A/N: Hello people of the internet! How have you been lovelies? I am glad to say: Yaaaay, last part is up! Thank you all so much for reviewing/favouriting, means the world. I love you all; anon, you are a joy. It's so sad I can't reply to you, like I can to everyone else, so all of my love to you, too!

Now on with the story; hope you like it sweeties.

Title: Laws of Attraction
Genre: Humour, Romance, Slice of Life
Alternative Universe: Modern Day AU, Lawyer-Cop AU, Buddy-cop AU

"I'm worried," Saitou confided in his best friend, as they shared a quick meal at a ramen stand; it was right opposite the precinct, making it the best choice for a hurried detective; currently, two. They were taking a break from all the paperwork they had to

"Tonight will conclude the third day Tokio hasn't contacted me."

"Is she big on calling?"

"Not really, but ever since she got sick, she hasn't stopped. To complain mostly." They both chuckled at that, nodding knowingly. "She doesn't like being stuck at home and I have to hear it. But the thing is, these last three days she hasn't called or texted at all. And that's strange."

Okita considered. "If you're so worried, why don't you call her instead?"

Saitou had to think about it. He had kept waiting and waiting for her to make the first move that it never really occurred to him to do it first, it wasn't their MO. He shrugged legitimately wondered. "I don't know; I probably should."

He took out his phone immediately then, and looked at his screen. And proceeded to do just that for a very long time, hand hovering uncertainly. Okita tried not to smirk.

"I mean, I know you love the sound of your own voice, but to think you fell into the category who can't stop looking at their reflection, too, how unexpected."

"Would you shut up? I'm thinking."

"Of what? If you're so concerned, just call her."

"I promised next time she called me, I'd ask her out; it'd feel underwhelming to call her to ask her where she's been."

"Wow there, wait a minute, hold up; you promised you'd what?" Oh. That's right; he'd forgotten to tell Okita. "When? Did you sleep with her after all?"

"No, idiot; you know I'm not like that."

He clicked his tongue. "I'd forgotten you're no fun; still, go on. You promised what, when?"

"I told you about the New Year party, right?" He nodded, wiggling his eyebrows; Saitou shook his head. "And that night I went to her house almost a week ago?" He wiggled his eyebrows even more; Saitou sighed. "Well, that's when I made up my mind; last time we talked, she sounded almost well again so I promised myself next time she calls, I ask her out. But she hasn't called since."

"Call her, my friend," Okita advised as he slurped his noodles, "you'll feel better, too."

"Hn."

Okita elbowed him. "Do it now that I see you; go on, do it, do it."

"Alright, alright; be quiet."

To think he was actually nervous about this, how ridiculous; and yet, his heartbeat quickened at the very thought. It felt as though his shirt had grown a size too small in three seconds, too and everything bothered him. He slid the screen open and then went to contacts. Eyes snapping to Okita, who kept nodding repeatedly, he pressed the green button and called her.

Heh, he'd forgotten how it felt taking a chance with another person; it was both scary and exhilarating. The moment he heard that characteristic sound, signaling whoever was on the other end of the line picked up, he took a deep breath. The smirk came involuntarily.

"Tokio."

"Hello, detective-san."

Saitou had to do a double take and make sure he had called the right number, because the voice that greeted him was unfamiliar.

"You're not Tokio; who are you? Is this her sister? Is this a bad time?"

"This is a bad time, indeed, sir, but not like you'd think. My name is Ishiwaka Haruka; I am a nurse with the Kyoto City Hospital."

He froze.

"I am afraid she cannot come to the phone sir."

"How long has she been there? Can I come see her?"

"She's been here since a little after midnight yesterday; yes, you can. Please do, in fact, I think it would help greatly."

"I'm coming right now; I will ask for you when I come. What floor?"

"Third, sir."

"Thank you, Haruka." He hang up and Okita could tell something went incredibly wrong but waited till Saitou digested the news himself before he asked, or, as it did happen, Saitou shared all on his own. "Tokio's at the hospital."

Okita gaped.

"Yeah, no kidding; I thought she'd gotten better, but apparently I was wrong." He sighed. "Now I feel horrible for making fun of her last time." He clicked his tongue as he searched his pockets for some money. "Okita, do you mind explaining to Hijikata why I left early?" He threw some notes on the stand, next to his almost finished bowl.

"No man, just go. I only hope it isn't anything serious—though I did hear a lot of cases of pneumonia lately."

"Don't jinx it, bastard," he bit out as he finally walked away.

"Send her my well-wishes," Okita shouted after him as he retreated.

Saitou waved his friend okay – or away – and headed straight for his car, pissed off with himself. He'd go buy her a very nice, huge get-well-soon basket, to feel like less of an asshole for thinking she was actually avoiding him or she had started going back on that promise to help with the case hence, stopped calling. And poor woman was just too sick to call. He should have gone to see her again, after all.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was not a good state of mind to drive; alright, he could do this. He could definitely do this.

Just as he put the first gear in and tried to start the car, his phone rang; thinking it could be from the hospital, he snatched it up instantly...only to literally throw it in the backseat a second later, seeing it was a number he did not have saved, knowing it was Yaso. Oh boy, this day was not getting any better.

Relax, he commanded himself then, you are a grown man. You can do this.

