Author's Note: I'm baaaaack _. I said this was done, but my thoughts keep coming to this story no matter how many other projects I work on. Time for part 2.

If you are like me and can't remember half of what all was in this story from when it finished a few years ago, here is a very (very) rough synopsis of the last 44 chapters. (if you don't need one, just skip ahead!)

Story So Far:

After Dark felt Daisuke get badly injured, he and Krad cooperated to break their seal and return to Japan. Severely hurt by Krad during the trip, Dark found his way into the company of Satoshi, the Harada twins, and a veterinarian named Hattori with a lousy bedside manner. Together, they realized Daisuke had been kidnapped by Gorudo Corporation, whose CEO was the legal owner of the original Black Wings and hell-bent on bringing it (Dark Mousy) into his possession.

Against veterinarian's orders and amidst a resurgent romance with Risa, Dark chose to submit himself into Gorudo's custody in order to negotiate for Daisuke's release. But he was met with a rude surprise when he learned Daisuke was voluntarily cooperating with his kidnappers' research into the nature of his link with Dark. Daisuke's emotions were artificially suppressed by his researchers' machines. This allowed him to make the coldly practical decision to allow Gorudo's team to separate his consciousness from Dark's, so that they could lead separate lives.

Meanwhile, Krad accidentally forged a rapport with a young man, Jiro, whom he found himself unable to protect during a building collapse. After a chance meeting/fight with his former wing host, the blonde hit rock bottom and ended up in bad company on the wrong side of town. He was outnumbered in a fight and taken into the dungeon of a sexually twisted woman named Midnight. I know, right? This was about when Satoshi realized his link to Krad was still active (awkward). By the time Satoshi got to him, the blonde was nursing some heavy emotional and physical trauma. The rescue went south, and Krad killed Midnight along with a number of her lackies during a street chase.

Satoshi and Krad's relationship was strained at best and violent at worst, but they kept getting drawn back together. Ultimately, it took the whole team along with Krad to rescue Daisuke. But they arrived too late to stop Gorudo from achieving his real goal: become Dark Mousy himself by merging with Dark and completely rewriting the power dynamic in the newly forged soul link. The team got out with Daisuke alive, but Dark was already trapped in Gorudo's mind.

A last-ditch effort to reverse what Gorudo had done resulted in a huge showdown at one of his speaking events. Krad and Satoshi had to break out of police custody to help (they'd been arrested for Krad's murder of Midnight's crew). The fight went south, and Krad and Dark (Gorudo) ended up in a gruesome fight that Gorudo was intent on seeing through to the end. Gorudo forced Dark to deal Krad a lethal blow. To stop Gorudo from killing everyone else, Krad returned with a lethal spell of his own. Both angels fell to the ground, bleeding to death. Krad lost control and kissed Satoshi as he was dying, but it only earned him a smack on the cheek.

When both angels passed on, the real problem appeared. Both halves of the Black Wings re-merged into a bigger, prettier, stronger, and meaner super-angel. The true Black Wings. Even the literal cavalry couldn't stop the reformed Black Wings from obliterating the city. As specters not yet passed on, Dark and Krad's souls came awake in a separate plane, looking down on it all as the city fell to ruin. They found a way to weaken the Black Wings just enough for the military to destroy it.

The Black Wings split back into two bodies, but they were each in a coma. When Dark woke, he discovered that Risa had become his wing host, likely because she wanted that connection badly enough when the links were in chaos to draw it to her. This left Dark relieved to be connected to another soul, but crushed by the permanence of his break with Daisuke.

Krad…didn't wake up. For weeks Satoshi kept his body in his apartment, unsure how to feel. He was past hope when the angel came to his senses in the middle of the night. Satoshi was astonished to find that Krad didn't want to fight, or to leave. Or to proceed with his revenge. Or to live, anymore. One huge breakdown later, Satoshi found himself permitting the angel to stay with him, and even tried a kiss on for size. The experience affected both of them, but between Krad's PTSD from Midnight's dungeon and Satoshi's trust issues, they were still too complicated to go any further…yet.

