It was over.

Those were the three words that filled Ken's mind on his way through the town. He drove without his hood on, without fear, without paranoia.

It was over.

It sure was.

He felt light, free, absolved of the weight on his shoulders. It was such a pleasant disruption and spoke volumes at how long it had been since he lived as a free man. JP, prick that he was, had been a man to his words. Ken didn't trust the old cocksucker further than he could throw him so it fueled some sense of perverse frontier justice when his mental molestation of Juri ended with the arena raised by MI6 and Interpol.

In the scuffle, Ken never managed to find out what happened to JP while he was apprehended by the police – after making them promise that they'd care for the unconscious Juri. They took her somewhere and Ken took her bike back to base.

He thought of her during the days in jail.

Of the warmth of her tongue licking his lips.

Of laughing at the dark jokes she'd make.

Of the ways, she'd call him by whatever name started with Ken.

He parked the bike outside the building and headed inside until he stood in the apartment. The door to the balcony stood open and he could feel a gentle breeze coming from it. And outside, looking over the town, stood Juri. Like an angel waiting for him. Ugh, it felt so good seeing her after this. Quietly, Ken snuck towards her until he could wrap his arms around her and feel her stir in his embrace.

"It's over," he said calmly and nuzzled his nose against her hair, thinking of how he could do this without worry, without fear, thinking of the mornings he'd wake up with her by his side.

"Congrats," Juri uttered softly. She remained where she stood while they lingered in the quiet. A strange feeling eroded Ken when he pulled back.

"You okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked while he reached for her hand to lift it and kiss the back of her palm.

Somehow, it annoyed her, and she pulled her hand back to curl into herself. The sight of it was far more upsetting than Ken could articulate. The words she'd say were like stabs to the gut.

"I'm leaving," she said with a sigh barely louder than a whisper. Like the world would explode if she raised the volume.

The feeling that hit Ken was like a bolt through his thigh. That same awful feeling as the day when his life changed irrevocably. He swallowed the litany of ramblings welling up through a sea of internal panic and settled for a simple; "Why?"

Without even looking at him, Juri answered. "You got your kid. You got your friends. You got your life back. You're free of the evils of the world. And me. So…"

"But I enjoy you being here too," he objected and tried his damn best not to sound shrill. But desperation was one hell of an awful feeling.

"Eliza doesn't. She's right when she says she can smell the blood off me. How I'm a homewrecker. I'd just ruin your life. Peace and stuff, I don't belong in it," she said, watery of her usual cadence.

Ken sighed deeply through his nose and thought she was wildly overestimating her own fallacies. His heart broke a little on her behalf.

"That's not true, Juri."

For a moment, he wished he had the rudeness to turn her around just so she would look at him. See the eyes of the man whose heart she was breaking. Instead, she cringed, then dropped her shoulders, snickering to herself. "…I'm a wreck. A fuck-up. A bitch. A monster. And that's fine. That's what I deserve. But you deserve better."

What happened during the days Ken was gone? He tried very hard to keep himself composed but he stood outmatched against his own heartache and the feeling of the world crumbling around him – again. He breathed out reluctantly and tried to search for answers.

"Did JP-"

"No. He did not. Realizations were just made," Juri answered a little too fast for it to feel genuine. But she shuffled past him, anyway, heading inside to get a multitude of packed bags from the bedroom.

She was deadest on leaving.

For a moment Ken thought he'd make a fool of himself and start crying. The urge was there. The burn came. It lingered. His throat hurt. It almost did him in when he caught a glance at Juri's face. Hot and blotchy. Wet. Tired and unhappy, standing at its breaking point after days of unhappiness.

"There's nothing I can say to make you stay?" Ken asked and his voice cracked.

"…No. Do yourself a favor and forget about me."

"What the fuck? That's not fair, you know?" his protest came out sticky and raw, grainy through a wry laugh.

"…Neither is me being here."

To who? To fucking who?

He wanted to scream those words at her. Hurl every desperate, dense, panicked animalistic thought at her. After all they had been through, this was how it ended. But when Juri looked at him, he saw an expression of pure, brittle stability. Lips stretched thin, eyes glossy, left pupil cloudy, battered to hell and back. Ken drifted into defeat and all words fell to a quiet. Before she was out the door, he missed her already.

