Shizuo was leaning over the sink, washing his face vigorously with hot water to rinse the sleep from his eyes. His breathing was heavy and labored and he seemed to be in a daze. He looked around the room angrily and ripped the towel rack from the wall out of frustration.

This was getting out of hand, Shizuo told himself as he calmed down slightly. He pressed his back against the blank tile wall and slid down, catching his breath.

He was in his sleep wear; a pair of boxers. His hair was slicked with a sheen of hot sweat and disheveled from tossing and turning in his sleep. His throat was hoarse from the angry roar that left his lips as he had awoken. He just knew he'd be getting complaints from about half of the whole apartment building in the morning. And those would only be the ones who had the nerve to tell him.

He'd had a dream. A dream about that god damn flea again. It had been the sixth one since he was with Vorona in her apartment three days ago. As each vision passed, the grew progressively worse.

His sleep had once been his only escape from reality. Now, feared it even more than being awake.

"Can I not even be at peace in my dreams, Izaya?" the bodyguard whispered, glaring off at the bathroom door that stood wide open across from him, as if the man he was talking to stood there to listen. "I can't even have that anymore?"

Shizuo pressed the back of his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling, dejected. He closed his eyes, hoping the bathroom floor could give him more peace than his bed had.

His last choppy, short, and blurry dream played back through his mind again.

"Shizu- Agh! No..."

The flea's voice. It was raspy and short. Full of fear.

"Shi-Ahnn..." A sob from Izaya shook Shizuo's body.

Shizuo looked down. There was a blur of dark red between their two entangled bodies. He saw his own hips moving rhythmically and Izaya's feet kicking against his chest roughly. He looked into the flea's distressed crimson eyes and was met with utter hatred behind all of the pain being inflicted upon him.

Shizuo clamped his hands around Izaya's neck and his hands shot up to snatch his attacker's wrist. The raven's eyes widened with fear and he struggled beneath the blonde.

"Shi-" The grip tightened to the point where Izaya could no longer speak. Only stare back at Shizuo in fear.

And then he saw his own young face again.

"Daddy why?"

Shizuo clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry as the face of Izaya in his dream remained in his mind's eye to haunt him. But suddenly, a spark of curiosity had been lit. He staggered to his feet and headed to his fresh outfit waiting for him in the next room and picked up the phone. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few moments before dialing a number he had memorized, but never called.

~...~

Shizuo was frozen like a block of ice, standing next to white iron bars in such a way that he was unable to see directly in. Other than the sound of a guard's heavy boots clacking down the hallway away from them, it was completely silent. The footsteps faded. Shizuo felt alone in the badly lit hallway.

The hallway of Fuchu Prison.

He was standing mere feet from his former tormentor, with only a simple barrier of iron bars painted sloppily with white to keep them apart

"Well are you gonna step up so I can see you or not?" an apathetic voice questioned from around the corner. "They told me you were coming. About time, don't you think?"

Shizuo's eyes hardened defiantly. His held his breath and stepped forward. This was it. No turning back, no running...

"My," he heard. Their matching hazel eyes met and silently challenged each other. "Didn't recognize you for a second. C'mere, Shizuo."

Shizuo remained where he stood, a good three feet from the bars. He studied the man across from him and felt his pulse quicken. His face was the same as before; cold and smug. Somehow, it was much emptier than Shizuo always remembered. The man hadn't aged well. Shizuo remembered his fathers slicked-down brown hair. It had been the same exact color as Shizuo's had been . Now it had long, twisted streaks of gray that mostly dominated any color left. His once closely-shaved chin was infested with curls of a forming beard.

"Come on, tough guy. What could I possibly do to you like this?"

And once again, Shizuo obeyed his father and hated himself for it.

The Heiwagima was sitting on a small cot with his big, thick hands on his lap. He was garbed in prisoner orange. His back hunched lazily.

There was silence for what seemed to be about twenty minutes. The older Heiwagima began picking his overgrown cuticles as if he'd lost interest. The younger of the two stared at him intently as if he was calculating every word that was about to pass through his lips.

"I came to ask you a question."

Those honey-colored orbs flicked Shizuo's way. "I figured you'd come because you wanted to see your old man reduced to a lowly prisoner," he stated dryly. "Why don't we talk about life, kiddo? I haven't seen you in over ten years."

Shizuo's eyed narrowed warily. "You don't care about how my life is going, Daisuke."

There was a laugh. "No 'Dad?' And not really," the man agreed. "Trying to make some conversation." He sat up straight and leaned in close to the bars. Shizuo's heart quickened. Too close. After all his years in prison, his dad still somehow smelled like alcohol and musk.

"I've been having a real good time here. Even the prisoners in for murder love my kind," he said caustically. "Why else do you think I'm secluded for my own safety?"

Shizuo refused to show his father his fear. Daisuke already knew he was the only man who could make his son seize with fear with a simple glance.

And he didn't even have to see him everyday throughout high school. He didn't have to turn a corner in Ikebukuro, knowing his tormentor could be right across the street, or worse, right in front of him. Ready to throw something at him and kill him or worse...

He gulped as he thought this. Thought of Izaya... A puzzle piece fell into place at that moment.

"Whatever. What are you wanting to ask?"

Shizuo was brought back from his thoughts. "Why?"

He looked at his father's face. An untrimmed, bushy eyebrow rose. "Why what?"

Shizuo bared his teeth and got closer. To his surprise, his fathers demeanor changed to shock.

Shizuo felt a burst of confidence at this. "What do you think, you sick fuck?" the bodyguard growled menacingly. His father leaned back up to put distance between them. For the first time, Shizuo was in control. His father was the coward. "How could you? You've made me a mess. I've hurt other people and the reason always leads right back to you. I never want to be like you. You're the only person on this earth I hate other than myself. You're the person I'd love to throw something heavy at to kill-"

He felt the guard from down the hallway eyes on him and he quieted down a bit. His father still looked back at him in silence.

"I can bend these bars like their toothpicks," he whispered, face right up at the bars. "Taking your place in prison would almost be worth it."

He was about to say more when suddenly his father hung his head and held his ears. "God damnit, you think I don't know that?! You think you have to tell me I'm a sick fuck? I get called that everyday! I've gotten called that ever since you had to force you way into this world."

Shizuo stopped, mouth still open with words waiting to spill out.

"I know I'm a sick fuck," his dad said slowly, staring at the ground. A moment of silence passed. For a moment in time, Shizuo thought he felt the true love of a regretful father. He almost felt the love a son had for a father. But that moment in time passed, and his dad looked back at him with a scowl. "but I don't regret anything I did to you, you ungrateful little shit. My life was miserable, so I had the right to take happiness away from you too."

And for another split second, Shizuo felt the cold rejection of his father break his heart, despite it all.

"I don't ever want to feel the way you do. I'm never going to be like you."