A/N: Now before I bore you with all my 'wasn't that an awful chapter' and whatever, I want you to know that there are two songs that you MUST listen to when reading this chapter (Woah, I'm so pushy D:). But they are beautiful songs: Life is Beautiful (acoustic) by Sixx: A.M. and Said it All by Take That.

Wow, I seem to be really pumping out these chapters :D *i just get onto word and it kinda just writes itself ;3* -Hugs my muse and gives her a chocolate bar and something to drink for her efforts XD- I wonder how long I'll be able to keep up this writing streak...*hopes it's semi-permanent XD*

In this chapter, it delves right into the darkest parts of Gokudera's depression (which will continue in the next chapter) and how only Yamamoto can drag him out of it. There will be a cliff hanger, but don't worry, there will be a lot explained in the next chapter ;D oh and yeah, there'll be a lot of angst in the next two chapters, so please, try not to strangle either of them if you could. They're both confused and have a right to be, so please give them a bit of time. =)

Chapter Four – Handle with Care

"When the tears fall away
And there´s no conversation
there´s nothing left to break
that´s not already broken
you´re staring into space
And every inch of silence
Been standing here for days, and days
-Said It All – Take That

Said it all
Nothing to say at all
Nothing to say that matters
haven´t we heard enough?"

Whatever Yamamoto had been expecting, it most certainly had not been this.

The building looked about ready to fall down, and it wasn't as though it was located anywhere populated. They'd had to drive for a good hour and a half out of Tokyo to find this place right on the outskirts. It looked like an old dojo, but a modern one. It didn't hold any of the traditional features and aesthetics which most dojos did. Instead, it just appeared as a crumby four storey block.

This was where they'd taken Gokudera? Holy shit...it made Yamamoto's skin crawl just by thinking about what it must be like having to live here.

"And you said this guy was a genius? Those were your exact words," Yamamoto said incredulously to Reborn.

"As always, you don't think ahead Yamamoto," Reborn sighed, "If Mukuro had bought up an enormous, grand building somewhere in the centre of Tokyo, don't you think that it just might attract the wrong kind of attention?"

This time Yamamoto wasn't the only one to blush sheepishly. He noticed Tsuna's cheeks darken a little as well, and wondered if the shorter boy had been wondering the same thing.

Reborn wasn't one to dwell though and before any of them could get into the building, especially Hibari whose tonfa's were already drawn, spoke to Tsuna, "So Tsuna, what do we do?"

He made his usual 'eh?' like he hadn't had Reborn throw all the responsibility onto his shoulders before.

"Uh...well," he voice hitched as he looked at each of his Guardian's worriedly. All they could do was shrug and offer him sheepish grins, except Hibari who fixed him with a predatory glare.

Reborn stamped on his foot; voice sharp, "The more you flail around like your good-for-nothing self, the worse the condition Gokudera will be in when we find him. Get your act together already and be a boss to your Guardians."

However strange and sometimes violent Reborn's methods were, they certainly put Tsuna back on track when it mattered.

He stood squarely in front of each of his Guardians, expression calm and controlled, eyes calculating in a very non-Tsuna way.

"Ryohei," He looked at the boxer, "You'll act as the defence."

Ryohei frowned, eyes begging for a reason why, "But I work better in attack. I'm more extreme in my fighting."

Hibari chuckled, a rare phenomenon, "You're just an herbivore."

Ryohei fixed him with a glare, "What'd you say Kyoya?"

Hibari glared at the boy, "Don't say my name so lightly, or I'll bite you to death."

"Stop it."

Tsuna looked up to Yamamoto's eyes that stared at the ground. His fists were clenched, shoulders taught, "Would you both stop bickering for once in your life and just listen to Tsuna? It can't damage your pride that much surely?"

His tone had been non-offensive and his voice hadn't risen above a whisper, but the words themselves were daggers in the air.

Hibari refused to flinch, but blinked his admission, "What position am I to be?"

"You'll be the mid-field," Tsuna replied, "I'll be the one to start the immediate fight. I don't want anyone else getting hurt more than me. Except," His face tightened with remorse, "I think Gokudera's pain is out of my league."

"What am I going to do?" Yamamoto asked, apprehensive.

Tsuna looked him directly in the eyes, trying his hardest to appear tough when actually he could barely stop trembling, "You'll go and search for Gokudera. Reborn researched the place earlier and found they have a basement. That's most definitely where they'll be keeping him."

There was no doubt about that, Yamamoto had to admit. Though the building did seem to have five floors, most were crumbling, with a hefty chunk of the right hand side of the building missing. He wondered if Godzilla might have gotten peckish then smacked himself for making such a joke.

"Ready Tsuna?" Reborn asked. His tone said that the topic was closed. Whatever complaints they might have had before were silenced. It wasn't often that the infant assassin pulled authority like that, he would normally leave it to Tsuna, but he was quite capable of putting his foot down when he had a mind to do so.