The day passed in a crawl.

It was over.

Ken hated that phrase – but it was. The apartment felt too large for him alone so his tenure here was over as well. Everything reminded him of Juri. All her things were gone but the scent, the jar of lollipops, and the pickled chilis in the fridge were all her. And so, Ken gave in to the sting of tears. He sat by the table, cursed his own weakness, let the drops all to the table, and hung his head low.

He lost track of time until he counted to ten and just let go, floating in stranger tides. He shuddered, scrubbed his eyes, and steadied himself, just when the door to the apartment opened and he didn't have time to get his hopes up.

"You okay?" Eliza asked and took a seat on the other side of the table.

No.

Mel stared at him, standing between the two, and narrowed his eyes when his father answered with a practiced smile. "Yeah. My name was cleared. I'm free of it."

"Really? That's awesome, Dad!" the young man rounded the table and practically leaped into a hug.

On the other hand, Eliza was more tepid with a hesitant smile resting on her face. "I'm happy for you, Ken."

"Thanks."

"What will you do now?"

That question caused Ken to flinch, hands clenching into themselves, watching the curious gaze of Eliza, watching the hopeful stare of Mel. He probably wasn't ready to mentally process such a question, but he tried anyway.

"I'll…find myself somewhere new to live. I'm getting real sick of this country anyway."

"Good," Eliza nodded. "I have your things in a storage unit too by the way."

"You won't live far away, right?" Mel asked.

Despite wincing, Ken smiled, feeling a tiny hitch of reassurance at the revelation that Mell still wanted his father back.

"I'll try to stay in the area."

And then silence as he remembered that he'd be alone this time. He swallowed hard, at both that reality and the lingering memory of Juri. He'd never know why she left. He began to wonder if somewhere along the line, he was in the process of making one big mistake.

"Did I make you happy? Ever?" he asked a little hoarsely. He rubbed his jaw, uncomfortable with his own skin, uncertain of his own identity.

"Yes, you did," Eliza answered with such honest melancholy not mirrored in Ken's nod. It was soothing as it was aching. "Things were good."

Were good. Yes. Horrible yet assuring to hear. A band-aid on the open wound that wasn't ready to close and heal. Despite the choices Ken made, the risks he took, and the things and people he destroyed, he did his best. Even now in the twilight of the man, he once was.

"I hope you forgive me and understand me then," Eliza said gently, reaching across the table to rest her hand over his. "Mel, it's important you hear this too."

Mel's eyes narrowed and he leaned over the table with a serious look in his eyes. When he stood there, Eliza pulled her hand away.

"I'm issuing a no-contact rule," she uttered, poised and graceful. Without stuttering, without emotion. Sure in the weight of her words. She looked at the tabletop, then briefly lifted her gaze to meet Ken's before retreating again. "I'll let you pick your things up but I think it's best if we…move on separately."

For far too long, he just sat there and observed, mulled, contextualized, reformed, and reshaped what she had said. Trying in vain to believe that she hadn't just cut him out of their lives. And then the truth set in. It was a terrible truth, he now had to deal with and he felt it snap at something within him. The world was tumbling into chaos again.

On behalf of the rage, Ken should have possessed, Mel straightened himself and glared at his mother. "What? What the fuck, Mom?! After everything-"

"Don't you swear at me, young man," Eliza snapped her gaze to her son, tone leveled, words sharp, body poised. "I am your mother."

"And he's my dad!" Mel bit back. "Why are you doing this?"

'Why' was the question echoed in Ken's single hard stare as his heart constricted all over again.

"Your father is a different man than you remember him to be. It's too much. Too many changes. This has been nightmarish. I can't handle this, not anymore. And some changes aren't for the better," Eliza shook as she spoke and it was as if all the fear, the instability, the whatever inside was beginning to bubble over.

Ken felt tugs of anger, tugs of sympathy. It had broken her too, but she'd not know what pressure was if it hit her in the face. Not like him. Not like the horror he had endured. So he steeled himself and sat back in his chair with a leveled response. "So because people screwed me over, you're taking it out on Mel and me."

