.

"Because he's afraid of something. Normally, people fear what it is they don't understand, and that often leads to hatred of something or someone," she replied, "He's in apartment 3G, near the end of the hall on the third floor from the elevator."

O-Ren was slightly confused as she road the elevator up to the top floor. The old woman's words lingered. She didn't understand how fear could invoke anger. And what was Greg afraid of, if there was something to fear? She knew commitment wasn't it. Greg asked her what she thought about marriage a few times in the past. She tried avoiding the question because she herself did not know what to think about it. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be married, at least at that time. Now, she wasn't as sure if she didn't want to be married. She knew that Greg would have more than likely married her, if he hadn't left.

She finally reached the door to the apartment. O-Ren withdrew her lock picking set. It had been a while since she last used it, but it wasn't hard to forget. She got down on one knee, getting the lock into her view. It didn't take long to unlock it. She knew that Greg had locked it behind himself, seeing that was an old habit he had yet to break. The apartment, on the inside, reminded her of any American bachelor's pad, though still a bit Japanese in design. O-Ren noticed a couple of American magazines sitting on a glass coffee table in the living room. She wasn't sure if they were there for reminiscing, to give the place an American feel, or if Greg actually still read them. Either or both wouldn't have been a surprise to her. She pulled her black coat off, draping it over the back of the couch. She pushed up the sleeves of her black shirt up to her elbows, thinking the apartment wasn't even close to the same size as the old one. She could hear water running from another room, a simple sink kind of running. She followed it down a narrow hall to a slightly opened door. She slipped through it.

The room was rather dark. The windows had blinds, trying to block out the light of day to a certain degree. The color of the shades gave off a blue tint that covered the room, looking like the sky minutes after sundown. The sound of water being turned off caught her attention, quickly making her react. She ducked behind the door of the room, pulling it close to the wall to keep her hidden behind it. The room was engulfed briefly with light from the bathroom before Greg switched it off. O-Ren watched as he came into view from her right, where the bathroom may have been. She could see his semi-normal movement as he crawled onto the bed over the covers, not removing a single article of clothing.

She remembered his normal routine after a twenty-four hour shift: First a power nap. Then a shower and anything that needed to be done or wanted to be done following after that. By the old terms, the anything that needed to be done or wanted to be done normally was lovemaking between the two. She remembered what it felt like to be with him, making love. It was almost as if the two of them had merged into one, a connection between souls and hearts. She wanted to feel that way again, particularly with Greg. She slowly moved from behind the door, carefully heading around to his bedside. Greg had his eyes closed, trying to get rest. But rest wasn't going to be a concern for him as far as she cared. She was ready to do this. She quickly judged where she was going to place her hands. Also, she knew one position that no matter how much he trashed about, she would still have him pinned. She kept her eyes on him, just before she struck.

Greg let out a startled cry as he felt the sudden impact of O-Ren on top of him. She had his arms pinned down to the bed, also straddling his pelvis to pin it down too. O-Ren noticed the look in his eyes in the following order: A moment of confusion, a brief second in fear and then a quick return of hatred with those familiar cold eyes.

"What the fuck?!" Greg spoke, grinding his teeth, "How did you get in here? Get the fuck off of me!"

He tried to struggle, but O-Ren was smart. Just because she was small, didn't mean she didn't know how to keep someone down if she wanted to. It wasn't the first time she did it, and it wasn't going to be the last.

"Greg, look at me."

He did, right straight in the eye. She could see the fury burning in his eyes. She only hoped that it would go away as she proceeded to love him. She closed her eyes as she leaned forward to kiss him.

PHAFT! Just within seconds, she felt her nose to her right cheek bone receive a hard blow. The pain was hard, causing the normal reflex to nurse it. Within a second of doing so, she opened her eyes to see a balled fist coming right at her. PHAFT! The hit made contact right on the cheekbone from the previous hit. The force of the hit knocked O-Ren back. Though the mattress had softened the landing, it also propelled her to her left, landing face first on the floor. She was in a momentary daze, watching Greg rub his forehead as he scrambled for the door. O-Ren concluded that the first hit that she got was from a head butt. However, a simple tap and a knock were not going to stop her. She stumbled over her feet as she tried to get up.