Epilogue: Blue and Gold

Satoshi tucked his head down and pushed through the maze of flashes and microphones. His face was drawn pale and tight, arms tense at his sides. He didn't like having things thrust into his face, or feeling cornered. For that matter, he wasn't much of a fan of people in general, except maybe Daisuke and a few choice friends. It took some willpower to keep his arms tense yet still, palms drawn into clenched knots at his waist. He walked as if the red sea were parting, forcing the chattering reporters to scurry to avoid colliding with him. He praised himself for not punching anyone or mouthing off as he pressed through the crowd toward his apartment gate.

When were they going to grow tired of this?

Maybe they weren't. Maybe this would be his life now.

Eager microphones pressed over the rungs of the gate and begged at him as he shut the latch behind him. He gave an absent salute to the cop stationed just inside the yard, but didn't manage eye contact. Kouga didn't attempt conversation either as he passed. Satoshi's frustration mingled with a pang of gratitude as he passed his former squad member. He was Kouga's ward, not his boss, at the moment, but there was still a mutual respect and understanding between them. When Satoshi stole a rearward glance at his guard, the man was regarding the beleaguered reporters with a twitch of a pitiless smirk.

A pang of jealousy stole through Satoshi's gut. He could just barely remember what it was like to have his head above water, to have the confidence to see the reporters' behavior as lame and amusing, rather than oppressive and threatening. If he could just climb out of this a few inches, just enough to remember how to be who he was. That version of himself felt far from reach at the moment. As he closed the stairwell door behind him and made his way down the hall to his door, his sense of discomfort morphed into a different breed of nerves.

He stood in front of the door. Drew a full breath. Ran a hand through his hair. Damn it, why was he primping? He growled softly under his breath, thrust the key into the lock, and twisted the door open with zero ceremony.

The angel stood facing the living room wall, adjacent to the door. He held a paintbrush in his left hand, hovering a half inch from the surface of the wall. In his left hand was a small wood palette, patterned with quarter-sized swatches of precisely blended paint. Krad had taken his eyes from his work to regard him with burning gold as he entered. The blond wore a pair of borrowed dark-wash jeans… period.

"Why the hell are you shirtless?" Satoshi blurted out harshly. Shit, too harsh.

The angel's expression twitched a fraction duller. Shit. "Yesterday, you complained about the paint," Krad started, and dropped off. Gold brows pinched together for a brief second, and then the confusion was buried under an amber frown.

Right. He'd been open to Krad keeping himself busy with painting and was happy enough to forfeit a wall to the project to avoid buying pricey canvases. But yesterday, the angel got blue paint on a nice shirt Satoshi had loaned him from his wardrobe. The bluenette hadn't been pleased, and apparently painting shirtless was Krad's new strategy.

That wasn't going to work. Satoshi dared a glance down from the angel's face, across the slender sculpt of the angel's collarbone. He had a smudge of blue on his left pectoral—Nope.Satoshi's eyes skipped to Krad's paintbrush like a high beam had flashed him on a dark road. "I have some junk shirts in a box in the closet…use them as smocks."

The angel looked annoyed, but set his palette and brush on the tarp at his feet and left the room to find Satoshi's box. Satoshi made himself not stare. Every time the blonde moved, it was like a painting came to life in front of him. If the angel held still, Satoshi could almost forget he was an incarnated work of art, but even the simple act of crossing the room betrayed Krad's real nature. He was a masterpiece.

A masterpiece who had kissed him. A masterpiece that had moved beyond his own ego and bad temperament to essentially beg to stay in this apartment. No, not the apartment… Krad had actually begged to stay with him.

In the heat of that night, drunk with relief that the angel was alive, Satoshi had agreed. He'd permitted the angel to stay, and he'd returned the kiss, against all good judgment he had left. He still didn't know why he'd done it, or what it meant. His relationship with Krad had always been complex. And unhealthy.

Was it still unhealthy? The blonde hadn't broken any of the rules Satoshi set for him to reside here. The rule list wasn't long, but it was demanding, for someone like Krad. "Don't invade my head." "Don't go through my things without permission." "No violence or attack spells." "Respect instructions from the police." "Don't go after Dark or Daisuke." Satoshi may as well have told the angel to just stop being Krad.