As if someone had flipped a switch, Eliza's mood snapped from guilt to anger. "Don't go there, Ken. I'm doing this for his sake. I do not want our family to go through this hell again. Need I remind you, I almost died!"

When she put it like that, his heart ached for her. But he could still feel gasps of anger simmer inside. At least he could think about what he wanted to say, even if he was drowning in an ocean of his own hopeless despair without anywhere to swim to.

The irony of fighting so hard, only for said motivations to kick him to the curb struck him. So tragic, it forced him to laugh, hollow as he felt.

"If I had a coin for every threat of death that has hung over my head since the beginning of this, I could buy a private island. I put myself through hell, I gave myself scars, I worked with immoral scoundrels. I endured brutality and corruption at the hands of corrupt police officers and circus clowns. I've seen things that'd keep you awake at night. I saw people die in the most gruesome ways. And you know what kept me going? The thought of you two. Even if you left me, Eliza, even if you hate me, Mel, I wanted you both to know that I am still me. I'm not the monster the world thinks of me. I missed you with everything I had."

Eliza listened and absorbed every word and shuddered with how they settled in her body, fighting back tears or at least it looked the part. Her eyes were dry however and the nod she did was slow and poised. Ken suspected it was her way of standing her ground but accepting his explanation, all the sacrifices he had made, the emotionally wrought mess he had made of himself. She wanted nothing of it anymore. She too was shattered in some way.

He became acutely aware of this when she wetted her lips and responded with a quivering voice. "I'm so sorry, Ken. But you have to understand-"

Mel pushed himself off the table, voice shrill, eyes wet. His transparent outburst painted a sharp contrast between the dignified struggle of his mother and the quiet hurt of his father. "There's nothing to understand, Mom. You're being unfair. After everything, how can you do this?!"

Ken, cruel against his own heart, indifferent to his own sanity, understood how. He saw it in Eliza's eyes. But he was too battered to open his mouth to calm his son and tired, so very tired. Tired of it all. Tired of losing.

The world lived to disappoint, and Ken lived to be a disappointment. He closed his eyes with a quiet sigh while Mel stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door after himself. The impact echoed through the common room and probably disturbed a few unsuspecting neighbors.

It broke Eliza's nerve then and she burrowed her face in her hands.

"I'll go talk to him," Ken assured her, conveniently sinking into the comfort of getting away from her for a bit. It helped that he could focus on a final farewell to his son.

Mel sat under the bridge, curled into himself with his head between his knees. Ken didn't try to call for him; his heart was too busy aching. Instead, he crossed the bridge and skipped down its banks until he could sit next to the young kid.

Gingerly, he wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders. "Hey, bud-"

Mel quickly rejected him, pushing his father away with fast, unfocused shoves that left him tipping over and almost falling into the river. He jumped to his feet, staring death and murder at his own father.

Naturally, Ken thought. Didn't do much against the hurt still.

"Why, Dad? Why?! Why the hell didn't you say anything?! How can you let her do this?! You leave and don't come back while I constantly have to hear people drag you through the mud. Why couldn't you have stayed and told me something, told me anything?! This sucks, this…" Mel ended his rant by curling into a ball and pressing his hand against his face, weeping softly like he'd done when he was a toddler.

No longer a little kid, he had grown into his mother's poised tendencies, always composed, always dignified. All in his own admirable way. The boy riddled with heartache that had taken his place was a byproduct of how ruthless the world could be. How it took its denizens and molded them into unrecognizable shapes.

Maybe this too was part of the narrative.

Ken wondered if it had been a secret agenda for JP as well. Break his nerve as well as his family's. If so, good fucking job.

Raw, too raw however.

Ken tried reaching for Mel again, winding an arm around his shoulders to pull him close and this time, it worked like a charm. They remained like that while Mel's sobs turned soundless and amounted to little more than gentle twitches, while the unspoken goodbye lingered.

"Are you mad?" Mel asked without pulling away. His voice was naturally grainy and shaky.

