Yuki eyed the auburn-haired woman introduced to him only as "Manx" incredulously.

"You expect me to swallow a story like that?" he asked in tones of reproach and scorn, stubbing a cigarette to an early death in the ashtray. "That's dumber than anything I've ever cooked up for any of my novels!"

Manx met his gaze evenly, her delicate but hard features betraying nothing. "You can take it or leave it," she said, offering him a smile that did not reach her eyes. "But that is the best I can offer you."

"Hn." Yuki grasped his nearly empty cigarette pack, toying with it but not taking out a new smoke. The ashtray was close to overflowing as it was, though most of the butts had been there before he started. "Even if I were to accept it as true, you haven't given me enough information," he groused, golden brows beetling. "You're working undercover for the government, but you won't tell me what branch or under whose authority. Those men who were killed are a force of terrorists, but which group? Is it internal or external? What is their objective? Why are they targeting your men? And what is *your* reason for being 'undercover'?"

Yuki stared challengingly at the woman. She had forgotten that he was an author. He could see through the holes in her story without even trying, and he was well aware that she was leaving out most of the crucial information -- if she was telling even a portion of the truth.

Manx smiled again, but this time it warmed her dark eyes and softened her face, until she was actually quite lovely. "I understand your frustration, Yuki-san," she said, clasping her hands before her on the tabletop and leaning toward him. "If it were up to me, I would give you more of the story. But you have absolutely zero clearance. If I were to tell you more, it would place not only my men, but yourself and your lover in danger as well. Please accept that."

That, at least, had the ring of truth to it. Yuki sat back, his mouth twisting unhappily. "I don't like not knowing," he said harshly. "And even though I don't have any 'clearance', I am involved. It may not have been the fault of your agent and entirely my own, but it was my arm that fielded that gunshot. I won't ask to know everything, but I think I deserve a little more than what you've given me."

Manx sighed as she sat back, her expression thoughtful. Omi was gazing at her mournfully; he, at least, seemed to be on Yuki's side. The antithesis of this was the redhead, whose name Yuki still had not caught, apart from what was evidently his code-name; Abyssinian. He was still standing out of the way with an angry look on his face, glaring at Yuki. Yuki glared back. He was tired, his arm hurt, and he was growing increasingly more irritated. He should have been home hours ago.

In his chair, Ken stretched, yawning widely. He didn't seem too upset by anything that was going on. "I'm hungry," he declared unexpectedly, before Manx could respond to Yuki's ultimatum. "Where are Yoji and Shindou-san, anyway?"

Suddenly, everyone at the table realized that fact that it had been well over an hour since the two had departed.

"The market is only ten minutes away," Omi said anxiously, rising from his chair. "They should have been back by now."

"Yeah, even the way Yoji shops," Ken added, his dark brows drawing down in a frown. "You don't think anything happened, do you?"

"Just because we took out two of our enemies doesn't mean that there might not be other attempts," the redhead spoke up. He stepped away from where he had been leaning against a display case, his cold features grim.

Yuki felt his stomach twist. Shuuichi... he had better be all right. The novelist stood abruptly, his jaw set, amber eyes hard.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Manx was saying, though she rose as well, her face sharp with worry. "Abyssinian--"

The redhead had already donned his black trench coat and was tucking a long, sleek katana neatly within its folds. "I'll go out," he declared, his deep, resonant voice flat.

Yuki strode toward the door. If Shuuichi was in danger there was no way he was just waiting here.

"Where are you going?"

Yuki glared at the redhead as they both reached for the handle at once. "Don't get in my way!"

"That's what I should say to you," the redhead growled, his eyes hard. "Move aside."

"Aya-kun!"

A thin crimson brow twitched as Omi called out from behind the two antagonists. Yuki blinked, then stared, finding his attention caught on the long, delicate golden bar hanging from the post that pierced the man's left ear. Had he heard right? Aya.... But that was a girl's name!

"Yuki-san!" Omi was approaching, his brows knit. "You can't go out like that! Aya-kun! Go and get Yuki-san a shirt!"

The redhead turned slightly to glare at the youth, though he did not leave his position, half blocking the doorway. "Why should I?"

"Aya-kun...."

"I'll go get one of mine, Omi," Ken said. He shot the men in the doorway an exasperated look before loping out of the shop by way of the back exit. Yuki assumed it led, through the second doorway in the room in which he had awakened, to a place of residence for the four men.

"Mou!" Omi folded his arms, his face clouded. "I wish you wouldn't be so unfriendly, Aya-kun."

The corner of Yuki's mouth curled up slightly -- he couldn't help himself. "Aya," he murmured, low enough so that only the redhead could hear him clearly. "That's an unusual name... for a man. No wonder you go by 'Abyssinian'."

Aya transferred his furious stare from Omi to Yuki. His teeth were gritted, Yuki could tell, but he did not respond.

"Yuki-san, are you sure you want to go out?" Omi was asking anxiously. "Are you feeling well enough?"

"I'm fine," Yuki snapped, glowering. He began unbuttoning his shirt one-handed. He would be glad to get out of it, stained and crusted with dried blood as it was. Omi subsided, though he still looked worried.

"Weiss."

"Eh?" Yuki blinked, looking up through loose bangs at Manx. She was standing, her arms folded, her gaze fixed upon Yuki.

"The group comprised of Abyssinian, Balinese, Siberian, and Bombay," the woman clarified, nodding toward Aya and Omi. The youngest let out a faint moue of displeasure that his name was listed as being last. "They are called Weiss."

"Wasn't that... a terrorist group?" Yuki asked slowly, thinking back to what he had seen on the news almost two years ago. "There were several civilian casualties...."

"That wasn't us!" Omi hastened to interrupt, his blue eyes wide. "We were being set up by--"

Yuki frowned as the boy cut himself off with a quick glance at Aya. He turned his eyes that way. The redhead appeared distant and uninvolved, like a statue carved out of marble, but there was a raging fire in his violet eyes.

"Weiss was indeed framed for the crimes," Manx took up where Omi had left off. "The current government had decided that they needed a scapegoat. But all that is behind us now."

"Mm." Yuki was certain he was only being given a part of the story, but it was still more than the woman had told him before. He gave her a jaded look, and found it met and fully matched with one of her own. But her gaze was not unsympathetic.

"The government branch is Kritiker," she added. From Omi's sharp gasp, this was information he had not expected her to give Yuki. But Manx was smiling, her arms folded. "You won't find anything about it anywhere. Not in the papers, not on the Internet, and not in the files in city hall. But we exist, and we *are* a branch of the government."