And he did.

Twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of the nurses' station, in Kyoto City Hospital, with the biggest, most ridiculous gift basket anyone had ever seen, looking for the woman he had spoken with on the phone. When the woman in the reception lay eyes on him, smiled.

"Births are on the sixth floor, sir," a nurse told him in passing, but when he simply shook his head, the nurse there finally spoke. "May I help you?"

"My name is Saitou Hajime; I'm looking for Ishiwaka Haruka, she's expecting me."

The nurse lifted a dubious eyebrow. "Haruka-san is?"

"We spoke on the phone; I'm here for Takagi Tokio."

"Oh!" The woman immediately stood and left her seat. "Yes, sir, I'll go get her right now! Please wait right here."

He nodded, watching her go, perplexed. This woman's reaction was a little...over the top. She was just ill; why was it such a big deal she was alerted so fast? A bad feeling gripped his stomach. Something felt off, but he couldn't tell what. Still, he waited there, as instructed, to see where all this was going. And when he saw Ishiwaka Haruka, a middle-aged, no-nonsense looking woman, come his way hurried and breathless, the bad feeling only worsened.

The fact that she was almost surprised to see the gift that she almost stopped her advance, was another bad sign.

"Are you Saitou Hajime-san?" He nodded; her eyebrow raised, still shooting furtive glances at the basket. "I am Haruka, it's good to see you're here. Would you like to see her?"

"Of course."

They started walking towards the patients' wing, the woman briefing him at the same time. "She just got out of the ICU an hour ago. The doctor who operated on her is here, he's been expecting you."

There it was; his stomach took a free dive to his feet and he stopped walking altogether. He looked at her disbelieving. "ICU? Operated? Why? She was just sick...!"

The nurse blinked. "Pardon?"

"She was sick—that's why she came here, isn't it? It got too much."

"Sir, are you sure we are talking about the same Takagi Tokio?"

He clicked his tongue. "Of course we are; you had her phone, you answered it. It can't be that much of a coincidence, can it? Now will you tell me why she was operated on and when?"

Haruka blanched. "So you have no idea? I...I thought you were a real detective."

"I am," he deadpanned but by now he was internally panicking, almost. Why would they need a detective? "Haruka, I won't ask again. What's wrong with Tokio."

The doctor made an appearance just then; his office was only five metres ahead of them and it was all glass—he saw them approach and met them half way.

"Hello Hajime-san, my name is Saikano Kojima; I'm the doctor who operated on Tokio-san."

"Enough is enough," he snapped, really close to actually snapping "why did she need an operation and where the hell is she? I want to see her."

The doctor gave the nurse a look. "I thought you said he was a detective."

"I am," he repeated with an edge "why do you need one?"

The doctor looked at the basket and then him; he exchanged looks with the nurse. "Am I to assume you are her significant other who happens to be a detective?"

"...I felt bad for making fun of her for her cold," he finally addressed the issue "I overcompensated." As if that was a cue of some sort, everyone started walking. Hajime assumed they were leading him to Tokio. "But I can tell, that's not why she's here; so why is she?"

"...when the ambulance brought her in, she was bleeding profusely; once we provided first aid, she was transferred to Surgery. It took five long hours, but we managed to stabilise her. She remained in the ICU after that, until ten minutes ago, when we deemed her condition not critical."

Then, the doctor sighed, giving Saitou enough time to process the new information as well as warn him for what was about to come. "She was shot three times; the one that was the hardest to tend to was the gunshot wound to the chest, it was very close to the main artery. The other two look bad but aren't as serious—shoulder and calf. She was lucky in a sense, because the bullet didn't hit too much of the bone. Anyway, we managed; and she's strong. Already healing..."

It took everything out of him not to sag and fall under the weight of these news; he felt his body becoming slower and heavier. He wanted nothing more than to see her and make sure she's alive, breathing, holding on; last thing he wanted, at the same time, was see her lying on that bed that he'd watched far too many people end up on, maybe for the same reason even, and in the end, never make it.

Each step was another battle, another dilemma. But every single time, worry won and he kept walking next to the doctor, ahead of the nurse, holding a superfluous gift basket, trying to look as tall as everyone knew he was.

"Due to the nature of the violence inflicted upon her, she's been given a different name as well as description on public file."

"You did very well to keep with protocol; but why didn't you report it? You're forced by law—"

"I'm begging your pardon sir, but I reported this incident myself," the nurse butted in, absolute and nearly furious "not ten minutes after the doctors told us what was going on. Other than the gunshot wounds, she also sported several abrasions and what appeared to be slashes from a big knife, so I personally called to notify the police. I thought that's why you were calling."

Wait a minute; if she'd reported it, say, at one am, a detective had to come no later than two; but according to them, or their reaction anyway, no law enforcement personnel paid a visit, or even took their deposition. If that was the case then this...this was even worse than he thought just a second ago.

"Am I the first detective to show up for her?"

They nodded wildly; his heart lurched in his chest painfully. A terrible thought crossed his mind then and his feet took flight—he had to reach her, get to her room as soon as possible, see her lying there, make sure she was still there, still alive, still healing; praying no one had come for her while these people were having a break to eat or sleep. Because long shifts were exhausting; he knew first hand. It was not unusual to crush on a couch for a couple of hours to pull yourself together, put your thoughts in order...stay away from the blood for an hour or two.