Ken sighed through the entire emotional spectrum. First angry, then guilty, then utterly miserable. Putting that into words was hard, he realized as he tried.

"I'm heartbroken, son. It feels like a kick to the teeth. It hurts so much, you won't believe it. I wanted your mother to know the sacrifices that I made and why I made them. But I understand why she chose this. It hasn't exactly been easy for your mom either. I can see it on her face that it changed her like it did to me. It broke something inside. She's a different woman now. She's been hurt. The car bomb was the straw that broke the camel's back. She wants to move on and quite frankly, so do I."

"So will I never see you again? Is that it?" Mel asked, placid with depressed acceptance that took his father's heart and tore it into pieces.

"There's this old saying that time heals all wounds. It's bullshit because people don't always work like that. But I think, in this case, there's some truth to it. You're angry now, but when you get older, you'll come to understand that what your mom did was for your sake. And hers. When you're older you can choose if you want to forgive your mom for her decision or me for leaving."

Mel wiped his face clean. Didn't do much for the red blotchiness and the wet eyes. "Maybe."

Whether or not he'd forgive Eliza was a battle they'd have to take.

"When you're ready, you know where to find me," Ken offered for the pleasure of watching his son melt an inch with the smile that formed on his face.

"Where?" the hope in his eyes spoke volumes.

Ken leaned close to whisper in his ear but wasn't quite sure of what to make of Mel's transparent confusion.

"Really? I mean, Mom isn't a fan of that place and…"

No, Eliza had always disliked that place for its aesthetics. Which is why Ken often went there alone. He had long since been okay with that, feeling at home in its surroundings. If his mind wasn't eroded by the time he left Nayshall, going there would do him some good.

But…

"No but it's where I'll be," Ken said. "It means a lot to me. Here's to hoping it means a lot to you."

They sat then and reminisced, recapturing moments from the past. Of the time when Mel was three and wanted to follow the ways of the Ansatsuken and be trained by his father. How it ended with a punch to the crotch. They remembered the time when they had been playing video games together instead of Sunday cleaning to the point where Eliza scolded them both.

It was a nice goodbye.

And as the afternoon sun slowly descended behind the mountain range, Ken looked at his son, cataloging his every emotional response. Something to soothe the old memory bank in case, on the very large off chance he'd lose his son for good.

"Will you promise me something?" Ken asked into the growing dimness.

"What?" Mel tilted his head, swallowing when two hands landed on his shoulders with a firm grip.

"Always be good to your mother. Protect her where I failed to," Ken looked into his eyes and saw Eliza. Saw himself. Saw someone who could do better. And he smiled.

Mel met his father's gaze and nodded as his mouth turned up a bit. His eyes wettened again but he understood.

For the final time, he understood completely.

It smelled of them. The whole apartment smelled of them. And it smelled of Juri. Phantoms of scent. Ghosts of shattered dreams. Such thoughts did unkind things to the mind.

So, alone for the first time again, Ken slept lightly, a self-destructive escape forming in his heart. It grew ever stronger in the next three days while he isolated himself. He should stop wallowing. He had friends. He had people happy on his behalf. He had his freedom.

Yet he had a hard time anyway.

He thought of Eliza, he thought of Mel. He thought of them forcing themselves to move on. He thought of climbing trees and having sparing matches with Ryu by the cliffs. He thought of hair days with Guile, ramen with Chun-Li, donating to animal shelters for Cammy.

He thought about what a burden he'd be for them. How they were better off without him.

He thought of Juri. Moments in time mostly. Shapes of her. Visions. Impressions. Her absolute bluntness. The feeling of her body tugged close to his, hands splayed across his skin. The looks curious glances she'd throw when she thought he wasn't looking. The underlying sweetness to her that she probably wasn't aware of herself.

Alone in the bed that felt too large, Ken lay curled into himself, overcome with how empty everything felt. How the world grew colder. How the dark loved whispering dangerous nothings in some gloomy corner of his mind.

Reminding himself of Mel, of a possible reunion did absolutely nothing. Ken wanted to hope but he had learned the hard way that having expectations left him open for pain. And he generally just felt numb these days.