And ever since, even after feeling Krad's unmistakable pain and affection bleeding freely from the angel's mind to his, Satoshi had been stuck. Stuck and waiting for the other shoe to drop. The other shoe. Always. Dropped.

The angel had gone through some dramatic changes, but Satoshi knew better than to think Krad could simply stop being Krad. Drop his revenge, drop his vendettas, throw away his madness and venom just like that. Maybe for a few weeks, they could pretend this was real. Then, it would all crash apart and set off an explosion his soul wouldn't survive. And Satoshi found himself almost desperate for it to happen, and be over with. Hope was an agonizing thing. He kept pushing the blonde, poking him with sticks and waiting for him to snap. The longer he went without snapping, the crueler and bigger the hope grew. It was a painful tornado inside him now.

What exactly was he hoping for?

Krad returned wearing a blue button-down that had lost most of its color in the wash over the years. It looked absurd on him… nothing about Krad's appearance was washed-out. His white wings stretched out the back without there actually being any holes in the fabric… Satoshi wasn't sure how he'd learned to do that.

Satoshi looked back at the wall, following Krad's gaze. Blues, greens, and yellows blended together on the wall, punctuated by small bursts of white. Satoshi couldn't make out where the brush had stroked. The colors were blended so smoothly that they appeared organic, like the wall was really meant to be a sea of blues and greens, and not a wall at all. It wasn't clear yet what it was supposed to be, or if it was meant to be abstract. "You're making something big," he noted.

"Is that a problem?" Krad's voice was inscrutable.

"Make what you want," Satoshi muttered, pinching between his eyebrows."

Krad's head gave the barest tilt. "Has something happened?"

Satoshi's gaze retraced involuntarily toward the front window.

"The reporters." Something feral stalked over Krad's tone as he followed the other man's eyes.

"They're harmless," the boy muttered. He gave up on massaging his migraine. Instead, he turned to the kitchen and began pulling out a TV dinner. He hadn't had much energy for cooking, lately.

"Is it something else, then?" the angel demanded, following him despite the "back off" body language Satoshi was striving for.

"It's my business, Krad," Satoshi stated firmly.

The angel went silent, and Satoshi wondered if he should be worried about Krad's temper bursting. It had in the past, when the blue-haired man asserted boundaries the angel didn't like. Other shoe, other shoe, he reminded himself.

Might as well speed things along. "My disciplinary hearing was today. Discussed the terms of my return to the force. And what to do with you."

"Do with me." As expected, Krad's pupil's constricted to angry black dots. He peered at Satoshi under long gold brows, challenge written all over him.

"I figured you'd want to be the one discussing your future, so I suggested a meeting."

"A meeting," Krad prompted, his voice a dangerous bronze rumble.

"With the Chief, and you, directly." Satoshi watched his expression to try to predict what the angel was thinking. "Will you go?"

"What does he want?"

"Ask him that. And Krad, you can't hurt him."

"Inaccurate."

Satoshi narrowed his eyes testily. "My badge is on the line, here. I've got the charges I took for your murders with Midnight's crew. I've resisted arrest and broken any number of infractions, and now a powerful maybe-criminal is living with me. I've used all the sway I had left to get you free passage in and out of here and keep you out of some lab. I'm lucky I'm not in jail, much less up for appeal to active duty. Now I need you to do everything possible to make sure we don't look any worse."

He braced himself for an argument, but Krad didn't move to speak. The microwave beeped rudely as his dinner finished heating. Satoshi got it out and held it in one hand while he fanned it without relish with the other. "Take the meeting, Krad." He held out a business card with tomorrow's date and "2:30" written out on it.

Krad regarded it with a grim frown, and took it without a word.

A beat of protective anxiety thumped through Satoshi's chest. Krad's expression wasn't far off from the way he'd looked when Kouga and the squad had him locked and bound in the police van. The blonde didn't do well with surrendering control, and that was what Satoshi was asking of him. There was no way this would work. "Okay?" he asked warily.

Krad closed his eyes and slipped the card into his back pocket. "Yes."

That was it. Just yes. "Thank you," Satoshi said softly. He reached out and thumped a hand on Krad's shoulder, touching lightly. *You'll do fine.*

Krad's eyes were sharp and alert again, looking straight into him like the mental contact had jarred him from a deep sleep. It made Satoshi hesitate. He'd barely touched their link since their agreement, let alone communicated with it. "I've got some cases to catch up on."