Yuki nodded thoughtfully. Weiss and Kritiker.... They probably only had enough connection to the government to utilize its resources, while maintaining enough freedom that they didn't get buried in red tape. Sensible.

"And what is it that Weiss does?" he asked, tilting his head. "When it is not taking out members of a terrorist group?"

Ruby-painted lips curved into a sharp, predatory smile. "Why, it steals the tomorrows of the beasts who hunt the innocents."

"So you're a vigilante group," Yuki said shortly.

"Not precisely," Manx negated, with a small shake of her head. "But that's close enough. There are those that the law cannot or will not punish. We deal with this problem."

"Aa." Yuki was willing to accept that.

"Here!" Ken pounded back into the room, a jersey clutched in one fist. Yuki tried not to show the horror he felt as he accepted the loan and moved to pull it on, being careful of his wounded arm, but the dark-haired young man evidently picked up on his feelings. "It was all I had that was clean," he explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tomorrow's laundry day."

"Doumo," Yuki said grudgingly. The jersey fit him fairly well; evidently Ken wore it a bit large. It was a horrid mustard color, but there was nothing Yuki could do about that. At least it *was* clean. In fact, it smelt quite strongly of laundry detergent.

"Iko."

Yuki's lips thinned as Aya jostled him out of the way and pulled the door open. Fortunately, the man had been on his right side. Whether this had been by design or by happenstance, Yuki was uncertain. He just couldn't read the taciturn, disagreeable redhead.

"We'll stay here, in case they come back!" Omi chirped as Yuki followed Aya's ramrod straight back out of the flower shop and onto the night-washed sidewalk. "Good luck!"

"Aa."

As the door shut behind the two men, they paused a moment. Yuki glanced out of the corner of his eyes, and caught the redhead looking at him the same way. He scowled, shifting his gaze forward again.

"Do you have the faintest idea of where we should start looking?" he asked stiffly. Because the truth was that *he* didn't -- this part of town was unfamiliar to him.

"The shops are this way," Aya said, indicating his right. "But maybe we should be trying the love hotels."

It wasn't easy from the angles at which they were standing, but Yuki managed to hook Aya's jaw with a hard fist. His right arm was not damaged.

He hadn't had the strength or leverage to knock the lean redhead over, but Aya did stagger, caught off guard as he had been.

"I don't care what your quarrel is with your tall friend," Yuki said, his voice level but intense, his amber eyes narrow and filled with ire. "But I won't allow you to insult either Shuuichi or myself that way."

Hard amethyst eyes locked on his. Aya did not speak, either to apologize or to defend himself. Yuki surreptitiously flexed his right hand. The redhead's jaw had been hard and bony.

"I'm going this way," Yuki said, stepping off the sidewalk and crossing the street. When he glanced back, Aya was already a disappearing flare of black leather, the street lights catching on his crimson crown as he rounded the shop at the corner of the block.

Yuki snorted and set off in the direction Aya had indicated.

Teamwork was for those without the resources to manage on their own.

"Shuuichi.... I'll find you...."

****

"Manx-san, are you sure you should have told Yuki-san so much?" Omi asked anxiously, moving to the table and beginning to clear away the coffee things and the laden ashtray.

"I didn't give him any information he can use against us," Manx replied calmly. "Trust me to know what I'm doing, Bombay."

"Aa." Reassured, Omi piled the mugs, both full and empty, on the tray and hefted it, carrying it through the back door.

"What *did* you tell him?" Ken asked curiously. "Ah, wait, wait!" The young man rubbed his growling stomach, his brow knitting. "I'm so hungry! Omi! Matte!!"

Manx sighed as Ken ran after his younger teammate, who was headed for the kitchen. As usual, Siberian had chosen to take care of what was important -- at least in his frame of reference.

With a frown on her pretty face, Manx pulled out her phone. Balinese and Shindou Shuuichi were missing, and that was not a good thing. Balinese was usually more reliable. She had the sinking feeling that something had indeed happened to the two.

"Birman," she spoke crisply into the receiver. "I need your help."

In the kitchen, Ken rummaged through the refrigerator. Manx had been exaggerating when she had said it was empty, but she hadn't been far off in her assessment.

"I'm worried, Ken-kun," Omi said, as Ken sniffed a carton of old takeout.

"Pheuw!!" The dark-haired man's nose wrinkled and he dropped it in the trash. "Omi, is there anything to eat around here that hasn't gone rancid?"

"Ken-kun!"

"I'm listening, Omi," Ken hastened to assure the prickly youth. "I'm just really hungry! We missed dinner, thanks to Yuki Eiri and his boyfriend!"

Omi gave him a hard glare.

Ken sighed, moving over to wrap his arms around Omi's slender waist. "Do you want me to go out and help look?" he asked.

"No. You'll just end up at a noodle stand," Omi said, peering up at Ken with resentful eyes.

"Omi!"

"Can you deny it?" Omi sighed, leaning into Ken's embrace. "Just tell me that you're worried too, Ken-kun. That's all I really need right now."

"Of course I am." Ken sounded more exasperated than worried, but he was sincere and it shone through in his earnest features. "Yoji's not like that. Even with the way Shindou seemed to be, they ought to have gotten back a long time ago. If Aya and Yuki don't drag them home...."

"Then what will we do, Ken-kun?" Omi asked, his golden brows drawing up in anxiety.

"We'll, uh... we'll do everything we can to find them," Ken faltered. He felt as though that was the world's lamest reassurance, but Omi seemed to accept it, nodding as he pulled away.

"Let me make you something to eat, Ken-kun."

"Arigatou yo, Omi! You're the greatest!"

****

"I'm sorry. I haven't seen either of your friends."

Aya's scowl grew more deeply etched as he stepped away from the ramen shop. He had checked with almost every food shop that was still open, but no one had seen either Yoji or Shindou. And it wasn't as though they weren't distinctive; separately or, especially, together.

The scent of cigarette smoke reached Aya's nostrils, and for a moment he allowed himself to hope.... But it was only Yuki Eiri. He had caught up.

Aya glared as the novelist sauntered over, left hand propped in the pocket of his borrowed jersey, a move calculated to immobilize his wounded arm and keep it from being jarred. With his right hand he flicked away ash from the tip of his cigarette.