She was almost towards the end of the hallway outside the bedroom door when she sensed danger. She ducked in time, hearing the sound of a deep swoop over her head. She turned to see Greg wielding an aluminum baseball bat. As Greg completed the swing, he repositioned himself to swing the bat in the opposite direction rather quickly. O-Ren rolled forward as the bat, now a bit lower to compensate her new position, missed her a second time. O-Ren looked back at Greg, seeing him rearing the bat again, the look of hatred in his eyes burning brighter than the sun.

She struck quickly, delivering a hard kick that sent the bat flying from his hands and bouncing off into the bedroom. She grabbed a hold of his shirt's collar, delivered a hard punch to his face, spun around and threw him over the couch, causing him to land on the glass coffee table. It collapsed under his weight, shattering it into pieces.

It had taken her a second to realize what she did. She had thrown the man she loved across the room with a combat skill. Though she didn't have a choice, it didn't feel right combining the skills of what she was with the person she loved. She rushed over to him, realizing his nose was bleeding and was covering his white dress shirt.

Oh my god, she thought.

"Greg? Sweetie?" she said, kneeling down next to him.

He seemed sort of in a dazed, completely zoned out, stuck in an area between consciousness and unconsciousness. O-Ren couldn't just leave him like that. She had done this to him. Yes, he tried to attack her with a baseball bat, but she didn't mean to do this to him. She got her arms around him, pulling him off the broken table. She began to drag him into the kitchen, luckily discovering the dinner table with a set of four chairs. She pulled one out, carefully pulling him into a sitting position. The blood was still pouring, but not as much as it had when it began. She moved over to the sink, checking drawers until she found some dish rags. She checked the icebox, retrieving a tray of frozen cubes. She knew that when Greg snapped out of it, his nose would most likely be hurting worse than any other part of his body. Before she could wiggle the cubes free... BONG! She felt the hard blow to the left side of her head.

Her entire mind was numb for a moment. It didn't take long for the feeling to come back, the left side thumping in pain, as if someone were trying to drill a hole in her head. She realized she was on the floor, lying on her right side. She heard the sound first before seeing it, a frying pan. She looked up to see Greg standing tall, his mouth covered in blood. He had slipped back into reality with her back turned. He took a few steps back, plopping back down into the chair that O-Ren sat him in. O-Ren cradled her head as she pulled her legs up underneath herself, until she was able to pull herself into a sitting position on her legs.

She looked into his eyes from across the kitchen. His eyes remained cold, no sign of friendly reorganization. The man she fell in love with was not the same man sitting there. It was almost looking into the eyes of a stranger. Greg, having to been mad at her in the past four years, had not forgiven her. There was nothing but silence in between them.

The sound of the front door flying open caused O-Ren to jump. Greg didn't even flinch. Gogo found them, quickly tending to their downed leader, while two other members of the Crazy 88 with swords drawn, had their blades pointed at Greg.

"Don't hurt him!" O-Ren commanded.

Both of the members took a step back from him, as Gogo helped O-Ren up.

"Get out," Greg said in Japanese.

O-Ren locked eyes with him once again. She noticed them becoming narrow as he spoke, as if Greg was Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde had begun to take over. This look in his eyes pained her, even more than the slight headache she had.

"Get out," Greg repeated, "Get out and stay out. You are not welcome here. You never will be welcomed."

Though Gogo may have interpreted it as him telling them to leave, O-Ren knew it meant more than that. He might as well have said, "Get out of my life. You are not welcome into my life. You never will be welcomed in my life." And that had pierced deep into her heart.

----------------

Gogo was behind the wheel as O-Ren sat in the passenger seat. She sat with her arm propped up on the door, her hand to her face. She was deep in though, trying to analyze the situation with Greg. Even though she did have a slight headache from the frying pan, it still didn't distract her enough to think. The only thing that he could have hated her about was what she had done. She wondered how it was he found the bottle of antibiotics, that being the only thing that gave away what she did. He's a doctor; he had to know about the types of antibiotics.

I'm not giving up, she thought, I'm not. I haven't lost any of my battles in my life and I have always received the prize I had fought for. I WILL win Tokyo. And I most definitely WILL win Greg back. Or I will get the answers to the questions I had so long since wanted to resolve. But how?

It took a couple of seconds later that she realized the answer. She needed something to help clear the air between the two of them. And the only person she knew that had such a something was Bill. She remembered a meeting they had sometime the year before, Bill showing her a concoction he created. She thought it ma have been useful in her goal of dominating the Tokyo underworld. But it would most likely help resolve the issues with Greg. She would get the answers she sought after. Now, she had a secondary goal. But that would have to wait.

(To be continued...)