Fei was in the tiny bathroom, painted in Alice in Wonderland motives, gulping down a mouthful of tepid water at the small chipped basin, splashing his face, fighting against not so much darkness, more a sense of his world shredding itself into pixels, like a television screen with faulty digital reception.

In waves fragments of the last day came washing over him, alternately making him go hot, or cold.

Had he really lain on the floor of that pub, naked? Where was Yoh? He remembered a surge of deepest abandon, and betrayal…and having been held and caressed…and fondled…by everyone around him, and that he had let that happen…

…and he remembered the far deeper, far more frightening sense that had beset him for some time now, building up, to finally culminate this night…the sense of someone rushing his fortress.

He never let anyone near him…Tao was a child, and their relationship, although very warm, followed set patterns, reassuring to both of them. Yoh was a professional, with a professional role in his life. Although there had been flashes of…but he had always respected his limits, never made him feel insecure. Fei didn't realize he was gasping aloud, the fleeting vision of that other professional erupting like a fiery volcano, taking his breath away ….

All sex he had sought since then had been with handpicked, anonymous, changing partners who knew his power and would never dare to make any unforeseen move.

The Russian. Fei scanned himself, through the looking glass. The long black hair, the oval face, the narrow eyes, the annoyingly feminine, full mouth (he reflexively pinched together his lips)…what did he see in him?

The sex with him he could recall in sharpest detail, or perhaps sharp wasn't the right word, for he had felt as if expanding until he was one with the whole universe…possibly, in a strictly technical sense, it hadn't met up with guidance books standards…he smiled dreamily at himself, chuckling a bit…wondering at his reflection. Was this him? He didn't know this relaxed, glowing person…

…this was another person altogether, the one mirrored in those wide, adoring eyes, the colour of the sky of his few hazy, happy childhood memories…yes there were those too…he suddenly startled. As if clouds were passing over his reflection.

He looked like a whore.

But that eerie sense of coming home in…Misha's … arms…(his heart beat faster as he tasted the endearment form his Russian friends used the first time in his mind, complete with Russian intonation, Miiishaa, Miiishaa…)

He supposed it was a good thing he had seen him in the public bath. He knew how it sliced at your heart to have someone falter over…what remained, reminding everyone, every moment of your life.

The first time he had seen him up close was on the 3m diving board, wondering why Mikhail, who was so disturbingly tuned in to his presence, had not noticed him, a mere three feet away. But the Russian had been concentrating, tensing every line of his beautiful, masculine body, before diving into the sparkling aquamarine in a taut, perfect arch.

…his fingers had traced what they already knew by heart…and Mikhail had felt that, he could sense it, as they melted into each other, the Russian adorably yelping like a little puppy…

…. but he couldn't remember anything after that.

"Fei Long - are you ok?"

Akihito. Who knew who he was, and not only that. He knew something else, something so…

He doubled over.

Coming to, he felt Akihito's hands on his body. Everyone was always touching him, even people who didn't like him…especially they…he didn't know he was contorting his face, his whole body, uttering gasping little sounds…

Firm hands pushed him down on the toilet seat. He knew he should fight back…but then his father would die…as from far away he saw a shaggy haired blonde kid sink to his knees in front of him and wait, just wait, looking at him from time to time, but not staring at him…just being there.

He started feeling his body again, hurting all over. Had they…?

But the feeling passed, all was well, he was among friends…even…the pullover he was wearing had such a…wonderful…smell…like the home he had really never had…he jerked his eyes open.

Akihito was sitting on the rim of the bathtub now, reading the morning paper, acknowledging him out of the corner of his eyes, but not making him feel he had to say anything.

Suddenly Fei felt light.

"Akihito?"

Akihito looked up. He couldn't help smiling at the boyish (or was it girlish?) excitement on the feared Mafia leader's…well, yes…beautiful face.

"Akihito, is there still anything in my jacket pockets? Besides Tao's picture, I mean…"

Akihito didn't tell him that they hadn't had to search his things because they already knew about him, because Asami had instructed him (the floor swayed a little…him, taking instructions! they'd see about that, yet…) because Asami had given him minute instructions as how to proceed.

"I think so, yes. I don't think anyone tampered with your jacket."

"Could I," god, but he did look irresistible when cocking his head a little like that, "do you think I could buy you all breakfast? I know the greatest café nearby…"

- to be continued -