"She's in here," the doctor announced, as he stopped in front of a plain, standard numbered door.

The room was 329; he burned it into memory.

The second it took for the doctor to open the door and the insides of the room to be revealed, Saitou had died and came back to life three times. Holding his breath, he stepped in front of the man and pushed the door open indelicately. When his eyes fell directly upon the sole bed of the room, his heart beat stopped. When he saw that it was still occupied, by the most familiar person, too, his heart beat worked overtime to compensate. And when the repeating, steady beeping of the machines registered in his mind, he exhaled relieved.

Tokio was right there in front of him, lying unconscious on a bed, eyes closed but heartbeat strong. She was alive. Haggard, wounded and pale, needing that thing to provide oxygen for her, but alive.

He walked to her bedside, trying to get a good look, despite his better judgment and all of the alarm bells that went off in his head. Both her hands were wrapped up in bandages; so was most of her torso and her left shoulder; her right leg, too but he only knew because it peaked out underneath the sheet. Her face sported several bruises and her lip was badly cut.

It was time to sit down now; he could feel his legs wanting to give in.

It was so...unheard of to him, to see anyone, especially a woman, he cared about that had nothing to do with his job so beaten, so hurt, so white—white as death, almost. He never really minded hospitals, nor visiting his friends there; he could count the times he had to go to Okita's bedside on not one, but two hands; but it never affected him like this. Even when his sister almost had a miscarriage three years ago and he went to see her, yes he was distressed, but not to the point where he could barely stand or look at her.

Then again, his sister wasn't the victim of an extremely violent attack. If only he could get his hands on the bastards that—...

Oh right; this was connected to their case. Some corrupt bastards needed to pay for this. He took out his phone and stared at the screen again. Ugh, twice in one day that he hesitated calling, although for completely different reasons. He had to call Okita and explain what happened and then have him send only trustworthy detectives to take over the case.

But he just couldn't. He feared what he'd sound like, if he was to call right this instant.

Only this once, timing decided it for him, as well as Okita himself—he was calling! He never really believed in God or what have you, but if this wasn't a sign, nothing was. He picked up after he exited the room.

"Hey Saitou, quick question that once you've answered Imma explain why I asked it: how are things with Tokio?"

His breath hitched a little before answering "terrible." When Okita said nothing, obviously waiting for more, he reluctantly elaborated. "She's not here because she's sick; she's here because she was attacked. Three gunshots and multiple cuts all over her hands and torso."

The explicit language Okita demonstrated found Saitou in total agreement.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because someone in here knew about it."

All of Saitou's hostility came to a peak, right then and there. "I already I know who it is, because I tracked the rumour down before calling you on purpose; long story short, when I told Hijikata why you would not return for the remainder of your shift, he told me to ask Toudou to fill in; when I asked him, there was another one present there and when I explained to him what happened, he, naturally, told everyone. Ten minutes later, the entire precinct is talking about it; another five minutes after, Nagakura comes to me and asks what's wrong with Tokio. I tell him what you told me then and he seems relieved. I ask him why and he says...someone gave him condolences to relay to me and I to you and how they were sorry for your loss, because, apparently, she was killed. Not succumbed to the illness or hit by a car—killed."

"Finish your story, I have something to ask you, too."

"So, I ask Nagakura who he heard it from and how that was ridiculous and he points to Maki; Maki points to Rin and so on so forth...until I deduct, the one who started the rumour was none other than Handa."

"Handa?"

"Oh yes; Handa."

"I see..." Squirrely, timid Handa was involved in this; he wouldn't have guessed. "Now this is what I need you to do: other than keeping a close eye on the bastard, I want you to keep quiet about this and pretend I haven't made it to the hospital yet, because of some reason, make up one. Then go to Hijikata and tell him everything; have him assign someone he trusts with her case, and not me." He sighed. "Then ask him if you can access all the incoming calls to the precinct somehow. Kyoto City Hospital connects with our dispatch, it's the closest. And the nurse taking care of Tokio assured me she reported the incident. Yet no cop or detective have shown up at all—I was the first."

"Someone erased it."

He nodded. "And no one outside the precinct can do that. They have to be there."

"My belief it was Handa is only strengthened, because do you know who he's been flirting with lately?" A smirk came over Okita's lips. "One of our cute, sweet dispatchers. And if he's dirty, it makes sense to want access there."

"Call me once all matters are settled, or if anything more important happens."

He took a breath, ready to say something more, but decided against it.

"What is it?"

"...I'm not confident enough to say it; I'll wait until Handa is interrogated, to reveal who's paying him."

"Say it or you might regret not sharing it earlier."

"...I think at least one of Tokio's bosses is involved." The silence, he could tell, was the stunned kind. "It can't be a coincidence she was attacked immediately after she quit."

"It's been a week though," Okita protested.

"And she's been staying at home where she was frequently visited by friends and family alike, due to her being sick. If yesterday was the first day she actually left her home..."

"God, you're right." Okita's tone betrayed his shock. "I'll make sure to look into it. What are you going to do till then?"

"I'm staying here." There was no question nor need for permission.

"Until when?"

"Until she checks out."

"Saitou, that could be days from now!"