So he slept into it. Slept into the darkness of his mind. Slept and embraced hopelessness.

Accepted the crumbling of his mind.

The day began with a cloudless sky and bright sunlight that he opened his eyes to. It peered through the curtains and filled up the room as Ken turned to the ceiling. It was early, peaceful, and quiet and he was thankful to be alone. Left to the serenity with nothing but the voice in his head compelling him to oblivion, he staggered out of bed, puttering around in silence.

He dressed and headed for the bathroom to stare at his reflection. Dark rings were imprinted under his eyes, dim under vibrant blue and it occurred to him how ragged and old he looked. He shaved until the skin on his face was smooth. He considered dyeing his hair blonde again. He'd do it himself this time. The thought remained nothing more than a thought under the memory of Juri doing it for him. He wished he could have told her the three magic words. Told her how much he adored her.

It didn't matter now. Ken swallowed the admission down to the abyss and splashed water on his face.

Once in the common room, he took a binder, a pen, and several pieces of paper to write letters. It was like pouring all his mountainous thoughts out until nothing remained. It filled him with desolate peace.

In the letters he wrote to his friends, his family, his love, he never gave a reason why. He just said the words he wished they could have heard earlier and left the stack on the table under old family pictures and a random doodle from Juri.

The sound of his pen no longer scratching filled the room with silence. A deafening quiet as his body moved of its own accord, headed for the door for the last time. He locked the door behind him and put the key under the mat.

No bike, so he was reliant on public transportation. The train came quickly, and Ken entered, thankful that it was completely empty. He took a seat closest to the exit and rested his head against the window. Avid, tired eyes took in the scenery zooming by, the morning mist, the world vanishing behind a blur.

The sun was low and full; glorious, his bleary self concluded as the train reached the station near the beach.

By the sandy shore, Ken stood alone. It was out of season for any bathing so he could take in his solitude in peace. He took off his shoes and socks and then walked to the waterline so he could feel the waves lick at his skin. He took his jacket and tossed it to the sandy pebbles. The sun continued to beam down on him to the point where his eyes ached from the glow. On the horizon of the rippling water, he saw a Fata Morgana of what his life could have been.

And he started walking.

After a minute or so, Ken felt the water flood his feet and soak the legs of his pants. He felt the tug of Mel pulling at the rim of his shirt. He felt Eliza rest her palm against his back. He felt Juri's hands, warm and solid rummage through the hairs on his head. He felt Ryu's fist bump.

He felt the pull from the ghost of himself, the man he used to be standing on the horizon. Young, brash, long-haired. Red ribbon. Not a husband. Not a father. Not alone. The voice from this phantom was clear as the sun was bright.

'Welcome back,' the phantom said. 'It all comes full circle. It all comes down to freedom. You're free of it now.'

Yes, he was. Ken breathed in the distinct scent of ocean, aided by the gentle sway of the waves. Freezing yet inviting, rising steadily until it reached his thrapple. Lifting his weight off his feet, guiding further into its depth. Like a child coming home to the call of his mother, Ken continued walking, embraced by welcoming warmth. Embraced by serenity when his head went underwater.

In the depths, he found himself, staring up at the surface of the water. He didn't remember how far he had been walking or swimming when the alternation began. In the depths of the frigid ocean, he felt strangely warm. He felt okay, sinking deeper and closing his eyes to the growing darkness.

On the other side, it would all be okay.

In the brief second before Ken woke up, he thought he had reached the afterlife. He imagined it would be something soothing and gentle. Like a warm bed and a hug.

It wasn't. Quite opposite in fact.

His body ached from the inside out, sore and tired like something had wrung his innards like a tea towel. Exhaustion dulled the pain a bit. He closed his eyes again, imagining he'd see light. Instead, there was little more than dim evening glows around him. And in his blurry haze, he saw Juri.

By the side of the bed, she sat curled up in the chair with her head between her knees. The smaller horns on her head almost obfuscated her identity but the streaks of pink hair and teal nail polish did not.