Tsuna nodded.

"Then let's go," Yamamoto said, smiling at his very cheesy cliché. He was psyched, especially when he knew his lover was barely a hundred metres away from him.

The five of them all turned towards the building and strode towards it, their expressions all business, eyes a challenge. Yamamoto pulled out his sword, Hibari already had his tonfa's poised, Tsuna tugged on his gloves and Ryohei bandaged his fists.

Prepare yourself Mukuro, coz I'm gonna kick your ass.

Gokudera was jolted out of numb state by a resounding crash from above him. Whatever was going on above him, he was pretty certain it was something big.

But that was as far as his curiosity stretched. Yes, he knew he was being overly depressed, but it really was just the stark reality of his situation. He was a traumatised kid that had lost any reason to keep on breathing. He'd been too stubborn to die, or rather; his body had kept on living even when his heart had all but withered and died. Strange how the human body refused to give up, even when its will to live had burnt out.

Another shudder shook the building's foundations. This time it was strong enough to pick up some dust from the floor. The small particles shimmered in the soft beams of light that fell into the cell from the small grate of a window a good eight feet above him. The light faded though, the sunlight probably overtaken by a cloud. It was interesting, how such a powerful force could be throttled by such a placid thing. It said quite a lot for things in life, especially his. No matter how strong he had thought he might have become, there was always some thundercloud, ready to blot out his sun and plunge him into the night.

This time there was a directional blast to the floor above. Gokudera sensed it had been aimed to the right of him, so where his cell door was, but of course, one floor up. No-one would find him here.

I should be struggling more, battling to escape, the tired boy thought glumly, somebody's causing a ruckus, and there's still a chance it could be Yamamoto. I could be rescued still...

Again that twisted pang in his gut dug into him again, burrowing deeper, making him double over.

Gokudera had never thought someone would be guarding his cell, more because surely they'd go insane with his constant weeping and screaming if he ever fell asleep, but he felt nearly insulted when the door to his prison cell was practically torn off.

Was he really that little of a threat to not need to be guarded? Ouch.

There was tall figure stood where his door had been, but whatever light had been pooling in when that Mukuro guy had been. He might have had less of a presence to that strange, sadistic man, but this person sent a ripple of some strange warm feeling through his icy heart.

Gokudera wished the cell wasn't so dark, or the backlight so dim. Then maybe he would be able to see who this stranger way.

Except when he heard the crisp 'shing' of something sharp and the glint of metal held in the stranger's hand, his heart leapt – Yamamoto.

He opened his mouth to speak his lover's name, but his vocal chords were frozen. All that came out was his breath and that alone was too quiet to grab Yamamoto's attention.

"Shit. This one's empty too. Maybe Reborn was wrong...maybe they kept him on one of the higher floors."

He went to turn away and this time, his body refused broke him away from his solitude. His chained hands chinked, alerting Yamamoto's acute hearing.

He spun around, eyes searching wildly for the source of the noise.

No, Gokudera thought pleadingly, please just go Yamamoto. Please...if you stay and save me...I'll just drag you deeper...go, please!

But of course, the swordsman wasn't a mind reader, but instead an aura sensor. It wasn't much of a skill except that most people could sense things about others, and it was difficult to miss the confused, but very much intimidating aura of Gokudera's.

"Hayato?" The swordsman breathed, his tone daring to sound hopeful but still cautious. It seemed neither of them could afford to be disappointed. Not today, maybe never again, not with how unstable Gokudera knew his mental state was.

Through his muted misery his chained rattled again, and this time Yamamoto grinned, his teeth white amongst all the dark surroundings, "Hayato!" and bounded into the cell.

Of course, the buffoon had to look around everywhere except where Gokudera actually was, but when he did finally lay eyes on his lover, his grin vanished quickly.

"Oh my god...Hayato..." His tone was distraught, holding none of the joy that had momentarily claimed him.

He dropped down to Gokudera's height, taking in his crumpled, dirtied school uniform. The sleeves of his shirt were torn, the front practically shredded. His black trousers were crusted in dust and dried blood.

He wanted to touch his lover hand, but couldn't find it.

Oh my god, they cut off his hands? The thought chilled and infuriated him briefly before he noticed them having above Gokudera's head, limp and covered in dry blood.

With the mere twist of his wrist, his blade cut through the chains soundlessly. The only noise they could hear was their own breathing and the soft clatter of broken metal.

With his hands free, Gokudera let the drop, his fingers twitching as blood rushed into his fingers. He hung his head, a dark scowl on his face, lips tightly closed. He should feel happy, relieved or just plain excited to have been found. But with nowhere to go and no-one to go back to, he couldn't find the will to even look up at his lover. He would be deceived by the open eyes and their honesty. He'd think everything would be alright again, that he'd heal.

Hadn't this entire experience taught him that that hadn't ever been the case?