"Any luck?" Yuki asked, his deep voice flat, though there were lines of strain around the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Nai," Aya answered shortly. What had begun as irritation was blooming into full grown concern, though he would never have admitted it aloud. Yoji ought to be able to take care of himself, as well as one rowdy, obnoxious rock star, and yet the two were nowhere to be found. Yuki had decked him for suggesting a love hotel -- his jaw was still faintly throbbing -- but Aya was beginning to seriously think that this was the only possibility left. At least, it was the only one that wouldn't require him to start searching alleyways around the Koneko no Sumu Ie 2 for limp bodies.

"Let's go back to the flower shop," Yuki said, tossing his smoke away to an early death on the pavement. "It's no use wandering aimlessly about out here."

Aya shrugged. He had no desire to do as the blonde suggested, but he had already asked at all the shops. He was running out of ideas, and so he would have to go along. He was doing it because he wanted to, though, not at Yuki's behest.

The two strode back toward the Koneko, Yuki falling back a few paces because he was uncertain of the way and so that they were not side by side. They walked silently, no further interaction passing between them.

It was the flash of silver where it did not belong that caught Aya's eye as they moved past an otherwise innocuous alleyway.

He paused. Then, his eyes slitting, he swerved, darting to pick it up -- Yoji's lighter lying on a pile of garbage. It was unmistakable; Omi and Ken had gotten their eldest teammate the Zippo for his last birthday, and it was engraved with his signature feline, a Balinese, as well as the initials of his true name.

Aya's breath hissed between his teeth, and he straightened, the lighter clenched in one fist.

"What is it?" Yuki asked sharply behind him. "Did you find something?"

"Yoji's lighter," Aya answered shortly, only because he knew if he did not, that the other man would continue to pester him. He slid the item into a pocket then loosened the front of his jacket, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. He stepped further into the alleyway, his eyes scanning the darkness. There was not much sign of a struggle... but he could see the mark of a bootheel that had slipped. Perhaps that was where the lighter had been kicked out far enough that he had seen it. And a few more paces forward....

The bag contained a plastic-wrapped white shirt, much like the one Yuki had been wearing when he had been shot. Aya handed the shirt over to the other man, fishing in the bag for the receipt. He peered at it through the darkness. Without a doubt, that was Yoji's signature. It was fortunate that the man had paid, and had done so with a credit card. Not that the lighter hadn't been in itself evidence enough. But this made it certain.

"What is it?" Yuki asked, holding the shirt gingerly in his good hand, as though he expected it to bite him.

"I believe it's yours," Aya replied, doing the best he could to examine their surroundings in the thick darkness. "That explains why Yoji and Shindou never made it to any of the food shops -- they took the time to buy you a new shirt."

Yuki blinked, nonplussed, as Aya turned away. He squinted at the shirt through the shadows, then allowed it to drop to his side. But his knuckles were pale, he was clutching it so tightly.

Aya was not paying the novelist any attention. After a fruitless search, the redhead turned his gaze on his reluctant companion.

"They were taken," he said, keeping his voice low. "Yoji must have let his guard down." He tried to imagine it, then gave his head a swift shake. "Baka."

"Who took them?" Yuki demanded, his eyes flaring wide in alarm. Then they narrowed with calculation. "This is the fault of your group. Weiss. Your enemies thought that Shuuichi was Omi, the same way I mistook Omi for Shuuichi. That's why he was taken, wasn't it!"

"There's nothing more we can do here," Aya said shortly, ignoring what had not quite been a question. "We'll go back to the shop now."

Yuki's lips thinned into a pale line, but he moved to silently follow the redhead. They were not going to get rid of him now. Not until he found out who this "terrorist" group was, and he got Shuuichi back from them.

****

"So you're saying there's nothing you can do."

Manx actually appeared quite sympathetic, but her expression was stern at the same time. "I'm sorry. I'm not saying that there is nothing we can do. I already have operatives on the case, and they will be doing everything possible. However, there is nothing that those of us in this room right now can do. And you've been shot. I'm saying that you'd really ought to go home and rest. I will call you as soon as we get word of anything."

Yuki bit back a few harsh words at this. He was not feeling reassured. "There must be something--"

"There really isn't, Yuki-san," Omi cut in, his soft voice laden with tension. Yuki glanced at the youth but his features, so similar to Shuuichi's, had him turning away just as quickly. "I'll be on the computer all night," the boy continued, with a note of resignation in his husky voice. "But you, Aya-kun, and Ken-kun.... Well, there's nothing any of you can do until we get more information."

"You knew those men well enough to kill them," Yuki growled, clutching the shirt that Aya had picked up in the alley. "You must know who they are -- what the name of their group is."

"And if I told you, what would you do with the information?" Manx asked, folding her arms. "I doubt you have any connections more efficient or effective than those of Kritiker."

Yuki thought of Seguchi Tohma, and he wasn't so sure. But he held his peace. For one thing, he wasn't sure he wanted to bring his brother-in-law in on this yet. And for another, it would be better to hold something in reserve, something that Manx and Weiss did not know about.

"So you aren't going to tell me."

Manx ran her dark eyes over the weary lines of Yuki's face, and finally she relented. "Yuki-san. We actually do not know. We have two leads and some very strong suspicions, but until we are certain, I prefer not to say. Please believe me when I tell you that you will be one of the first to hear the name once we know for sure. Even though you have zero clearance, you are very much involved, and I will not be leaving you out of the loop."

Yuki eyed the woman. He could not read her, but he thought that she just might be speaking the truth. At any rate, it did not matter whether she was being totally honest with him or not -- he knew where the flower shop was, he knew the name of their organization, and he knew what they looked like. He would not be put off.

"All right." He was ready to get some sleep, despite his gut-wrenching worry. He *had* been shot, had lost some blood, and he had suffered more than one shock to his system this evening. He could feel his eyelids drooping, even though he was doing his best to hide his weakness.

"Let me give you a ride home, Yuki-san," Manx said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his good arm. Yuki pulled away, but he wasn't going to refuse the offer.

"Don't worry, Yuki-san," Omi exclaimed, his blue eyes wide and serious. "You know we're going to do all that is in our power to rescue Shindou-san!"

"Yeah. After all, we gotta get Yoji back too."

Omi smacked the back of Ken's head sharply. "Ken-kun!"

"Ow!"

Yuki almost smiled. He thought that he trusted the two youngest members of Weiss... maybe. Omi, in spite of the fact that he was an admitted killer, was earnest and guileless. He reminded Yuki of Shuuichi in more than looks. And Ken.... Well, the man was so open and artless that Yuki wasn't sure he was even capable of prevaricating.

Then there was Aya. Yuki didn't trust that man any further than he could see him.

"Well, I just meant-- I meant--"

Manx and Yuki ignored Ken's sputtering as the woman led him out of the flower shop.