Trying not to look back at Krad, Satoshi took his food with him into the bedroom, shut the door, and settled down at his desk to work.

oooooooooooooOooooooooooooOoooooooooo

The apartment was too quiet. The soft swish, swish of his paintbrush on the wall was the only sound in the empty room. Krad dropped the cobalt color he'd been working with and picked up a rich, sky blue. It was the dominant color in this project. He stared at the color on the brush for a minute, then began painstakingly blending in slow, calculated strokes.

The work was usually an effective distraction. But today, his mind was cluttered with the information he'd pulled up online that morning. Satoshi's computer was off limits, one of many conditions the wing host had set for his presence here. It was one of the least irritating rules, and yet the only one he'd broken regularly. Every morning, he sat at the wing host's cramped desk and pulled up the news.

The world knew about him now. It knew about Satoshi now. Reporters virtually lived outside the apartment gates, and neither of them could leave or come without being recorded. The world had many theories about its new angelic citizens, and many agendas. Krad had read any number of articles headlined by photos of Satoshi's drawn, shut-down expression. The same one he wore home every night.

Krad had been staying in. He didn't like being watched and followed any more than Satoshi did. It wouldn't be so bad, given the company, except that Satoshi was barely around. He worked long hours at the department, holding meetings and press conferences that Krad could only read about online. A lot of them were about him. And when his wing host was here, he was barely civil. Whatever the boy might have felt toward him the night he un-died and asked to stay, Krad hadn't seen it since.

Krad hadn't acted that way again, either. He wasn't clear on the rules. Satoshi had ordered him not to invade his mind, and all the younger man's behavior had come across as a big red stoplight since.

The business card in his back pocket burned at his awareness. It was close to time for the meeting. He set the brush down, covered his paints. He went back to the mirror and looked at himself. His hair was drawn into a loose tail over the old blue shirt he'd taken as a smock. He touched the top button to undo it.

"Why the hell are you shirtless?"

He'd heard anger, or perhaps disgust, in the boy's question yesterday. Krad's nerves stiffened with the memory. He looked in the mirror again, lost. Was his body an eyesore? Was that even possible? If not, then had it been hatred? The boy had kissed him two weeks ago, and now couldn't stand the sight of him?

Those had been unique circumstances, Krad reminded himself. Satoshi hadn't been well that night. Maybe the boy's real thoughts were those he'd written on that crumpled journal page, the one Krad aimlessly read after coming out of the coma. "Krad will always be Krad, and the world's safest if he never opens his eyes again."

The angel understood it. Finally, after all these years, he grasped what a monster he'd been to his wing host. Of course Satoshi wouldn't be able to forgive this quickly. Krad had taken centuries to get past his grudge against Dark, and then only because Satoshi had ordered it. The boy would probably need more time to stop hating him, he told himself as his ribs felt too tight for his chest.

But this situation, living alone with his wing host while he still despised him, was starting to take a toll on the blonde. The boy barely spoke to him at night before disappearing into his room. Krad spent nights on the sofa, obviously. But he remembered what it had been like to sleep beside the boy in his bed, Satoshi's fingers threaded through his feathers. It was no easy thing to endure his wing host's renewed frost toward him.

He stripped thoughtlessly and changed into gray slacks with a belt and a white button-down. Satoshi's clothes didn't fit perfectly – too short in the leg and a shred tight over the chest, but Krad didn't exactly have the means to pick his own wardrobe. He closed his eyes and focused his magic, his hair and clothes falling into place over his long limbs. It was just a glamor, but it achieved its purpose. He looked like a properly clothed human.