Whilst Gokudera's mental battle forged onwards, Yamamoto put his sword on the ground, hilt facing Gokudera in a non-threatening way. Lesson number one; always put your sword down so the blade itself isn't facing someone you want to help - with the threatening metal turned towards, they normally saw you as a predator.

Yamamoto swallowed, unsure of whether he really wanted to see Gokudera's face – could he handle the look he may give him? Would he be infuriated that he hadn't found him sooner? Or would he hug him?

All Yamamoto could see was Gokudera's nose and lips, his hair hanging over his eyes. Those lips...had they really been pressed to his barely a day ago? He ached for Gokudera's warm, soft mouth, to feel his mouth being taken by the Italian, but he knew somehow that kissing was the last thing on Gokudera's mind.

Yamamoto tried to drag Gokudera's face up to his to see how much damage had been done but Jesus, he was so cold. How could somehow be so cold and not shiver?

Cupping his jaw and cheeks in his hands as tenderly as he could, Yamamoto took a breath, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the Storm Guardian's cheeks. He relished in the softness of his lovers skin, but could feel imperfections – bruises, cuts and grime layered his lover's perfect skin and when he looked into his eyes, he felt his heart sink into the floor.

Reborn was right – the Rain Guardian was amazed Gokudera was even breathing. His eyes were so dim, so dull and lifeless, they held none of the strength they usually did and instead might as well have been dead.

"Oh Hayato…" He breathed, barely able to contain the urge to hug his lover in a tight embrace.

Gokudera dredged up whatever mental barrier he could, feigning any sense of strength he could. He couldn't bear having his lover see him this torn apart.

Just suck it up, He ordered himself; suck it up until I can be on my own. Then I'll let myself fall apart...

Except he didn't want to. He hated feeling so guilt ridden and dirty, especially in comparison to Yamamoto's purity. He was an ink smudge on an otherwise pearly white canvas.

Yamamoto sensed that underneath the small filmy layer of strength Gokudera was struggling so hard to show him, was a thick, heavier layer of shame and despair. Yamamoto felt himself pulled in, as if he were being sucked into Gokudera's core through his dulled green eyes, dragged into the misery of what had befallen the boy so unjustly. Mesmerized by the face staring up at him, Yamamoto's head sank down in shame, angry at how he hadn't found the Guardian sooner.

It was too confusing; it made his head hurt with how lost he was to it all. The stress was going to tear Gokudera open and make him start sobbing again from the pain and uncertainty. He couldn't face Yamamoto right now; he was already too raw and vulnerable to act strong and unconcerned. He was standing on the edge of darkness and all to ready let it take him. Already he could feel its cold fingers reaching to take him. He was so close, yet here was his light, his reason, ready to pull him back again. Gokudera was shocked at how desperately he wanted to be pulled back again – away from the desperate numbness he had given into to escape from the pain. He wanted to be whole again, but didn't think he could be fixed – he was too broken.

"Hayato," Yamamoto spoke with a strong tone, but it was gentle, coaxing, "Don't lie to me and say you're alright. Don't sit here and feign strength when I know you're going to fall to bits. Please, please, just tell me what Mukuro made you see. Please, Hayato. It's the only way I can save you."

The Italian chuckled darkly, "From who? The list is pretty long."

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed, whispering, "From yourself."

Gokudera looked up into his lover's eyes, so earnest and willing to understand and forgive him for whatever sin's he'd committed it made the Storm Guardian want to cry.

"You know...what Mukuro did?" His voice hitched, breaking somewhere in the middle.

Yamamoto shook his head, "I only know his methods. Whatever he made you see, I don't know. But you have to tell me Hayato."

Gokudera felt his face turn angry, "It's none of your business."

Yamamoto's eyes softened in pain, "You don't need to be strong for me Gokudera. You don't need to pretend. I've known something was wrong for a while. You're 'episode' the other day?" Gokudera's tightening of the eyes was enough of a response for him, "I'm sure that wasn't the worst of it."

Gokudera shook his head once, answering as many questions as he could with it. His hands, stinging with pins and needles, hugged themselves, and before he knew it, his nails were dragging across his bare arms, drawing blood. He clawed ravenously, his eyes filled with despair.

No, that wasn't the worst of it. It was worse, it was hell incarnate. No, he knows, or he's gonna find out – he'll see it in my eyes. You saw through everything. You're gonna hate me. You won't even be able to look at me. You'll leave me – abandon me. Again, I'll be left alone again. Alone in this cruel merciless world.

I'll be thrown away.

The tears rolled down his cheeks and over Yamamoto's hands. Their heat singed his skin, but the tracks were well worn, and Yamamoto knew these weren't the first tears his lover had shed over the matter.

He let his forehead touch Gokudera's speaking as softly as he could, "I want to know Gokudera. I want to ease your pain. I won't be ashamed – I won't hate you. I just want to understand you. I can't if lock me out."