"I'll be in touch, Bombay."

"Hai~!!"

As the door swung closed behind him, Yuki felt as though he was leaving behind the weirdest night of his life.

But he was still wearing a mustard yellow jersey that was almost too small. He was getting a ride home from a woman who had auburn curls on her shoulders and an attitude that rivaled even his sister.

And he was going home without Shuuichi.

Maybe he would wake up in the morning, and would find that all this had been a nightmare.

But that was too much to hope for. The worst things that happened in life were never dreams. It was when you got too comfortable and too happy that you woke up. And the waking was never pleasant.

Manx stood beside a racy red Corvette. Whatever micro-branch of the government she worked for, it obviously paid well.

"After you, Yuki-san," she said, waving an elegant hand.

Wordlessly, Yuki slid into the car, the shirt Shuuichi had bought him still clutched in his hand.

"Home," Manx said, turning the key in the ignition.

"Aa."

****

"Omi...."

Slender fingers danced over the keyboard as though they had been formed for no other purpose, without sign of a pause or stutter.

Ken scratched his scalp through shaggy dark hair. "Na. Omi."

"Hai. Ken-kun." There was no break in the typing.

A heavy sigh. "Omi, come to bed."

"Ken-kun...."

Ken reached over narrow shoulders and grasped deceptively slender wrists, effectively stilling Omi's typing. "Stop."

"Mou~! Ken-kun!"

"Come. To. Bed."

"But, I--"

"Omi, it's past two in the morning. Unless you're on the verge of some great revelation...."

The young blonde let out a heavy huff of breath and fell back in his chair. "No. I don't think I've found anything useful at all."

"Then come to bed," Ken murmured, running his thumb over the cords in Omi's wrist. "It's not doing you any good to sit here and get nothing done. You opened the shop this morning, you went to classes, you had a mission, and then all hell broke loose. It's more than time for some sleep. That way you'll be rested tomorrow. That's when things will really happen."

"I know." Omi sighed as Ken raised him from his chair. "I'm just worried. About Yoji-kun and about Shindou-san."

"We're all worried, Omi," Ken offered, as bracingly as he could. "But it won't do you any good to fry your eyes at the computer all night."

"I'll take over."

Both the young men started, pulling apart as Aya spoke from the doorway, revealing his presence.

"A-Aya-kun!"

"But you've had a long day too, Aya," Ken protested.

The pale redhead moved silently past the other two and plopped down in front of the computer.

Omi and Ken looked at one another and shrugged.

"Bed," Ken ordered.

"Bed," Omi agreed, stifling a yawn.

Behind them, the ticking of keys started up.

****

*briiiiiiiiiiii~!!*

"Shuuichi...." Yuki growled into the plushy surface of his pillow as the shrilling of the alarm clock pierced his deep, blessedly dreamless slumber.

*...iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIII~~~!!!*

"Shuuichi!"

Yuki raised his face, blinking through tangled blonde bangs at the overactive clock that was bouncing around the desktop. His eyes felt gritty and sore, and the high-pitched shrieking of the alarm was driving a spike through his skull. Trust Shuuichi to choose an alarm clock that reflected his own hyper, strident nature--

"Shuuichi!" Yuki started up from the sheets, rolling over into a sitting position. He hissed, clutching his left upper arm as a bolt of fiery pain shot into the forefront of his senses. His eyes frantically searched the bed beside him. It was empty, the blanket smooth except where Yuki's motion had pulled it into creases, no indentation marring the pillow beside the one Yuki had been using.

Shuuichi was not here....

Yuki slumped, reaching over without looking to slam the alarm clock off. From the angle of the golden sunlight pouring in through the window he estimated that he had gotten several hours of sleep after returning to his apartment. He had slept deeply. But he still felt like shit.

Fumbling for his cigarette pack and lighter, Yuki lit up. His hands were shaking. He knew he should get out of bed and eat, or at least have some coffee. He was too nauseous. Dread was eating at his innards, grinding away at his nerves now that he was awake once again.

He had known better. He had known that it was a mistake to allow anyone to get so close to him. Bad things always happened to the people who were close to him. Now Shuuichi was in danger, and Yuki was helpless, and it had been his fault.... Well, he hadn't compelled the young man to seek him out. Things would have been fine if Shuuichi had not shown up at the flower shop.

And yet, Shuuichi's devotion to him had demanded no less of the youth. That was why it had been such a bad idea to get involved with Shuuichi in the first place. Being alone hurt a lot less than losing someone close. It was better not to miss something that wasn't there than to feel its lack so wrenchingly. His life had been ripped from its moorings, and he had the horrible sinking sensation of things never being right again.

How could he bear this? And yet he had no choice. He had to continue functioning. Because life went on whether one was prepared or not. And he had to help Weiss get Shuuichi back.

Weiss. Yuki ground out his cigarette with unconscious viciousness. He wished he had never heard of that... that vigilante group! This situation was all their fault -- it was their fault he had been shot, their fault Shuuichi was gone, and their fault that his world had been thrown into such turmoil.

Unnoticed and certainly undesired by him, Yuki had settled into a smooth routine. He would wake up, Shuuichi would be there... he would go to bed at night and Shuuichi would be there....

Now, he was alone again. And yet it was not as it had been before Shuuichi had invaded his life and home and made both his own. Now Yuki knew what he did not have, and it hurt so much.

And the worry and uncertainty only made things worse.

*triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~!!*

"K'so!" For a moment Yuki thought that he had hit the 'snooze' button on the alarm clock instead of turning it off, but then he realized that the tone was less strident if no less demanding. It was his cell phone ringing.

Reaching down over the edge of the bed, feeling all the blood rush painfully into his tender temples and trying to avoid jarring his wounded arm, Yuki fumbled with the pants he had left lying in a heap, wresting his phone from the pocket. "Shit!"

The mad hope rose unbidden in his heart that Manx would be on the other end, telling him that they had gotten Shuuichi back, safe and sound, and that Yuki could come and pick him up at the flower shop.

"Moshi moshi.... Ah." Hope shattered. "Sakano." Yuki's golden brows drew together in a knotted scowl as he held the phone away from his ear. The producer for Bad Luck was in fine form this morning, and Yuki wasn't in the mood to deal with his overblown histrionics.

"Yuki-san! Do you know where Shindou-kun is?! He should have been here over an hour ago! We can't start without him! This is wasting money, and we need to get things moving! Seguchi-san is going to be so angry! Yuki-san, if Shindou-kun is there--"

"He's not," Yuki broke in flatly.