He moved fast as he left the front door and entered the yard. Satoshi's guard, Kouga, watched him warily from his post by the gate, but said nothing. The reporters hadn't been expecting Krad to leave, and they weren't ready. By the time they got their cameras rolling, he was a silhouette against the clouds above them, and then gone.

ooooooooooOooooooooooOoooooooooo

Daisuke watched the security monitor as a black-winged figure approached the house. Finally. He jumped up, thrust the latch free on the window, and pushed open the shutters. His heart leapt into his chest as Dark Mousy banked over the news crews outside and landed in an easy crouch at his windowsill, arms braced on the sides of the frame. Daisuke stood back so the angel could swing inside with an easy, graceful movement. The angel stretched to his full height, clad in a red tee and an unbuttoned black shirt that hung too long on him and yet managed to look absurdly fashionable. His hair was merrily windswept, and Dark didn't bother fixing it as he strolled across the carpet of Dai's bedroom like he lived here.

Well, he had lived here. Daisuke didn't try to hold back a wave of pleasure that the thief still seemed comfortable walking in like he owned the place. Then again, that was kind of what thieves did.

"Did you meet with him?"

Dark smirked. "Yo, Daisuke. Not bad, yourself?"

The redhead blushed, both impatient and pleased at the teasing. "I'm being serious because this is a big deal, Dark. You risked a lot by going. What did he say?"

The angel hooked his hands into his pockets, a normally casual posture, but on Dark it meant nerves.

"Dark, what did the Chief of Police have to say?"

"Wasn't just the Chief. He had two others with him."

Daisuke resisted the urge to clench his hands into fists. "That wasn't what you agreed to." It was no light thing for Dark Mousy to take a meeting with the police, inside their headquarters. Daisuke didn't like that they adjusted the terms he and Risa had vehemently negotiated for the meeting. He was a little surprised Dark hadn't aborted the meeting at the first sign of broken agreement.

"No," Dark mused. "There were two scientists with him."

Something in Daisuke's stomach tightened into a cold, hard ball. Dark had not had good luck with scientists. Nor had he himself. "Whatever they want, say no."

"From their perspective, I've committed a lot of crimes, and absolution isn't a simple thing for them to grant. I heard them out."

"Dark, what did they want with you?"

The angel noticed the note of terror in his voice. His former wing host was worried. His chest lifted in pleasure. "A research arrangement. I turned them down, Daisuke. It's not happening. Promise." He took a deep breath and let it out in a clearing rush. "Can't exactly blame them for trying. There's a lot they don't understand about us."

'Us' meant Dark and Krad, Daisuke realized. "Who wanted to research you, anyway?"

"Apparently, the Ministry of Health."

"Oh." It made a little bit of sense now, why the police would endorse a research project, if it was coming from above them in the government. "How'd they take it when you said no?"

"Not great. They juxtaposed it with my arrest. Participate in the research, or they'd press charges for my not-insubstantial record." Dark smirked. "I pointed out that approach hasn't worked out so well for them, historically."

"And that you saved the whole freaking city, and almost died in the process," Daisuke snarled. His anger burned a lump in the back of his throat. Damn it, he was getting emotional, but Dark didn't deserve to be treated like this. Not after everything he'd done, everything he'd lost. Things he'd never have back.

'Are you mad at the police, or at yourself for abandoning him?' he wondered grimly.

Dark apparently sensed his mood, soul link or not. He clapped the redhead on the shoulder. "They accepted it, Dai. They gave it a shot, but it's done. They're out of moves, and the city council already voted to pardon me."

Daisuke nodded tightly and met his gaze. He'd never realized it until they were no longer connected, but Dark Mousey was a little overwhelming to look at. Those violet eyes were always brightly confident, and gave away nothing. His tall model's frame and fashionable clothes were at once reassuringly familiar and completely alien. Lately, no one got behind those eyes. Except maybe his wing host, and Daisuke wasn't a wing host anymore. Had Dark always been this locked down?

"Hey." Dark leaned in, bringing his face level with Daisuke's. "How you doin'?"

Daisuke swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't afford to get intimidated by Dark's friendship now. As much as he felt like an outsider in the thief's life, he knew on a stronger level that Dark still cared about him. And still needed him, in ways Daisuke had figured out far too late. "I'm all right, Dark. Just be careful."

"When am I not careful?" the angel chuckled.

Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Risa's downstairs. She and Riku are having girls' night."

"Girls' night!" Dark clapped his hands together, arching his back. "Hooray."

Daisuke choked on a laugh. "I don't think you're invited. Too many man muscles."