Yamamoto knew Gokudera always had to be strong in front of everyone else, it was expected of him as Tsuna's right hand man, and his character bound him to it.

He trusted his friends – Tsuna, Hibari, Ryohei, Bianchi, Reborn, Fuuta, even Lambo... but some things were just not done or seen. No one had ever seen Gokudera cry.

No one but his bathroom mirror and his bed sheets had ever seen his tears, and no one could, the shame of it threw up the flood gates before the waterworks could begin. Now that he'd grown up with it, he'd begun to think of it either as his fate to remain apathetic his whole, or as a curse, punishment for what he'd allowed to be done to him all those years ago. No matter what, he always had to carry on no matter what kind of torment he was having eat away at him from the inside, always had to stride onwards unabashed and untouched amongst whatever chaos lay in his wake.

It didn't matter how strong Gokudera's heart was. It didn't take much brain power for Yamamoto to understand that it was broken to irreparable pieces. Utter pain and heartbreak beyond expression was all he could feel for his lover, it was almost as strong as his love for his partner. Both battled with each other, but Yamamoto just stayed where he was, the tears trailing down his face and landing on Gokudera's forehead.

Until now, Gokudera hadn't ever been able to grieve with anyone, not even Bianchi, despite her best efforts to ease open her half-brothers tightly sealed heart. He hadn't dared let anyone see him as anything but controlling, powerful and aloof. It was all he could ever do not to fall apart at the smallest thing. He distanced himself from everyone he befriended for their own safety, knowing the luggage he carried was heavier than anyone else's - And far more dangerous. To have Yamamoto crouch here and cry with him, it was more than he could bear. He shouldn't deserve such kindness.

Yamamoto was the one person he could share and seek comfort from, but knowing he had nothing to fall back on if he was rejected; Gokudera was thwarted with fear of abandonment. Bianchi had known, hell, she'd been the one to find him; she had been the one to fight for his life even when hers had been beaten within an inch of it. She had held him in his room that night when he'd cowered from every shadow and whimpered at the slightest sound. But he hadn't cried – he'd been too shocked by his rescue.

Gokudera was always continuously stunned that there were still those who thought he was still saveable – redeemable. They saw his salvation even when he thought it had been stolen away from him for good. They held out a lifeline time and time again.

How could he deserve something so special? Was it fortunes way of blessing him? Or was it another twist in fate's plot to take the world out from under his feet again.

Yamamoto buried his face in Gokudera's hair and gave into his own unforgiveable, but now unstoppable weakness. He was meant to be strong for his partner, not give in to the sadness as well. He didn't even know what he was crying for.

But still he wept with the Italian, his tears spilling silently into Gokudera's cold but soft silver locks as he allowed himself to imagine the torment the boy had had to endure all these years alone.

"I'll show you," He wept through the tears, "But please, don't leave me...please...you just...you can't!" the last part was a savage beg, so filled with fear and shame it brought tears to Yamamoto's eyes, trickling down from the corners of his eyes. The Storm Guardian became so flustered he began to mutter in Italian, in such a way it seemed like he was saying his last prayers.

There was something extremely precious and fragile about seeing this side of Gokudera in the semi-open, away from the ears and eyes of those who would never approve. He was going to be honest with Yamamoto for once, to tell him the full truth and the pride and trust Yamamoto felt and knew was being bestowed upon him made this moment seem all the more precious. Gokudera was definitely a 'suffer in silence' type, and a private kind of guy who held his cards as close to his chest as he could. To be trusted with his heart and everything it held, it made Yamamoto love him all the more and he would see it protected, no matter the cost.

"Hayato...listen to me," Yamamoto begged in response. Gokudera stopped muttering, but trembled with apprehension.

"I promise Hayato. I'm yours," He murmured, knowing Gokudera needed the consolation, no matter how times he had heard it, "Whatever you are, I am too. I'll carry the burden, share it, but I'll always love you. Nothing can change it, whatever you think."

Gokudera gripped his shirt tighter, his face burrowing into the crook of his neck, his sobs racking his entire body. Years of anguish and pent up emotions he'd thought had faded away over time washed through him like a gale. This was supposed to be the way of the Storm Guardian. They were emotive, very much passion-driven. But never had there been one as tortured as Gokudera. He'd stolen Yamamoto at a glance though the transfer student with the silver hair and the pretty eyes. Their green hue drew you in, and burned with unspoken challenges. They excited the Japanese teen and saddened him at the same time. They were the eyes of someone who had battled life entirely on their own.

"We have to leave," Yamamoto breathed, his neck muscles humming as he spoke. It thrummed against Gokudera's skin and fuelled his gasping need to live. The heat the swordsman gave off slowly heated the Italian's core, allowing him to assume control of his body and his own will once more.

He forced himself to stop crying and spoke with a small, ghostly smile, "then help me up."