"But if someone isn't here at all times, how do you know she won't be attacked again? If the entire precinct heard of her being in the hospital, it meant it'll reach whoever commissioned this hit, too. They won't hesitate trying again and if she's left alone for too long, they won't even need to shoot her—just a shot will do. Tell Hijikata I'm taking guard duty; if he has any issues with it, he can come talk to me personally here."

"...alright."

"But tell him that after you've gotten permission for the rest."

A short, knowing laugh was shared. "You bet; once I'm done here, I'll come visit her, too so, wait for me, okay?"

"I will."

He hang up and walked back in without delay. He collapsed in the chair next to the bed.

It was three hours later that his cellphone vibrated; he hadn't moved from his spot for the duration of his stay and neither did he now. But, seeing the caller ID wrote Hijikata, he sat up a little straighter. The moment he answered and identified himself, he heard his superior's voice.

"Saitou, how are things on your end?"

"No news, sir; she's still unconscious. The doctor says it could take another hour or day, no one knows. You?"

He tried to sound formal, but the exhaustion seeped into his voice all the same. It wasn't physical, no; it was mental. All the thoughts that circulated his mind, his body, his reason, it drained him.

"About that." Oh no; even Hijikata had to prepare him for the news, by pausing. He greet his teeth. "I have two orders to give you and you must follow both: first is, do not come by the precinct until I personally call you to say otherwise. The other is, you must remain by the lawyer's side until she wakes up at least."

He perked up at that.

"Toudou and Nagakura are taking over her case, once they can actually go."

"Why can't they go?"

"...short version, we are in lock-down. No one's allowed in or out."

They were in what now?"

"We are weeding out the informants once and for all. Just know that by the time this is over, the precinct's gonna be clean. I have to go now."

With those rather good news, his phone rang for the final time.

It was about an hour after that, he finally remembered what he was neglecting: her parents had to be notified, didn't they? And no one called them. He should do it. No matter how unattractive a duty it seemed, he knew it was important. Sighing, because no one had given him hers, he took out his phone and searched the internet for her father's practice. There were bound to be numbers and emails there that he could call. When he did find some, he called the one that was deemed the hardest to find, hoping the line would lead directly to Kojuuro.

He wasn't right but he wasn't wrong either; a middle aged woman answered, after ringing only twice and asked him what he wanted.

"My name is Saitou Hajime; I need to speak to Kojuuro-san immediately. It's an emergency."

"Sir, he's in a meeting with a very important client. Do you mind calling in an hour?"

"Madam, this has to do with his youngest daughter's health; it's a real emergency."

The sharp intake of breath was unmistakable. "Is Tokio-chan unwell?" But then, as if berating herself, she hastened to assure "I'm giving him the line as we speak."

There was a second's delay and then he heard her father. "Sir, this is Saitou Hajime; your daughter is in Kyoto City Hospital, please come as soon as you're able."

"What?"

He could hear him going pale, that's how bad it was. "But we visited yesterday morning and she was fine...!"

"She's not sick; she's been attacked. Please come, sir; your presence will help. The room is on the third floor, number is 329, she's the only patient. I'll be here. Bye for now."

He hung up, taking a deep breath. Alright, he did it, it was out of the way. Now all he had to do was wait for her to open her eyes.

Her parents came about an hour later; her siblings, first time he ever met them, came ten minutes later. The entire core family was in one room, standing over her morose and – some – crying. He decided that four people in one room was too much then and took his leave, standing right outside. Besides, this was for all intents and purposes, a family matter. He'd hate to intrude.

"Hajime," her father walked out of her room, leaving his wife to sob in the company of her children "thank you for letting us know."

Kojuuro might not have been crying, but he was just as bad; Saitou could relate. "How are you holding on?"

"...she's breathing; we'll be fine. We have to be strong for her, too." In a surprising twist, it was her father who put his hand on Saitou's back and hit him twice. "You hang in there, too. It can't be easy for you, either. I know you haven't been together too long but..." He could see; and he respected it.

"The only reason I'm still so together is because, otherwise, I fear something worse could happen," he admitted in a fit of honesty, not caring to correct the misconception at all; as non-committal as he sounded, her father could tell this actually affected him to his very core. He squeezed his shoulder in solidarity.

"We are all still coming to terms with it." They shared a nod. "Why don't you come back inside? You belong in there as much as the rest of us."

"I'll be here for a very long while, sir; my superior agreed to allow me to stay here for her own protection. Until she at least wakes up, I can't leave the room, if she isn't in the presence of someone I trust. Once you leave, because you can't stay too long, I'll go back inside. But not before that—too many people for one room."

"As you wish."

They took forty minutes more; everyone bid him goodbye as they made their exit, gave him thanks and promises to return. Her mother hugged him, too. Well, he couldn't blame any reaction. Everyone dealt with shock and grief differently. At the very least, she was only hurt. She would heal and so would they. So would he.

.

"Hey."

An electric current ran through his entire body, and just as he had leaned back in his chair the small voice urged him forward. His eyes snapped to her in a daze, fearing what he heard was only an illusion, simple wishful thinking, until he saw the little smile, distorted by the oxygen mask. Her eyes were barely open a crack, but they were nonetheless. And her breathing was more labored now, because having consciousness meant there was extra effort put into it. His heart soared as he felt the weight of the entire world shed from his shoulders.