Despite the heaviness of his body, Ken lifted his arm to reach out for her, just to feel that it was her, that she was really here. It was a relief when his hand landed on her shin and palmed her calf. Just faintly but certainly warmth seeped through her pants. She jittered at the touch and lifted her head, eyes dreary from her nap.

Teal and purple. One cloudy. Filled with relief, then anger.

She jumped from the chair and leaned over the bed, her bangs dangling from her hairline. Two hands landed on each side of Ken's head, clutching the sheets so hard, she could rip them to shreds. "Don't say a fucking word or I will give you something to cry about."

She was lovely when she was angry.

"…Sorry…oops," Ken uttered against the pain of simply speaking. The ache was worst in his throat.

The apology landed perfectly. It disarmed her and her body settled into softness. Despite the darkness, he could see the wetness in her eyes. She dragged the chair closer to the bed, then reached for his hand to join them together, fingers intertwined.

"Where?" Ken asked, weighing each word against his bodily capabilities.

"Local hospital," Juri answered, similarly curt. It said quite a lot about their relationship when she pinpointed the specifics of his question and responded accordingly.

"For how long?"

"A day, I think. They found your stuff on the shore and called me because I was favorited on your contact list."

That last bit made him smile as it made him guilty with realization. A musing silence gathered in the room while Juri squeezed his hand, holding it between the both of hers.

"Why?" she asked, soft and wounded. Unhappy and tired but not angry. At least not anymore. It would be the hardest question to answer but she deserved the truth for simply putting up with Ken.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I forgive you and all but I'm not asking for an apology," she brushed a hand through Ken's hair, nestled firmly in black strands.

"No, it's not okay. I-I lost my mind, I think. It all just…snapped."

In the pause, Juri said nothing. She probably had nothing to say, she who understood what events would lead to this.

"You know, Eliza issued a no-contact rule. That included Mel. Cut me out of their lives completely. You can imagine how Mel kicked up a protest over that," those words hurt Ken physically as they did emotionally. Hearing them echo from him with their truths and consequences was like a slap across the face. It hurt his heart as it hurt his throat. Worse than his life being reduced to collateral.

"What happened?" he changed the subject then.

A sound sigh came from Juri. She lifted herself to sit on the edge of the bed and stretched her legs at impossible angles. "Some fishermen found you floating in the water."

"And then what?"

"They pumped the fuck outta you."

Ah. That would explain the pain.

The vision of how horrific that must have looked was a pleasant but soon imperceptible interference from the hole that grew inside Ken's chest.

Without warning he found himself wracked with sobs, burning and hitching in his heaving chest. He hadn't cried like this, pathetic and ugly since his parents' deaths. Hot tears rolled down his temples, searing a salty trail into his skin. He wiped his face with the back of his hand but it was futile. It was like a dam had been breached. Juri's silence was comforting. She sat and stared at him, looking like her heart had been broken in two on his behalf.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I don't know where to go from here. I don't think you want to hear me bitching about that though," Ken laughed with gloom, interspliced with his boyish sobs.

Juri huffed, heavy and moody as she leaned forward, cupping Ken's face to press their foreheads together for a moment. When she lifted herself, he covered his eyes with his forearm with a weak, grainy whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Stop fucking saying sorry. I forgive you already," she moved his arm from his face and sighed, gearing herself up for a speech of her own. "It should come from me anyway. The old coot dug so deep into me that I felt so gross about myself. Didn't want you to see what was inside of me. You know, JP took Bison's murder of my parents and drilled it into my mind. Killed you, killed the others. Fucked up people like me don't deserve good things. It was easier to just dip instead. Hell, even called Eliza a cunt to her face. But dipping meant abandoning what was precious to me. And then this happened. Can't catch a fucking breaking, huh?"

"No, I can't guilt you into putting up with me because of my insanity," he shook his head. "You deserve the world, dear."

"You never guilted me, you goober," Juri ran her thumbs up and down Ken's temples, collecting tears. Momentarily, she lifted her hand to taste them. It was so obscene but so uniquely her that he almost laughed. "I like the time I had with you. I just took it for granted. You don't really realize how much something or someone matters until they are no longer there. Even if that someone deserves better than you."