"My man muscles love Girls' Night," Dark sulked.

Daisuke looked away in a fit and held a palm up to warn Dark not to make him laugh any harder. "Do you want to have our own? We could marathon Pride and Prejudice."

"Oh, Mister Darcy," Dark swooned.

"You have problems."

"Must be the female wing host, I'm all delicate now," Dark scoffed.

"Ha ha." Daisuke hesitated, just slightly, but the angel noticed it. And just like that, it was awkward. The shield that had almost come down in those violet eyes flashed back up. Shit. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you checked in to say hello." Daisuke glanced down at his watch and did a double take. "Shoot. I agreed to go grab their takeout. Take a drive with me?"

"Go for it. I'm gonna stretch my wings a while."

Daisuke looked worried. Dark flashed him a careless smile and waved him out.

When the redhead had left, Dark's posture settled. The angel's straight back dropped to a more natural curve, huge wings eased downward. He looked a bit less like a model on stage and more like a normal, and very tired, male. He was trying, he really was. The fact they were no longer soul-bound didn't change the depth of the friendship they'd had, and Dark was determined to cultivate it into something whole again.

The angel strove to be calm and collected when he was near Daisuke, to prove they were cool again. It even worked sometimes. He'd come to terms with the rejection he'd felt when he woke up in Risa's head instead of Daisuke's. When his mind tried to replay what had happened in Gorudo's lab, he now had the perspective to overlap it with the memory of Daisuke's earnest affection for him when he'd died in the boy's arms.

But every time Daisuke tensed up around him, it set him back. Their connection was gone, his best friend was in a whole other world from the one they'd shared, and he was so fucking lonely he wanted to scream. What if they couldn't find a new center? How long could they go on like this?

A soft knock came at the bedroom door. Dark's muscles tensed, rearranging into his confident façade. But as the door opened, Risa stuck her face in. He relaxed again, and sent a tendril of trusting affection through their link to her. Her mind responded, open and gentle.

"Daisuke told me you were up here. Thought I'd say hi."

He went to her, and let her throw her arms around him in a tight hug. His heart heaved upward like she'd strapped it into a lifejacket. "Love you," he murmured into her hair. She smelled like wildflowers.

*I know*, she teased.

The mental contact was like a perfectly timed caress. He wanted to melt into it and sleep.

"You two okay?" she asked, drawing back enough to see his eyes. "Daisuke looked out of it."

He hesitated. He'd been careful around this topic with her. "We're getting there," he said lightly. "Time, time."

"You're sure?" He felt her press against his mind, and find the door locked. He'd been locked since he'd woken up from the coma. He gave her what he wanted her to know – his love, his pleasure and affection. But not himself. Not his problems. He didn't want to place those on her.

"What do you think will happen if you let me inside that head of yours?" she asked him point-blank. He tensed and gaped at her. She appraised him calmly back.

"Risa," he murmured, locking back a growing sense of panic. If he couldn't let her in, she would come to resent him. But if he showed her everything, showed how he was still mourning his relationship with Daisuke, it could be worse. She'd think he didn't want her. And then… Then she'd want to leave him, too. The thought was a knife in his spine.

"Not yet," he blurted, sounding strangled. It wasn't enough answer. It wasn't what she deserved, but he couldn't blow it this time. If she decided she hated being stuck with him too, he just…he'd…

"Let me make you a deal," Risa murmured. She didn't look happy, but she leaned up and kissed him.

The contact sent pleasure jerking through him, confusing his raw emotional circuits. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he parted for her, met her tongue with his. He felt so confused and so… oh, god…

*Feel good?* she purred into his mind, and bit his lower lip.

*Maybe.* His mental voice was a tattered growl.

*Imagine,* she kissed him again, leaning into his body, her waist pressing firmly against his reaction to her, *What it would be like, if we did this, and more, and we could both feel everything.*

He grappled back a moan and tried to think straight enough to understand what she was getting at. It was impossible to stop kissing her. *Risa Harada, are you bribing me? With sex?*

Her laughter in his mind did things to his insides he really thought he shouldn't be feeling in his friend's bedroom. *We both know it would be way better than just 'sex'.*

*I'm a horrible influence on you,* he observed, and tickled her, because if he let himself do anything else with his hands right now, Girls' Night was going to be off.