"Hey," he answered right back and made sure to take her hand into his. She tried to squeeze in greeting, but it was too weak. He decided to do it in her stead and by her reaction, she appreciated it.

"Good evening, detective..."

It was hard for her to speak, but she did it anyway. He knew he couldn't persuade her to stop before she got some basic information, so he said nothing about it yet.

"Good morning; it's five am."

"It is?" Her words slurred, one melding with the other. "It feels I've been here longer than five hours, though..."

"You've been in the hospital for twenty nine hours; it's almost Friday."

If her eyes could become any larger without causing her pain, they would have. Apparently, she wasn't expecting that. But then she must have realised something and turned to him in question. "Why are you here then? I thought...you'd be...solving the case by now."

"Don't be ridiculous; I can't possibly work on your case." She gave him a look that needed an explanation. "I work all of my cases with the idea that the one responsible should face justice for his or her crimes; but justice is the last thing on my mind right now."

That last part was said a little darkly, it made her stare...and smile. "Did you know," she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling even more exhausted, but safe "the one who did this tried to pin this on you."

The horrified, offended and completely furious glare that came over his face told her all she needed to know about what he thought of the fact. "Indeed; said something about how whoever's...doing this...doesn't need me anymore. How I served my...usefulness."

"See? This is why I should not be involved. I might snap someone's neck in the process."

She tried to chuckle, but it hurt her. "I didn't believe them Hajime...but...that...only means that someone who knows something about us did is in on...it."

"Enough, Tokio, stop talking. I'll tell you all that I know so far." He took a deep breath. "Hijikata had Handa arrested—Handa was the guy who made sure no detective took your case; they killed him in booking before he spilled names, but the idiot who did, didn't have time to erase the footage of him killing Handa, so we found him, too. Then a fight broke out in the department, people blaming one another and secrets being uncovered. By the time it was eight pm, one third of the precinct was in custody, facing criminal charges."

He took a deep breath and his eyes slid to her. "Some did give up names; and one of the names heard, were none other than Katsu Jonouchi." Her chin nearly fell. "Yes, the one who used to pay your salary. The bastard was in on it—that's why he was trying to take you off the case. He knew it was only a matter of time, if you kept digging. And to think I bowed my head to him, even as a simple formality."

"That asshole...!"

"Yeah; dirty bastard had a whole bunch of cops and mobsters on his payroll." Shaking his head, he pushed back his hair. "The only matter left needing to be solved is who physically performed the deed your boss ordered him to."

"The one who tried to stab me? Who shot me?"

He winced at the sound of that; did she have to say it like that? "Was it just one?" She nodded yes. "Why couldn't he stab you?"

"It wasn't for lack of trying...but mum's a martial artist; taught me how to defend myself since I was...five. Guy didn't stand...a chance. That was why," she yawned impressively "he resorted to shooting." A derisive snort later, she was almost asleep again. "What...a coward...Hajime, will you go?"

How could he? "I'll stay."

"Great," she said through another yawn "just...make sure...Rai's...taken...care...of."

And just like that, she fell asleep again. A warmth spread through him like wildfire and didn't even realise he was caressing her hand until he had to stop so the doctor could take her pulse. He didn't go into the trouble of telling them she woke, even if he definitely should have, because, somehow, all he could see was her. All he could do was hold her cold hand, desperately trying to warm it. But the machines showed a spike that told the attending she must have woken and he came to check; when he confirmed it, the doctor seemed quite pleased with the development.

"We have a spare bed if you'd like to use it," he suggested, feeling sorry for the very tall man who had to make due with a standard hospital chair. "It's in the break room."

"I'm not leaving her," he warned "but thanks for he offer."

In his sleep-deprived mind, even the doctor's legitimate concern sounded like potential grounds for suspicion. Maybe he did need the rest. Once the time read seven, he'd call Okita. He was the only one he could trust with this duty other than himself. Okita would keep her safe for sure.\

Nagakura arrested the man who shot her three days later, an impressive feat, for the man was constantly on the run. At the same time, her former boss, Katsu, gave up more names in order to earn himself a plea or at lest shave time off of his sentence. Meanwhile, Tokio's father was working full time on no other case than his daughter's; he was the one who was going to help the state make the case against this whole crime ring they uncovered and tackle the corruption in her stead. Of course, he didn't scorn prosecuting the lowlife who shot her and despite being pulled in all directions by people, departments – Hijikata was the main pressure, mostly – and governmental authorities, he performed an enviable job.

Yes, given the circumstances and the fact they had so many testimonies, the case became easier. It was no big deal to impeach their financial records, uncover plots for murder or cover-ups, but it still took monumental effort to find all of those things and put them all in one place and then, oh god, in a chronological order to tell a convincing story.

Of course, once Tokio got out of the hospital, a week after she woke up, she took to working the case and helping, too. Naturally, both Okita and Hajime strayed with her and the case, even if they took more cases after their would be last case was over. Hijikata had been very understanding about things, too, and surprisingly, offered his own help if things ever got inaccessible for his two detectives.

The case took three months.