"Fuck better," Ken objected, still weeping. "I don't want better. God, I've missed you so much. Don't bother saying sorry, I forgive you. I accept all of you."

This caused Juri's breath to hitch. Her eyes widened an inch, and she stole a glance at her lap as she responded. Like she really, really just wanted to make sure she was wanted. Of course, she was. "…So clean slate? I'm getting real sick of Nayshall anyway and I thought of living somewhere else."

Ken calmed down just a bit at that, sniffling with a hesitant smile. He closed his eyes against the residue burn. "That sounds nice."

"Fuck yeah, it does! We could skip this stupid country and hell, this region entirely," Juri grinned, ecstatic at the idea. Marred by a little fear that Ken may say no, may go back for more punishment from the woman who left him.

There would be no such thing. Ken had nothing to go back on. He still felt like such a weakling for submitting so easily to the promise of something filling that void by trying to take his own life. A clean slate, to pick up the pieces of what had once been there was a better choice when the alternative was almost too overwhelmingly bleak to consider.

"Okay," Ken answered, relief filling his broken body. Juri saw the acceptance and her entire being softened like a pudding. She so rarely smiled with tenderness but when she did, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Gingerly she clambered into the bed with him. It was only meant for one person, but she was a slender being and her body was conservative in the space it took, mindful of the IV drip in Ken's hand. Her belly did feel a little more plumb than usual.

In the dimness, they looked at each other and it occurred to Ken how exhausted Juri looked. She had taken it upon herself to carry all her pain alone for many years. All the weight pressed her down without stopping. Ken wanted to bear it for her. He brushed some of the bangs away from her face and tugged them behind her ear. For his efforts, she craned her neck to lick his lips.

"I love you," Ken whispered, not quite as graceful as such a confession required. "I'm sorry I've never said it."

By the way her cheeks flushed, those words weren't ones she was used to hearing. Her eyes twitched with the urge to look away but stuck to meet his gaze.

"I know. Actions speak louder than words," she replied softly after a long pause but the gleam in her eyes suggested that the wounded animal inside of her didn't know in fact. Not for certain at least.

Ken felt himself bubble at the honor of witnessing her esoteric vulnerability, earning her trust to see such a thing. "I know as well. But I want you to know that I love you."

The ensuing silence caused her cheeks to flush harder and this time she looked down at his chin. She breathed hard through her nose to steady herself for this experience, this dance with words. One of those delicate tender things she admitted to sucking at. It was as new for her as it was familiar to Ken.

"Thank you. And I…love you too. Now, you understand that I do."

"No need to thank me. It's the truth. I have the freedom to say it now."

"Geez, so sappy," Juri chuckled at that, her eyes coming to a close. Her breath fell lightly from her, so she was still awake even if she looked to be on the verge of sleeping. She shuddered when Ken leaned close to kiss the top of her head.

Outside the door, footsteps walked down the hallway with dull muted echoes that reminded Ken that they weren't just in whatever bubble of the universe they found themselves in.

Metro City, Hong Kong, Nayshall…

And still, it felt like the world had gone mute and it was just them.

Something about the clinical sound reminded Ken of Mel's birth, how the afternoon sun had thrown its amber glow through the wide windows, how serene the room had been when he looked at his son for the first time. The babe was in good hands, but he was still at the mercy of his world. Vulnerable to its cold indifference. A child who couldn't protect himself. Ken felt a lot like that newborn now. His heart ached for the son he had lost when he thought of him.

It would never stop aching.

But maybe when he was older…

Juri's voice reminded Ken of the present. "I've always wondered what it'd be like living in Japan."

"It's a great place. You might not know this but I'm three-quarters Japanese. I think it'd make a nice home."

Home. It had a clear ring to it now. It was beginning to take shape. Growing like a blossom.

Home.

"The nurses are outside by the way. I'm not supposed to be in here but out there in the waiting room. Snuck in when they weren't looking," Juri added with a yawn.

"I'm glad you're here. With me," he whispered, drawing circles on her cheek with his thumb. He meant that in more ways than one.

Juri wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, swallowing hard before her eyes snapped upwards to meet his.

"By the way, there's something I should tell you."