Yamamoto's grin couldn't have been broader as he pulled away, his hand taking up his sword, the other extended, palm up to Gokudera. His gaze spoke more than words could describe, but one of them was fairly obvious.

I love you, the amber eyes spoke softly, but held more power than the sun.

I know...The green ones looked back at him, accepting the affection gratefully. He needed to be loved, even it was a front – but Yamamoto's emotions didn't seem like an act. Yamamoto was too sincere a guy to lie about such a delicate topic. He was a man that didn't waste words, much like Gokudera. It had been one of the things he found most endearing about the swordsman.

The Storm Guardian looked up at the Japanese teen, his smile small but still at least there. His eyes were still duller than there normally were, but he sensed life in them. He willed his partner to drag himself back into the realm of the living, and when he knew Gokudera wasn't about to collapse, he asked, "Do you think you'll be able to walk? We've got the motorbikes, but you've still got to get upstairs."

Gokudera grimaced, trying to nod, but his left leg wouldn't stop shaking, "Just my leg...fucking sore..." He rubbed his thigh, forcing blood into, but that only made it worse.

"Here, come on," Yamamoto said and gently hooked Gokudera's left arm over his. Gratefully, Gokudera leant on Yamamoto, reassured by his lover's sturdy form.

He absently wished he might have gone further with his partner, to have done more than just fool around – but he'd never been able to get past the ghosts of his past. Maybe now though...once Yamamoto knew...maybe things would be different...easier.

Or of course, Yamamoto could leave him. But he'd sworn he wouldn't and Gokudera would take him for his word.

"You do remember how to walk don't you?" Yamamoto joked when he'd tried to step forwards but Gokudera had stayed put.

The bomber looked at him wryly, "I may be emotionally unstable, but I'm not an invalid."

Yamamoto sighed, not liking the way his boyfriend was practically calling himself an emo, but still, they slowly made their way of the cell, Yamamoto's sword held out to anyone who dared attack them.

Now I've got you, no-one's ever gonna touch you, Yamamoto promised silently, you'll see me dead before that happens.

Once the two boys reached the ground floor where the battle had been continuing whilst the boy's had their little 'moment' together, Gokudera was shocked by what he saw.

Reborn was stood by the doorway, his eyes dark, but a smirk on his face. If ever a baby could look like a demon, then Reborn fit the bill perfectly.

Ryohei was on the floor, out for the count, his left arm caked with blood, so much you couldn't see where the wound was.

Hibari was limping, his right arm limp, but stubbornly holding on to his tonfa. The other hand was still held up, ready to knock anyone down if they came within three feet of him.

Tsuna was what surprised them both the most.

There he stood, over Mukuro's still body, his subordinates – Yamamoto felt Gokudera stiffen at the sight of bother Mukuro and Chikusa – strewn across the floor like they'd just been defeated.

"Wow, you guys sure put on a show," Yamamoto whistled, catching everyone's attention.

Tsuna turned, his dying will flame ablaze, eyes calm and serene. It was always so strange to hear him speak when in dying-will mode. It was so matter-of-fact and unlike Tsuna's normal attitude.

"He shot himself," he said coolly, looking at the blue haired with a confused expression, "but said something like, 'I'll see you again'"

Gokudera frowned, "arrivederci..." He looked at Tsuna, "Why would he say something like that?"

Yamamoto chuckled, "Your Italian accent is so sexy."

Though still glum and very much depressed, Gokudera was able to stamp on Yamamoto's food, "Not the best time, Yamamoto."

The swordsman snickered, but he was glad Gokudera was acting more like his usual self. If only he wasn't putting up a front to the others. Only Yamamoto understood how fragile his calm demeanour was.

But with the way reborn was eyeing Gokudera sceptically, Yamamoto wasn't too sure if he was the only one that knew more about Gokudera than the others. But then, the infant knew nearly everything.

Before he understood what was happening though, Gokudera felt that same unbearable pressure crush his mental control. He cried out and dropped to the floor, clutching his shirt over his heart.

"Hayato!" Yamamoto's voice was beyond distressed. The last thing he needed was for Gokudera to have another 'episode'. And he'd thought the Storm Guardian had been handling it, at least until they got home.

"Get away from him Yamamoto," Reborn instructed with that voice that meant no 'if's or 'buts'.

"But, he's hurting!" Yamamoto shouted, overcome by panic. He didn't understand why Reborn had such a dark, sinister expression, or why his pistol was suddenly aimed at Yamamoto's head.

"If you won't move, I'll shoot you. It'll save you," the toddler barked. It was the first time Yamamoto had heard the child speak above a normal octave and decided it would be best to obey him.

Face contorted with malice towards his torn loyalty, Yamamoto took the necessary steps away from Gokudera who continued to reel on the floor, but only enough so Reborn would lower his gun.

It was a relief to see Gokudera stop struggling, but when he sank from his knees onto his face, Yamamoto ignored Reborn's warning glare and charged back towards his lover.