Although Hajime had this idea that Tokio was an impressive lawyer from before, it was only cemented when he watched her sternly talk down people twice her age or size while still bandaged and getting her way on merit alone. That was to say, he was still amazed by her father; he had a way of doing things that just...got things done. It was experience and amassed respect from his peers that were the causes of that, the name he had made for himself. In comparison, yes, he was better than her, but Hajime could easily see Tokio overtaking her father in five years from now. She had a nerve and a got-them attitude Kojuuro didn't; coupled with the fact she basically learnt from him, she would be great.

Once their case was closed, certain things came to an end, too. Hijikata decided it was time to stop their partnership, as far as the police was concerned. Tokio finally made the big decision to go work under her father, a choice she didn't make at first because she didn't want to be coddled or be taken lightly but after that reputation – of being so determined, she got shot – who in their mind would doubt her?

"Hajime, you're being ridiculous," she accused, as she smacked his shoulder; the sharp movement caused her a little pain, too, bone still healing. "I'm fine."

"I saw you wince, you know."

"That's nothing; I'm fine. I said so long ago, didn't I: once I'm feeling entirely well, the first thing I'll do is cook? Well, I'll be cooking; both today and tomorrow. Haven't cooked in ages...!"

"I didn't bring you here so you can shop for ingredients," he retorted, stern "but to get you something to eat, both for today and tomorrow."

Since none of her family could bring her. In fact, this little trip of theirs to the market was the first time he had seen her in a week—the first week she moved back to her own apartment. Once the case was over, he...distanced himself. It was an informed decision, not just an urge. He had taken it very hard, this whole incident; he viewed it as his fault, to some extent, too. She quit because of him, in a sense, and this happened; it was his case, his problem and it led to that.

He positively freaked out and pulled away, yes; he'd accept that. But he could not fathom how that would be bad for her—so far it hadn't caused anything further. Even if she had actually given him a key to said apartment just in case, because, as she'd casually admitted one day, she trusted him. Who better to keep an eye on her or come find her should things go awry again?

"I'm perfectly capable of stirring a liquid!"

"Not yet, you aren't. I'm not blind. I can see how you pause between movements. You don't have to push yourself Tokio." She did not give in; he sighed. "But you never listen, so why start now? Fine, let's go shopping."

Satisfied, she started leading him here and there, while sticking him with all of the shopping bags. They weren't few, too. "What are you gonna do? A charity for the homeless?"

"No, idiot, but I decided to make you dinner!" That was news to him. "As a thanks, for everything." Her smile was sweet and knowing. "And to celebrate the promotion you never told me you got, about a month ago." He tried to speak, defend himself, but the air left his lungs without turning into words. "Sounds familiar?"

"How do you even know about that?"

"Okita told me; a day after you were both promoted." That traitor. "Said our time together would dwindle because of it, but we could still finish the case." She crossed her arms, glaring. "And yet, you never even mentioned anything. Neither did I, I just waited. Figured you'd tell me on your own terms, sooner or later...any day now...and here we are today, a month plus later and I had to tell you I know, otherwise you still wouldn't admit it."

Her glare intensified. "Why?"

He shrugged, trying to change the subject. "It was no big deal. I told you it would happen at some point anyway."

"You once said you could be reassigned to another district, too; would you tell me if you left, or would I just have to guess that, too?"

He was looking away, avoided answering her; she could tell this was making him uncomfortable. But she didn't care. "Anything else of importance you aren't sharing with me?"

"Yaso never stopped calling me."

"Hajime!" She smacked his arm, chin hanging. "Are you being serious?" He nodded. "Wh—why didn't you tell me!?"

"Because, if I were to rank your concerns, being shot, working sleepless nights to catch an entire ring of high ranking corrupt people and concerning yourself with my ex-wife it's obvious which ones take precedent."

"But Yaso is the only one that can be solved immediately. Just...ugh, this is ridiculous. You better come at my house and eat the damn food or I'll give you enough cause to get out two restraining order—this one against me. Get it?"

He couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips; it was nice to see her old self again. "Yes, ma'am."

"And don't you dare make any excuses and not show up tomorrow."

"As you wish...what will you make?"

Her eyes slid to him, dangerous and daring him to say anything about it. "Lamb stew." To his surprise, she pursed her lips. "It's for your promotion, remember?" she almost barked; he pretended to be innocent and unaware. She deemed it satisfactory. "Eight o clock sharp; don't be late."

I might be a little late; Hijikata gave me a new assignment.

That was received at nine in the morning.

I'll try to make it, but I might not. Don't be too mad.

Sent after five.

I'll be late; but I'll make it.

Read seven twenty five.

I'll be very late.

Sent at nine. Seen a moment later.

Tokio sighed relieved, but still anxious. Yes, this was about his promotion but not entirely; in fact, it was all a carefully orchestrated attempt to lure him out of his shell, bring him back to her space. Ever since she got shot, whenever they met, they met strictly at his, or Okita's place. Sometimes, when her father worked with them, they met at his office. He hadn't dared step a single foot in there. Despite clearly being caring, and involved, he started becoming all the more...distant, the more the people's responsible conviction became certain.