"He-- What? What did you say, Yuki-san?"

"Shuuichi is not here."

With a certain amount of grim satisfaction, Yuki decisively thumbed the 'off' button. Dropping the phone beside him on the bed, he reached up to rub at the creased flesh between his brows. His head was pounding, and he had a feeling that the day was only going to get worse.

*triiiiiiiiiiiiiii~!!*

With a harsh growled curse, Yuki scooped the shrilling phone up.

"I told you Shuuichi's not here!" he barked into it, fury flaring to fill his vision with red, adrenaline pumping through his veins, momentarily driving his headache away. "I don't know where he is and I don't know when he'll be back! So--"

"Ara maa, Aniki!" It was his brother's low, amused drawl that trickled from the phone. "Now what have you done?"

"Tatsuha." Yuki collapsed back against the pillow, feeling the surge of energy leech away from him like a lanced boil, leaving emptiness and weakness in its wake. Thank the gods it had been his brother and not Mika who had called.

Suddenly Yuki straightened, a dangerous glint lighting his amber eyes. He had an idea....

"Tastuha. I have a job for you."

"Huh?" His brother was, understandably, confused. "What are you talking about, Aniki?"

"I have a job for you," Yuki repeated, slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and rising. With a scornful expression, he kicked the mustard yellow jersey that was lying on the floor next to his pants out of his way. "If you do it, I'll arrange that meeting for you with Sakuma Ryuuichi that you've been pestering Mika about all this time."

There. That ought to get Tastuha hooked. Once he finished drilling his brother with the particulars, Yuki would shower, rebandage his arm, dress, then try to eat.

It was going to be a long day.

****

Ken entered the kitchen shared by the Weiss members, yawning, scratching, and stretching widely. He had followed the scent of brewing coffee, and now that he had arrived he was confronted with the sight of his red-haired teammate making breakfast.

"Na, Aya, did you get *any* sleep last night?" Ken asked, moving to pour himself a brimming mug of steaming, strong coffee. His own eyes were heavy-lidded and his jaw twitched with the threat of further yawns. It was almost eight, but he hadn't gotten to bed until two-thirty himself, and Aya had only been starting on the computer then.

His reply was a low grunt, and Ken sighed, sitting down at the table with his precious mug cradled in his hands. He hadn't expected more, really. After he had some caffeine in his system and felt more alive he would see about food. He doubted Aya was cooking enough for them both.

Ken sipped gingerly at his near-scalding morning beverage, managing to burn his tongue in spite of this caution. It felt weird to know that Yoji wasn't anywhere in the apartment. Not lounging in bed for the last few minutes he could wring out of the morning, not hogging the shower and using up all the hot water, not fighting Ken for the coffee.... The pot was nearly full, and at this hour that was almost unheard of.

"What a night," Ken mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to loosen the taut muscles. He would've asked Omi for a massage, but there were more important things for the two of them to spend their time and energy on right now.

Ken slumped back in his chair, scrubbing at his face with both hands. Yoji had really done it this time. And he'd managed to get a civilian involved -- one with a very cranky and very possessive lover. One who had a lover who knew who they were, where they lived, and what they did. One who was a famous novelist and surely had "connections" up the ass.

"Yeesh...." The dark-haired young man drank his coffee, mind wandering. "Yuki Eiri.... What a jerk. I don't think we've seen the last of him. Wouldn't surprise me if he came pounding on our door any minute. Na, Aya?"

One violet eye slitted in his direction, unfriendly and cold. Aya turned back to the stove, his face set in hard lines.

Hn. So much for morning conversation. Ken wrinkled his nose and finished off his coffee. He could feel the liquid hitting his empty stomach in a wash of harsh acidity, but he couldn't help himself. Damn Yoji, anyhow, for getting all of them hooked on the stuff. Now Ken couldn't imagine beginning a day without its rich darkness.

Yoji.... Ken really hoped that his older teammate was all right. He complained about Yoji's bad habits and idiosyncrasies, but they were friends -- after so many years together, good friends -- and Ken wouldn't wish him ill for all the world. It was so frustrating, having to sit around and do nothing, when his every instinct was urging him to go out and somehow find and rescue Yoji before anything too bad happened to him!

"Where's Omi?"

Ken blinked, startled from his introspection by Aya's abrupt question. "He got up early to deal with some data Manx got us about our opponents," he answered amiably, rising to pour himself more coffee. It was so strong, Aya must have brewed it. He and Yoji liked it powerful enough to curl the hairs on their heads, whereas Omi favored a more diluted version. Ken was easy either way -- it was all caffeine. "She called him on his cell and got him the name. The 'Slashers'."

"Slashers," Aya repeated, sounding dubious. He slammed his spatula into the frying pan almost violently.

Ken eyed the redhead's hunched, tense shoulders and settled himself in his chair once more with another sigh. Aya was in even more of an ill temper than usual this morning.

Must be the lack of sleep.

****

He had never noticed it before -- the ticking of the clock on the wall over his desk.

Yuki leaned back in his chair, hanging his head over its back to glare up at the offending appliance.

*tic... tic... tic... tic....*

Every second counted off was a second without Shuuichi, in which Yuki still didn't know what had happened, in which Shuuichi could be suffering, in which Yuki became more and more helpless....

*tic...*

Every second counted off added up to another minute that Yuki wasn't getting anything written.

*tic...*

Yuki closed his laptop, carefully and gently, ignoring the driving impulse that urged him to instead pick it up and throw it across the room. His head bowed, he leaned on his knees, tugging the cigarette from his lips. He had already gone through an entire half a pack and hadn't tasted a single one. It was just something to keep his hands occupied, since he was not typing. He had sat here for half an hour, with his laptop open and whirring, and he hadn't gotten a single word written.

He was perilously close to standing and wrenching that damned ticking clock down from the wall then flinging it through the glass of his office window. Anxiety and stress were building in him, piling up against the dam of his helplessness, building and building, until he was beginning to feel that blind, unrestrained violence was the only possible release.

This was when he became dangerous, to himself as well as to others.

Taking a deep breath, Yuki stood. He thumbed his closed eyes, drawing sparks to them, stretching the muscle of his left arm where the bullet had grazed him but ignoring the slight pain. These were negligible discomforts in comparison to the fire boiling up inside of him.

"Ch'kusho...."

Maybe if he went for a walk....

*BAM!*

Yuki blinked, startled by the sound of his front door slamming open. With a dark scowl marring his features, he strode from his office. He knew it could not be Shuuichi -- his lover's entrance would have been accompanied by the cry of "Tadaima, Yuki!"