"Yamamoto stop right now!" the infant hitman yelled, the shockwaves that his voice gave off curdling the swordsman's blood.

I can't though Reborn, Yamamoto apologised mentally, I promised Hayato he wouldn't be alone – I can't break it, no matter how important your reason.

But the moment he was within a arm's length of his lover, Gokudera leapt to his feet and lunged towards Yamamoto.

Too shocked to block him, they fell to the ground in a heap, Gokudera's bruised fists coming down on every available inch of exposed skin.

Yamamoto cried out as he felt his face bruising under the Storm Guardian's iron fists, his body too heavy for him to shift without hurting him.

He lifted his hands up defensively, dropping his sword, shielding his face the way Ryohei had taught him to if he ever got into a fist fight and ended up on the floor.

"Hayato! Please, stop!" Yamamoto practically screamed. His lungs were raw and muscles aching under the merciless blows. The Guardian drove his fist into the Rain Guardian's rib cage, splintering one of his ribs. He chocked on blood, biting down on his tongue so he wouldn't retaliate. He wouldn't strike back. He couldn't. No matter what damage he took, he couldn't do such a thing. Not after he'd promised his lover.

But Gokudera's actions confused him and he felt a stiff jolt of betrayal. Why Gokudera? What have I done? Is it because I didn't confront you earlier? Is it because I didn't come to save you faster?

There was a flash of movement, a blur of brown, black and what looked like fire, and within a heartbeat, Gokudera was flung off him.

Yamamoto hurriedly sat up, but hissed as the damage to his ribs stopped him from straightening up fully. Damn, those punches hadn't been light. There had been real feeling behind those. But what were they?

The swordsman looked up and immediately ignored the pain in his ribs and launched to his feet, outraged by what he saw.

"Let go of him now Tsuna!" His tone held more bite to it than it should have, but only he knew how unstable Gokudera was right now, and wasn't ready to be a diplomat on the matter. He knew better than to give Gokudera special treatment, but given the situation, some slack had to be given.

Tsuna just looked over, but even in hyper dying-will mode, you could see the concern in his otherwise distant eyes.

"But...he was beating you senseless Yamamoto," Tsuna spoke cautiously, concerned for both his Guardian's. He held Gokudera by the collar at arms length, but he was shorter than the Italian and had needed to smack the boy across the face to still his struggling. He regretted it, but he didn't need anymore damage to be done.

"Tsuna, I'll say the same thing I did to Yamamoto. Get away from him."

Reborn's voice was definitely in a world of its own in how intimidating it was. If ever vampires existed, Yamamoto was sure they would have turned tail and run away screaming at his tone. It dripped with fury, outraged that he had been ignored by both Yamamoto and then insulted by his student's stupidity. Why would he have told Yamamoto to get away from the Storm Guardian if he wanted Tsuna to get closer?

"But he'll begin to hurt Yamamoto again," Tsuna argued.

The child fixed Tsuna with a glare sharper than glass shards, the iris so black and bottomless. They flared like black flames, and their depth told them both that the child hitman was well and truly pissed.

Reluctantly, Tsuna released his hold of Gokudera, stepping back as fast as he could, worried he'd become the temperamental teen's new punching bag. Never had the Italian raised a hand against Tsuna, but given what he'd just seen, he wasn't willing to take any chances.

"Both of you," Reborn's voice dripped with malice, "Look closer at your fellow comrade. You as well Hibari. You seem to be the only one here with enough sense to obey me."

The prefect scoffed, but said nothing. Yamamoto was certain the older boy had a very good defensive response to what Reborn had said, but knew better. Even he hadn't seen the child so upset.

"Does he look strange to you?"

Both Yamamoto and Tsuna bit back the urge to splutter, uhh, he's been tortured Reborn...what did you expect? For him to be sitting down having tea with a new haircut?

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes through the throbbing pain in his ribs, stepping to the side so he was leaning on his right leg to help.

As his vision focused on his lovers face, he gasped. Both shock and horror swooped down on him and dug their claws into his chest, and he wasn't sure which one won out.

Gokudera's left eye was red, the pupil distorted in the shape of some ancient Japanese character. Veins like paper folds creased out on his skin from the corner of his eye and the skin was a lighter shade, almost chalky in comparison to his otherwise creamy skin.

"My god..." Yamamoto breathed. Tsuna had noticed by now as well, but had kept whatever opinion he had on the matter to himself.

"Ciao di nuovo," Gokudera spoke in his native tongue. Yamamoto had picked up enough to understand - Hello again. When Gokudera spoke Italian, Yamamoto always got chills, a shot of electricity that swam through his body like a hot current. The voice that spoke to him now made him cringe. It wasn't his lovers, but someone else's.

Had Gokudera just been possessed?

"Rokudo Mukuro," Reborn growled.