Until, two weeks ago, he stopped all communications. Not exactly, though, he'd answer her calls, her texts or check in with her about her health. Once the doctor said she no longer needed any medication or bandages, he stopped checking in completely. She was thick, but not that much. She could tell. And she didn't want this to end like this, she had to do something about it...and this was the solution she found. Guilt him into take her shopping and then bully him into a dinner; he never could say no to her, after all.

And she was not going to lie, that second text got her worried, but the third put her mind at ease again. Of course, when he said he'd be late, she hadn't expected she'd fall asleep on the couch waiting for him, but there she was: she had nodded off twice already and the clock on the wall read eleven.

What a day.

"Tokio...wake up."

The familiar voice pulled her out of her chaotic thoughts; she forced her eyes to open a crack. Hooded with sleep as they were, they could barely make out Saitou's outline, but they did. He was there.

A small smile formed on her lips.

"Mmm, you came..."

"I did."

It could be her imagination but she swore his voice sounded a little different than usual; she couldn't tell what that difference was though, not yet.

"I had to."

She was intrigued by that, but almost closed her eyes as they were, she couldn't properly convey it. She attempted to sit up, but stumbled and fell back down. At least, she finally knew what it was: he sounded soft. Careful.

"What do you..." she stifled a yawn "mean?"

"I'm sorry, Tokio, I haven't been so forthcoming with you." That caused her to open her eyes properly and look at him; he smirked. "But I'll make it up to you."

"What...?"

His hand came to rest at the back of her head and brought her close; at the same time, she watched as he slowly, but certainly, leaned towards her more and more and more...until their lips met.

Alright, she was awake now.

And her body had memory; that jolt of electricity returned, but now it was multiplied by a thousand. Everything tingled and her toes curled again, but the desire was far more potent. His kisses were probing, demanding but soft. His hand descended to her chin, her neck; then her shoulder and sides and she could die from feeling so light-headed. Her fingers had grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer.

When the kiss deepened...she stopped. She tasted something metallic. She broke away from him and touched her lips, making sure the moisture wasn't from her.

"Hajime, are you hurt?"

For a moment, his heart had sank to the pit of his stomach, thinking she was rejecting him, but he found it within him to chuckle. "Why do you ask?"

"I can taste blood—are you alright?"

She reached out blindly, trying to find the light, but he stopped her efforts. "I'll live."

"Hajime!"

Without a second thought, she jumped off the couch and headed for the switch; when she turned on the big lights, she gasped, upon looking at him. "What happened to you?" She rushed to his side, inspecting the bruises on his face, the cuts on his lips, the sling he had his left hand in. "Why aren't you in the hospital?"

"I was; they released me."

"What happened!?"

"...we walked into a trap; the information was insufficient and instead of a drug den, we walked into a terrorist base."

Her breath caught.

"I got the worst of it; Okita is much better...but still hurt."

"Oh Buddha," she lamented as she put a hand on his face as gently as possible, "look at you."

"I've looked worse."

"So have I and lemme tell you, that's not very comforting." He glared at her at that, but she just shook her head. "At least you're here..."

"You did threaten me into it."

"Yes, otherwise you wouldn't have come, but hospital stays are excused...! But don't think I haven't noticed what you were trying to do. Which is why this" she showed herself and him "seems a little surprising."

"You rethink some things when you're staring down the barrel of a gun." Her shock was deemed cute. "Look, I know I've been an ass and I'm sorry."

She raised a flat palm. "I'm not an idiot; I know, or I can tell. You seem the type to do that. But you aren't an idiot either. So, the point is...what do you want?"

"What do I want?"

"What do you want from me? For yourself?"

He regarded her for a very long moment. Nothing slipped by this woman, it was mildly disconcerting. But also, helpful. He smirked.

"I want you; all of you, not just the parts you're comfortable showing to people for a day, or a night, or a week. I want all of it."

She hummed. "It's been a very long time I did any of that, you'll have to be patient with me. And you really have to end this whole thing with Yaso."

He nodded I know wearily. "I'll talk to her as soon as we're both able, I'll clear things up."

"Perfect. So, do you still want to eat or not? The food's ready."

"I'm starving! Of course I do; that's why I'm here anyway," he teased in the end, as she was already walking to the kitchen, to avoid any forms of aggression "for the food."

"Oh is that so?" He stayed away until she had retrieved the food from within the over and her hands were full to come closer. "Then I'll just wrap it up for you and send you on your way."

"I'm here now, though; it would be a waste of money and time."

She threw him both mittens in succession, the moment she let the thing down. "Wait," she had an epiphany "how did you get here?"

"Took a cab."

"Thank Buddha. I feared you decided to drive instead." She shook her head. "Both you and the lamb are staying the night." She have him a look. "Especially the lamb."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Fair enough; I'll set the table." The are-you-sure stare she sent him, he scoffed at it. "One arm is in a sling, just one."

"Alright. By the way," she continued after a moment's pause "I hope you're free this Sunday. Mum invited you to lunch."

"Oh?" He looked over his shoulder. "How so?"

"They all still think we are together since November, so, long overdue, I suppose..."

"I'll be there."

"Great."

They sat down to eat, next to each other; he attempted to avoid revealing any sort of sensitive information about the raid he participated in, while dodging incriminating answers to her never-ending questions about how in God's name he ended up like that. It was a long night...but, at least, the food was delicious.

.

"Tokio, are you ready?"

"I'm looking for my purse."