She squirmed loose and chomped his chin in retribution, earning a laugh from the thief. "I mean it," she smiled. "But you've got to trust me first. Let me in there, so I can trust you too." She rapped lightly on his chest for emphasis. It wasn't lost on Dark that she'd tapped his heart, and not his head. The woman was too sharp for her own good.

"I'll…work on it," he tried carefully. Don't break her, don't ruin this!

"Okay," she said with a soft smile. "It would mean a lot." She seemed satisfied then, and left to get back to her sister downstairs. He leaned back against a wall, his skin still hypersensitive from the way she'd touched him. Holy shit. She wasn't wrong about the sex. The link could be much more than telepathy, but he wasn't sure how she had figured all that out, when he'd barely opened his mind since…

The coma. Did she feel his mind unguarded then?

He had a lot of questions. Did she know what it meant to really be inside him? To experience what he felt? Would she even want to know how deep the link was capable of going? It might be fun for her for one night, but if he didn't watch his boundaries, she could grow to crave her privacy back, as Daisuke had. She could want him out.

He took a deep breath, and couldn't continue the thought. Now that he was a 'choice' and not a curse, everything about the soul bond seemed different. He'd never had to worry about whether his soulmate would choose to reject him. Humans ended relationships all the time. Dark didn't. He wasn't designed to change, or lose people. And damn, was he scared.

One little breakup had reduced him to this. And he was running out of time to fix himself.

ooooooooooOooooooooooooooOoooooooooo

The room they led him to had no windows. Strike one. The chief of police rose from his seat and reached out to shake his hand. Krad missed most of the man's polished greeting as he accepted the shake with mild disgust. The man's hand was hot, but not sweaty. Krad withdrew his arm as soon as his palm was released. He sat slowly, returning his hand to the table instead of his lap. He would wash it thoroughly later.

A secretary entered the room with two coffees in Styrofoam cups. Her slender hand shook as she set the drinks down for them. Really? Strike two.

"Krad." A loud voice pulled his attention back to the man across from him. "That is your name, yes?" Strike three.

"This was a mistake," the angel growled, standing.

"I'm sure you can appreciate the delicacy of this situation, for you and for officer Hiwatari," Satoshi's boss offered.

The blonde tensed. He was listening.

The man leaned forward. "Four men were slaughtered in the Midnight Scarrera case. That wasn't Satoshi's work. I would recognize his shooting. He's covering for you. What I don't know is his reason."

Krad sat slowly, staring at him.

"We don't have prisons that hold people like you and Dark Mousy, you know. You would need to be confined somewhere else. Someplace unique."

The idea of being locked up again sent Krad's thoughts rigid. But he made no move to defend the story Satoshi had fed the police to protect him. "You want something from me." It was an observation, cold and sharp as the frost that began licking up the corners of the one-way glass behind him. "What is it?"

Goosebumps formed on the Chief's forearms as the room dropped a few degrees. But this man was apparently built of tougher stuff than Krad had expected. He didn't appear fazed in the least.

"I'll assume, since you're here, that you've come with an open mind," the Chief said. "I'm going to invite in two individuals who'd like to speak with you," the man gestured to someone on the other side of that glass.

Two humans in formal attire entered the room. The man appeared to be in his mid forties, the woman perhaps older. They kept a respectful distance from Krad as they seated themselves at the far side of the table. That helped the angel resist the urge to tear their throats out.

"I agreed to meet with you," Krad asserted, jerking a wing toward the newcomers. "Not them." Both the newcomers were wearing government ID badges. The angel tried to make out the text on the woman's badge; the man's was obstructed by his folded hands as he propped his elbows on the table.

"These two are from Japan's Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare," the chief said by way of introduction. "I'd like you to hear them out."

Krad's gold eyes flickered to the woman's painted eyes, and then to the man's. He was not going to kill them at this precise moment.

"Good to meet you, Krad," the gentleman offered cordially. I'm Dr. Harold Sakamoto, and this is Dr. Hitomi Sagara." To Krad's relief, neither of them attempted a handshake.

"We'd like to discuss an opportunity with you."

…To be continued