"No," Yamamoto gasped, looking over to the motionless body of the culprit, "But he's dead on the floor! He fricking shot himself in the head!"

Reborn looked about ready to snap, "Yes, well done Yamamoto, you have now established the obvious and caught up to everyone else."

The swordsman pursed his tight lips angrily. He turned to look back to Gokudera, but found the space where he'd been empty.

What the-?

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna cried out.

Too late.

Gokudera swept around him, ducking around his tall frame. He moved as swiftly as a bird in flight, astonishing for someone with injuries like Gokudera's.

Yamamoto swooped around, grunting at the protest his bruised ribs gave him, clutching his side, doubling over slightly, but still standing, facing the Italian.

"You've never been the sharpest tool in the box, have you Rain Guardian?"

The son of bitch. Using his lover's voice to insult him – if he wasn't in Gokudera's body, he would pound the life out of him.

"But," He spoke silkily, in a sickening, overly obnoxious manner, "You do sense more than you let on. Your social skills are far more acute than most would give you credit for."

Yamamoto was barely an inch away from his sword, especially with the way he was doubled over, and wondered if he'd be able to get it. He could do it. He could grab it, make a run for Mukuro's body and hold it hostage. There had to be a limit to possession. Surely Mukuro couldn't kill Gokudera.

Mukuro stepped closer – it was too insulting and wrong to think of him as Gokudera. Gokudera's body was there, but his soul, that was another matter. The thought shocked the Swordsman. He'd barely dragged his lover away from death's doorstep. He doubted he could do it again with such success.

The man got increasingly close, intimately close. His chest was pressed right up against Yamamoto's in a sexually suggestive manner, mouth close to the Rain Guardian's neck. It didn't excite him in any way though. If sent sparks of fear rattling through his bones and he wondered if this was the kind of horror Gokudera had felt. Was this something that his lover had had to experience?

"Your precious comrade," he laughed silently at the word, knowing how much Gokudera meant to Yamamoto, "is safely locked away. Until I release him, his body is mine to control; from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. They're all mine to command."

"Bastard," Yamamoto growled, pushing Mukuro away.

Mukuro made Gokudera's face sadden, an expression that dug a small hole in his chest. It was so similar to the look Gokudera had given him earlier. Which only infuriated the teen all the more - To gouge out his reactions by manipulating his feelings...what a sick bastard.

"Don't be so cruel. If you abandon me, I don't know what I'll do."

Yamamoto's face turned savage as he mocked Gokudera's pain, but he soon became horrified when the illusionist dragged his thumb across his throat, nail cutting a thin line across. Blood beaded around the broken skin, and he pierced the skin a little deeper by the corner, so much that there was soon a steady trickle.

"Stop it!" Yamamoto cried, making a dash for his sword.

But Mukuro was faster. He snatched up the weapon and wielded it as his own. His skill was nearly enough to outmatch Squalo as he approached Yamamoto.

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna shouted in horror.

Mukuro's eyes snapped over to the brown haired boy and he smirked, "Ah, the reward of my efforts."

He changed course towards Tsuna now, "I've had my fun with you. Now you will break and I will kill you, and finally bring about the destruction of the mafia."

He began to advance at a faster pace, but was slowed by Reborn's flat voice.

"You know I won't let you do that Mukuro."

His smirk just widened, "I'd like you to try and stop me Arcobaleno. You could I'm sure, but it would be at the cost of one of your valued Guardians."

Reborn's expression tightened, "Do not doubt me."

"Don't doubt me then," Mukuro countered and lunged for Tsuna.

Tsuna just stood there, unable to raise a hand against his comrade.

No, Yamamoto bellowed the word in his thoughts and all sense left him. If he did this, then maybe it would help give Gokudera the strength to fight for control of his body again. Maybe. It was reckless, but he wasn't going to just stand there and let Tsuna be killed.

Hibari looked torn between actually saving Tsuna's life and the after-effects of the act, so he instead just stood, holding his injured arm, dropping to his knees in exhaustion.

As the Rain Guardian charged towards Tsuna, his eyes locked with the Cloud Guardian's for a split second, but their intentions were understood.

Hurry, the dark grey eyes nearly pleaded. As much as the boy hated Tsuna and his pathetic, 'herbivore' ways, he didn't want him to die, no matter how often he bit the boy to within an inch of his life.

He dove in front of Tsuna just as Mukuro raised Yamamoto's sword in a graceful arc. He held it above his head, bringing it down quickly.

This was weird. Mukuro was too skilled to not be able to dodge Yamamoto's clumsy attempt at defending his friend, but the way Gokudera's eye colour kept shifting explained it all.

His lover was trying to fight for control over his body again. He refused to lay back and have his friends murdered before his eyes.

I'm glad Gokudera. You're strong enough...Yamamoto's expression softened in relief when Gokudera's eye colour flitted back to its original green hue. But the sword was already coming down; he could hear the clean 'shing' of metal slicing through air. Ironic that it was his own weapon that would end him.