"It's on the table."

"My other purse, obviously." He rolled his eyes; of course she was. How could he make such a mistake? "Found it~!"

"Perfect; hurry it up now..." When she emerged, and he noticed her finger, he glared. "What did I tell you about the ring? Take it off."

"But it's my ring!"

"Yes, but not yet, not officially. Now take it off and give it to me."

"I don't want to," she complained, pouting, and looked at said ring on her finger. It was a simple platinum band, that formed intertwining vines close to the centre piece, which was a small, tasteful round sapphire. "Look how pretty it is."

"I know, that's why I chose it; but you have to take it off," he waved the ring box in her face "we talked about this."

"No, we didn't; you just mumbled something about Okita and your mother and fell asleep."

"What I said was, Okita said he'd kill me if I proposed a second time without him being present, as well as my mother would kill me if she found out I proposed in lieu of her, after flying her out for ring shopping a week earlier."

"Then you shouldn't have given it to me yesterday!"

"But you're a master interrogator."

"You kept the ring in the nightstand," she deadpanned "how difficult a decision was it really?"

"Well, it felt natural; but they'll still kill me if they find out. This will be our little secret."

She shook her head. "What a child..."

"Just take it off, it has caused me enough headaches." At her questioning look, he snorted. "I almost fought with your father over this ring, too."

That was news to her. "Why?"

Saitou averted his eyes. "He said the ring wasn't as good as it could have been."

Her laughter was boisterous. "Let me guess, he wanted a ring with a stone five times the size of this one." His distaste was all the answer she needed; she laughed again. "Dad's terrible at picking out jewelry; he think ostentatious means you care...that's why I never ask him for something. I pick it out and ask him to buy it for me. He has a bad record. Ask mother."

"He even suggested to cover the difference." He snorted, as she covered her mouth, trying to keep herself quiet. "I told him I don't need help; and even if I did, I'd never ask him—the bride's father. That's just bad manners."

"This ring is perfect," she added in the end and looked at it once more.

"You bet it was; I did pick it out myself."

"You have exceedingly good taste, Hajime," she complimented, planting a lingering kiss on his lips. "I have no complains." Her hands slithered around his neck, but right before they connected, he slapped them away.

"Behave; Okita will be over in ten minutes."

"Hmm, but what if he's late?"

She tried kissing his neck, climbing on her tiptoes, but he avoided her once more. "He'll be here in ten minutes; he's already five minutes late as it is."

"You're no fun...!"

"Just take the ring off before he rings the bell."

"You put it on my finger, you take it off."

When she actually extended her hand separating the fingers, he realised she was not, in fact, joking. "What a brat," he moaned but did it. "Now go put on your coat and shoes and we're gone." He put the ring in the box and pocketed the whole thing. "We can't be late."

"Hajime, Okita isn't even here yet."

"We'll wait by the car."

"Two years; two years! Why can't we ever leave without you rushing me, just once?"

"Two years and we can't ever go anywhere without you almost making us late."

"Hajime, we're never late; just because we aren't half an hour early, doesn't mean we're late."

"Yes, it does." She threw him the pump she was about to wear but instead of dodging it, he actually caught it in the air. "Throw me the other one so I can wrestle you into them."

"Don't tempt me...!"

The bell rang just then, as if to finish the argument. "Okita is here." He said it in a very smug tone; she did throw the other shoe in the end. "You put these on as I let the man in."

"Don't let the man in; you bring yourselves out," their guest's voice was heard from behind the door. "I can hear you through the door, yes; hurry it up, I don't wanna be late to the lunch where both of your families finally meet for the first time, too."

"Let's just go," Tokio gave in, finally both pumps on. "Rai, you're coming, too." The dog barked happily from the couch, tail wagging. "You'll keep Okita company in the backseat."

"I heard that, too!" he protested.

"You were meant to!" she shouted back.

"Besides," Saitou snapped as he pulled the door open and let everyone through "what's wrong with my dog, asshole?"

"Our dog," she corrected.

"Let's just go..." Okita shook his head.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Saitou snapped as he locked the door.

"Every single time we have to be somewhere, I swear..." Tokio mumbled at their bickering and Saitou's mood. "Yes, yes, you locked the door only a thousand times, we can leave now." He shot her the look; she chuckled. "I love you, but you're paranoid."

"You've been shot on more than one occasion so don't give me that."

"The second time doesn't count...!"

"Yes, it does," both men chorused as they all made their way to the car; hearing the commotion, Rai barked, too.

"Traitor."

"Oh, before we go," Okita remembered, giving his friend a shrewd look "did you remember to take the thing?"

Tokio tried very hard not to smile; Saitou smirked. "I did; thanks. The thing's with me."

"What's the thing?" Tokio decided to play dumb.

"You don't need to know everything," Okita put an end to it summarily. Rai barked, as if to confirm him.

"Well, if Rai says so, too..." Tokio gave in and smiled.

Okita was a good friend; Rai was a good dog. Hajime was a good man. Her life was on a good track.

A/N: Yass, this puppy is finished. Hope it did in a satisfying manner to you all. Leave a review, tell me what you thought. And once I update my other fic, a new AU is coming right up. It's quite unexpected, but that one grew on me while I wasn't looking.

Love, FAI~!