Emerging into the living room, Yuki pulled up short. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he found himself staring down the barrel of a firearm. After the initial gut-clench of panic, however, he noted who it was holding the gun, and his fear subsided, to be replaced by exasperation.

"K."

"Good morning, Yuki-san!" the tall blonde American said imperiously, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on the irritated novelist. "I trust I am not intruding upon your working hours. If you would just kindly hand Shindou-kun over to me, I shall be on my way."

Yuki glowered, his fingers twitching for a cigarette, but he had left his pack back in the office. "Shuuichi isn't here," he said shortly. "I told your Sakano that when he called earlier!"

"Ahh~! That is too bad!" K smiled engagingly at Yuki, but he did not lower his gun. "Has he run away from home again, then? Returned to his family?"

"No, he did not run away from home!" Yuki felt the need to punch something, and punch it hard. But there was nothing nearby he could vent his rage on except the walls, which would damage his knuckles, and K's infuriating face, but the man still had the gun trained on Yuki. Shit, shit, shit!

"Maa. That is unfortunate. We very much need Shindou-kun, you see," K said in his mellifluous voice. He was smiling, but the late morning light glinted cold off of his blue eyes and the grey metal of his gun. "He has a concert this evening, and we have to rehearse right now. His presence is absolutely vital!"

"That is none of my concern," Yuki growled, feeling his nails bite into his palms. Like any of that mattered when Shuuichi was in the hands of a terrorist organization that thought he was one of their enemies!

"Ah, but it is, if you have indeed driven him away, Yuki-san." With a menacing click, the tall American cocked his handgun, his mouth quirking. His eyes, however, were steady and serious. "You see, the show MUST go on, and that means that Bad Luck must have Shindou-kun. His career is in jeopardy, and there must be nothing that keeps him from that stage tomorrow night."

Yuki thought that the odds of Shuuichi being willing or able to do the concert even if Weiss managed to get him back *today* were pretty slim. If only he hadn't mistaken that Omi youth for Shuuichi--

A sudden idea struck Yuki, and there was a calculating gleam in his eye as he brushed past the gun-toting manager of his lover's band. "Come with me," he said, with a wave of his hand. He didn't wait to see whether K was following as he tugged on his shoes and stalked out his busted door.

He had been wishing for an excuse to visit the flower shop that would allow him to retain his pride. And now he had one.

****

"Weird.... Very weird...." Tatsuha crouched in an alleyway across the street from the shop his brother had convinced him to stake out, cell phone in hand, watching all that went on with bright eyes. To see a flower shop run by three young men was not very common. And what was his aniki after? He had simply told Tatsuha to call him and report "anything" -- he hadn't been any more specific than that.

Still, there was a meeting with Sakuma Ryuuichi riding on his obedience to Eiri's instructions. Tatsuha would not fail in his appointed task!

There! There was movement at the front of the flower shop!

Thumbing the speed-dial for his brother's cell, Tatsuha watched, waiting to see what would happen next. Eiri had evidently turned his phone off, but Tatsuha, ever-mindful of his golden goal, obligingly left his messages on his brother's voice mail.

"Aniki, this is Tatsuha. I'm still watching the shop. The redhead is moving some pots outdoors. They have some plants in them with lots of green leaves. Now he's watering them with a hose.... Now he's carrying them back inside."

A few more minutes and another message.

"The brunette came outside.... He's folding his arms.... I think he just sighed. Oh! Now he's going back into the shop."

Hey, Eiri had said to let him know if *anything* happened!

Ooh! This looked even more interesting!

"Aniki! It's Tatsuha! The little blonde who looks like Shuuichi -- hey, that little blonde looks like Shuuichi!! -- he came outside and gave a thick folder to a pretty redhead with hair like Noriko's!"

Maybe this was what his brother had wanted to get news of! But if so, then why had he turned off his cell phone? Maybe Tatsuha should try his home phone....

Oops! Something else was happening.

"Aniki! It's me! There's a car pulling up outside the flower shop! Some people are getting out! Oh! Hey, Aniki, it's *you*!" Tatsuha blinked. "And Bad Luck's manager...."

The young man allowed the phone to fall from his ear, his eyes wide as he watched his older brother and the tall American stride into the Koneko no Sumu Ie 2.

"Aniki? What are you doing here?" He frowned, hanging up his cell phone absently. "What does this mean? O-oi! I do still get to meet Ryuuichi, don't I?! Aniki?!"

****

The routine mundanities of running the flower shop were slightly soothing, but not as much so as Aya had hoped. He kept telling himself that he was not worried -- Yoji was an adult, he was only a team member, and Shindou was a complete stranger -- Aya held no responsibilities toward them. He would do his best to find and rescue them, but it was not in any way his concern that they had been taken in the first place. And fretting over their condition was going to do neither Aya nor Yoji and Shindou any good.

He could tell himself this as many times as he wanted, but his stomach was still knotted and his extremities cold. He was worried, as much as he wanted to deny it, and it was more personal than merely the concern that Yoji might spill to their enemies where it was Weiss was living and working. He knew Yoji would never talk, no matter the pressures brought to bear. It was the thought, rather, of those methods that the 'Slashers' group might bring into play to try and wrest the information from Balinese.

Aya didn't like it admit it, but he had, over the years they had been working together, especially after his imouto had awakened from her coma, come to regard Yoji as a friend.

It wasn't so hard to believe. He'd had friends before, as Ran. He would never get back his youthful, innocent persona, the boy he had been before Takatori had shattered his life, but that didn't mean that he couldn't move on. It was just that... a lot of the time he forgot that he could.

Yoji had, whether deliberately or not, insidiously worked his way into Aya's life until a single day without his presence felt "wrong", off somehow.

And he didn't like it, but Aya was worried about Yoji. This made him even more snappish than usual, and Omi and Ken had stopped talking to him, relegating him to the back of the shop to put together the arrangements Yoji had been scheduled to do.

Aya couldn't blame them. But it didn't make him any less cranky.

The bell at the door rang a little more violently than usual. Aya fixed a hard violet glare on the newcomers to the shop and winced. That would explain it. It was just a good thing that they had no other customers right now.

"Shindou-kun wa doko desu ka?"

It was the man that Yuki Eiri had brought in with him that spoke the question, the novelist himself silent but his eyes burning with intent.

Aya eyed the man. American; he had to be, from his accent and appearance. Aya didn't like Americans. The man's thick golden hair was caught up in a high ponytail but still fell to the small of his back. His fierce blue eyes were intelligent and missed nothing. He was handsome and broad-shouldered, and he unabashedly wore a gun in a black leather holster over his white shirt.