The terror in his lover tore at the Rain Guardian's heartstrings, and he yearned for more time. He wished for those sweet moments they'd shared. He yearned to feel the warmth of his lovers body against his during the times when they fell asleep on the floor from cramming together, the petty arguments they had over coffee and the broken toaster or crappy internet.

You're beautiful Gokudera, his brown amber eyes spoke, filled with as much love he could, but so is life. You can't give up on it. There's too much left in life for you to waste it over me.

The metal cut across his skin in a clean, swift arc, slashing him from his right shoulder down to his waist on the left hand-side.

The blade hadn't gone as deep as he'd thought though, and by the time he'd dropped to his knees, blood soaking both his shirt and pooling in his mouth, Gokudera had gained full control again and caught his lover before he fell onto the floor completely.

I'm proud, Yamamoto thought happily, glad to be in his lover's arms again, even if it may be the last, you're special to me Gokudera. More than words can describe.

He felt his strength drain away as his blood flowed freely from his new wound, coating Gokudera's arms and chest.

"No," he whimpered, "per favore, no, Yamamoto!" He cried the last part.

I love you Hayato, I always did, the swordsman thought softly, going limp in Gokudera's arms, his soul thoughts blurring and dulling to a soft haze that let him ride down the current that led too unconsciousness.

"Per favore, Dio, non fare questo, Yamamoto, per favore, no! Tu non mi lasciare, non ancora!" Gokudera's despair rattled its way through him in his mother tongue whilst his thoughts begged to any god that cared to listen, Please, God...don't do this to me...don't...please...Yamamoto, don't! You can't leave...not yet...you just can't!

He curled around the Rain Guardian's body protectively, rocking back and force, his eyes squeezed shut in horror of what he'd just done. How could he? He was a monster. A blackened, rotten monstrous thing, more beast than human. He could've stopped the sword, he was certain, but still his arm had followed through. He hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't been strong enough. And it had cost him the life of his only salvation.

Whatever black pit Yamamoto had managed to make Gokudera crawl out of, he knew he would soon be revisiting and taken a permanent residence at. With Yamamoto gone, he knew he wouldn't survive. He wouldn't cope – there wouldn't be enough strength and reason left for him to pull himself out of the clutches of sleep to face life. Not again – never. He would rather have had death take him, or be thrown into hell than have to bear this agony.

Just when he'd begun to think fate may have thought to let him live a little, it had instead taken him higher and dropped him again. And the further you climbed, the harder you fell.

Gokudera kept falling as he held his dead lover, his screams being torn from his very core, his soul shattering more with each woeful cry. Yamamoto had been the light in his life. With his reason gone, his world had dimmed once more.

"-dera. Gokudera Hayato!" a voice spoke louder now, cutting through his otherwise impenetrable misery.

Reborn stood by him with Tsuna, holding a first aid kit.

"Move, or he will die," Reborn ordered.

Gokudera just looked at the two of them blankly. Tsuna felt shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes and put a tentative hand on Gokudera's arms, surprised by how cold his skin was, "He isn't dead. We'll be able to save him. Look, he's still breathing."

Gokudera snapped his gaze down and the flood of relief had him stumbling away, eager to have his lover healed as quickly as possible.

If I can hear him speak, maybe I won't lose it. As long as he survives, maybe I won't be left alone. Maybe I'll be able to explain, to beg for forgiveness. But will he forgive me? I fucking stabbed him! We can't just make up and go about your daily life with that hanging between us. Oh God, what if he hates me...

Whilst Gokudera was floundering in his own misery, Reborn instructed Tsuna ruthlessly. It was an inconvenience to have such small hands, but as long as Tsuna followed his instructions, then they should have Yamamoto conscious in a good half an hour.

Reborn's only wonder was as the Vindice took away Mukuro and his subordinates – the infant couldn't help flinching at the bandaged guards in their top hats and black capes. Any hitman reacted to them in that way. You never knew if you were going to be carted on or not. They just appeared and took you away – was the damage that had been caused. Even with the sun affinity Ryohei possessed, it would take time for his injuries to heal. Hibari's arm was dislocated and had fractured three of his ribs. Tsuna had suffered the least damage, but Reborn knew the boy would feel it in the morning.

It was Gokudera that worried him the most. He hadn't pried too closely into the Italian's past, but knew it was far darker than most. The Arcobaleno wondered if the kid would able to hold out until they managed to resuscitate Yamamoto.

The infant looked back to the swordsman that was being bandaged vigorously by Tsuna, who'd already done everything Reborn had instructed. Impressive for a boy that had just fought an exhausting battle.

You'd better get your butt back to reality Yamamoto. Gokudera's counting on it.

As if in response, the Arcobaleno swore he saw the swordsman's eyes twitch under his eyelids.