"A-anou..." Omi stuttered, stepping forward, his hands filled with lacy white blossoms. Ken was standing frozen in shock, and though Aya had risen to his feet, he had no desire to deal with the situation. "Excuse me, sir--"

"AH! Shindou-kun!" The tall American stepped forward, grasping Omi's slim upper arms in large, graceful hands. "What are you doing here?! Has Yuki-kun driven you to working in a flower shop for extra pocket money?! Why didn't you come to me first?! We could have worked something out! And you're missing rehearsal!"

"I-- I think you have me mistaken for Shindou-san," Omi managed to get out as the American paused in his gushing. "I'm Tsukiyono Omi... sir."

"Eh?" Releasing his grip, which caused Omi to reel back a step, the American ran his piercing blue gaze over the slender youth before him. "Ah! You are right! I was mistaken!"

"I'm sorry," Omi said, bowing at the waist, the blossoms clutched to his chest. He raised his gaze, and then his eyes widened. "Oh! You're K-san! The manager of Bad Luck!"

"Yes, I am."

Leave it to Omi to recognize the man. Aya restrained a snort and glared at Yuki. This was all they needed.

"I'm sorry about Shindou-san," Omi was saying earnestly. "We're doing everything we can to get him back, K-san. You mustn't worry -- just leave everything to us!"

"Hhhmm...." The American got a calculating gleam in his gem-blue eyes. "Hey, otoko no ko... I have a proposition for you...."

Ken scowled stormily as K ushered Omi to one side, leaning down close to the flushed young man.

"What does he want with Omi?" he asked Yuki angrily, hands on his hips.

The blonde novelist fixed him with unreadable amber eyes. "If I had to guess, I would say that he's probably thinking of using your Omi's resemblance to Shuuichi. There's an important concert tonight that Bad Luck can't miss. Since it's the fault of your vigilante group that Shuuichi can't attend it, then it would be only fair that K talk Omi into helping them out."

"What?!" Ken was outraged.

Ignoring him, Yuki turned to Aya. "Well?"

Aya stared at the man. Yuki looked weary and haggard. He was holding his left arm less awkwardly than the night before, but his entire body was tensed, as though he was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. It had probably stretched his nerves to near the breaking point just to stay away from the flower shop until an hour approaching noon. In all honesty, Aya had been expecting him to show up at any time after sunrise, as Ken had half-jokingly suggested.

Yuki was wearing the new white button-up shirt that Aya had found in the alley; the one that his lover had picked out and purchased for him. This fact touched something in the redhead, reminding him of the earring he still wore in his left ear, and so even though he still disliked the arrogant man, he answered quietly and civily enough.

"We know a little more about the group that took Yoji and Shindou. Not enough to make any move yet, but it's a step in the right direction."

Yuki scowled, unconsciously fingering his left sleeve just below where he had been shot with his right hand. His brow was creased with a combination of anger, pain, and worry. He really looked a mess. "So we're no closer to getting Shuuichi back than we were last night."

"We're actually a lot closer now," Ken spoke up, though his gaze was fixed across the flower shop, where two golden heads were pressed close together, a low buzz of questions and answers filtering over through the flower scented air. "We just can't do anything quite yet."

Yuki was silent a long moment, thinking, though nothing that went on in his head was reflected in his flat amber eyes.

"I would say, then, that you ought to fall in with K's plan," he spoke finally. "Not only is this mess your responsibility, since Shuuichi would not have been kidnapped had he not been with Yoji, but it is a chance to see whether anyone shows up at the concert."

"You mean any member of the Slashers?" Ken asked.

Aya hissed through his teeth, but it was too late. Yuki would have to be deaf and stupid not to have caught that slip.

"Yes." To his credit, the novelist answered coolly, not leaping on the information and demanding more.

Ken cast Aya a sheepish glance. Aya ignored him. Well, Manx *had* said that she would tell Yuki the name of the group that had kidnapped Shindou. Still, Ken oughtn't to have slipped like that just because he was distracted.

Aya locked gazes with Yuki. "All right. We'll give your plan some consideration."

"Hey, guys!" Omi bounced over, his face glowing, followed by a smug, smirking K. "Guess what!! I get to sing on-stage with Bad Luck!!"

Aya glared at Yuki as the man's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. It seemed as though the matter was decided.

****

Yoji sighed, resting his cheek against the grimy cement floor, feeling weary and sore. There was sunlight spilling through the windows far above, near the ceiling of the warehouse he and Shindou were evidently being stored in, but they were both lying in shadow. It was chilly, grimy, and uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

His arms were tied tightly behind him with leather straps, each wrist to the opposite elbow, and his legs were bound together at the knees and ankles. His captors were taking no chances.

Conversely, Shindou had several loops of simple rope wrapped around his wrists before him, and no other restraints.

But then, he was even less of a threat than Yoji at the moment.

Yoji grumbled under his breath, trying to shift without aggravating his wounds. He was certain that at least a couple of ribs were cracked; he knew well enough what *that* felt like. His mouth tasted awful, musty and sweet from whatever they had used to put him out in that alley, the back of his skull throbbed where he had been struck, his face was bruised, he was hungry and thirsty, and he could *kill* for a cigarette.

Mainly, however, he was worried about Shindou, and the way the young man had reacted to the entire situation.

"Oi, Shuuichi," Yoji tried for perhaps the dozenth time to rouse the youth laying beside him, even though his throat was dry and his voice hoarse. "Snap out of it, kiddo!"

This time Yoji thought he caught a flicker of reaction in those dull violet eyes. Encouraged, he continued to speak, attempting to cajole his fellow captive back to full awareness.

They had awakened from being drugged in this large, empty warehouse. It had at the time been, so far as Yoji could guess, well past midnight. The only light had been from a lamp that their captors had brought with them.

There had been three of them, and they hadn't been particularly careful to hide their faces. Because of this, Yoji was pretty well certain that they were planning on disposing of he and Shindou once they were done with them. As well, they had spoken to one another freely, and although they had been using code names, this also had not bode well.

The one called 'Rex' had appeared to be in charge; a tall, dark-haired man with a ponytail and hard eyes. He had stood back and watched, asking the questions, while Yoji had been held upright by a man called 'Sakura' who had thick blonde hair and a pretty face, and another whose designation Yoji had not caught, with sharp features and blunt hands, applied some... pressure. Mainly to Yoji's ribcage, though he now had bruisings in other places also. All in all, he felt pretty well worked over.

The questions had mostly been about Kritiker, and those who were highly placed in the organization. Rex had seemed most interested in where Kritiker was based, and how the members of Weiss got in touch with their superiors.

Needless to say, Yoji hadn't spoken a word -- at least, not in response to the queries. He'd had plenty else to say, which was probably why the man whose name he had not caught had played so hard on his ribs.

When they'd given up on Yoji, they had moved on to Shindou. This had proved to be a big mistake.

The young man had been longer in fully awakening from his drugged stupor than Yoji had been; perhaps because he was smaller, or perhaps because he had been given a stronger dose. At any rate, it hadn't been until they had almost been finished with Yoji that Shindou had recovered. With an outraged cry, he had done his best to leap to Yoji's aid. Rex had practically had to sit on the boy in order to stifle him.

After growing impatient with his unhelpful and belligerent attitude, they had tossed Yoji aside and advanced on Shindou. Sakura and the other man had held him by the arms while Rex had taken an active role this time, trying to get some answers out of the boy he thought was Bombay of Weiss.

Yoji had been lost in a haze of agony, after hitting the cement floor hard with no cushioning for his cracked ribs. Once he had blinked the foggy white away from his vision and had gotten to the point that he could breathe again, he had seen Rex looming over Shindou in the dim lamp light, ready to apply his knuckles to the young man's face for maybe the third or fourth time.

That was when Shindou had begun screaming.

Yoji swallowed thickly, recalling those blood-curdling sounds. He had attempted to rouse himself, wanting to jump up and stop them, unable to just lie still even though his hands were tied behind him and his chest was ringed in a band of fiery pain. Shindou had been writhing in the grip of his captors, kicking and thrashing, crying out like a wounded animal.

Initially, Rex had tried to quiet Shindou, but the more he had pressed him, the worse Shindou had become. Finally, he had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it into the youth's mouth. It was shortly after this that Shindou had slumped, not senseless or drugged, but simply in a swoon of shock induced semi-consciousness.

Sakura and the other had dropped the young man beside Yoji. His violet eyes had been glazed over, blank and glassy beneath heavy lids. Yoji had been both relieved and frightened by this.

Rex had just been pissed off. And once he had grasped the lamp, bringing it in close for a better look at Shindou's face, he had been even more irate.

"This is *not* Bombay!" he had snapped at his two subordinates.

Yoji hadn't been able to restrain a small chuckle at this. Come to think of it, that was likely where one or two more of his ribs had been damaged.

When Yoji had recovered from the air-sucking anguish inflicted upon him in punishment for his amusement, he and Shindou had been alone in the warehouse. Rex and his men had taken the lamp with them, and there was only the faintest phosphorescence of street lights outlining the high windows. Yoji had called out to Shindou in the darkness for a while, but had received no reply.

He thought that after an hour or so he had dozed off, despite his pain. Now he was awake, and it was surely approaching the noon hour. His ribs hurt, he was dying for a smoke, and Shindou still had not regained his senses.

But now it looked as though Yoji's voice was having an impact, beginning to draw Shindou from his near-catatonic state.

"Come on, Shuuichi," he coaxed, the words grating through a dry throat and over a thick tongue. "I know you can hear me. Just talk to me, okay?"

He had his suspicions as to what has set Shindou off the night before. Rex's bullying tactics had probably brought to the surface some really harsh memories for Shindou. Yoji wasn't naive or foolish enough to think that anyone was safe from any sort of traumatic experience. It must have been pretty terrible to send the poor kid off into a self-imposed limbo for such a long time. Probably fairly recent too. Yoji felt bad for him. One would never think he had anything of the sort in his past, from his cheerful, upbeat attitude.

But, then, the same could be said for Omi, and the youngest Weiss member had been through some really bad things when he had been very young himself. Shit happened in life, and it was the lucky ones who were able to deal with it constructively.

Finally, finally, thick lashes flickered as Shindou blinked. Reason and clarity filtered back into his eyes, kindling their amethyst depths.

His face crinkling in a bitter expression, Shindou reached up with his bound hands and yanked the handkerchief from his mouth.

Yoji waited patiently as Shindou pulled several contorted faces, his lips and throat working. Poor kid. After so many hours, that had to have dried him out pretty badly. At least it looked like it had been a clean handkerchief.

"Y-Yoji-san...." Shindou's voice crackled badly, but he seemed to be all right otherwise as he levered himself into a sitting position. He craned his neck, glancing around. "Where are we?! What happened?!"

Yoji grinned mirthlessly. "We are in an awful lot of trouble," he informed the young man. "I seem to have gotten you into quite a mess. Sorry."

Shindou blinked, then fell onto his hands and knees beside Yoji, wobbly with his wrists bound together, his expression twisting in concern. "Are you all right, Yoji-san?!"

"Daijoubu, daijoubu." Yoji coughed slightly, and instantly regretted it. "Ow.... Just... just some cracked ribs. I'll be all right."

Shindou didn't seem reassured. He also didn't seem to remember what had happened in this warehouse in the early morning hours. Yoji wasn't about to remind him.

"What are we going to do, Yoji-san?" Shindou asked, his violet eyes wide and trusting.

Yoji closed his eyes. "Not much we can do when we're tied up like this," he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"But we can't just sit here and wait!" Shindou exclaimed fervently.

"No...." Yoji agreed. Especially seeing as their captors would be likely to do them in the next time they showed up. Either that or make further, nastier attempts at wringing information from them. After all, if they had no intention of releasing their captives then there would be no reason for them not to employ potentially disfiguring or maiming methods. Yoji and Shindou's best hope was that Aya and the rest of Weiss might somehow track them down and stage a successful rescue.

This was a faint hope at best, so far as Yoji was concerned.

"If we could get our hands free," Yoji said, opening his eyes, his expression hardening, "I might be able to get us out of here." He refused to give in to helplessness.

"But you're hurt, Yoji-san," Shindou argued, his brows creasing in concern. He really was a sweet young man. "Yuki will come and save me -- and you too -- I know it!"

"Mm-hm." Yoji restrained a sigh, as this would hurt his ribs. Blind faith in a lover was all very well and good, but they needed to be out of here before Rex and his men returned.

"He will!" Shindou declared fiercely, his eyes flashing. "Yuki will rescue me -- us!!"

"Okay, baby." Yoji had to smile at Shindou's unshakable assurance. "But in the meantime, let's get ready to help him. Your hands are tied in front of you -- how about giving it a go, getting me untied."