Something In-Between

Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation nor do I make any money from using the characters.

NC-17

If you have time, please review. I really appreciate it.


Note: This chapter (also known as the very difficult chapter that almost made Despina throw in the towel on fanfiction) is done now. Please relax my darling, lovely reviewers and know this about me; there is only one thing I dislike more than plot holes and that is unfinished stories. Never fear, I will finish this.


Of course, Kri and AshCat saved me from complete humilation by trying to fix my sudden 'tense' problems.


Something In-Between


Chapter 4
If I Can’t Change Your Mind

How can I explain away
Something that I haven’t done?
And if you can’t trust me now
You’ll never trust in anyone
With all the crazy doubts you’ve got
I love you even still
But if I can’t change your mind
Then no one will

Someday you’ll see I’ve been true
I’ll stay that way until
But if I can’t change your mind
Then no one will

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I find it shocking how much I take things for granted. For example, my laptop had always been a tool, a thing to aid me with my writing, nothing more.

But after I received that first email from Shuichi, my laptop suddenly became the center of my universe.

I became obsessed with email, checking it at all times of the day and night. Me. The person that had always scorned email and the web as a waste of time for losers and the socially inept that had nothing more constructive to do with their time.

It was sadly ironic.

Tohma found my constant, unwaveringly devotion to my laptop to be an endless source of entertainment whenever he visited. And he visited often. Very, very often.

In my defense, I found with email, I could tell Shuichi things I often had difficulties telling him in person. I should have figured this out long before. I had always been better with the written versus the spoken word. As an added bonus, I could edit my words before sending; a very handy safeguard when it came to my sometimes cruel, offhanded remarks.

Together, Shuichi and I had managed to navigate over a few emotional walls I never thought possible. We spoke frankly of his intense, continuing jealousy of Kitazawa, and of my seemingly detached aloofness towards our relationship. We also discussed our tendencies to fire out hurtful words without first weighing the consequences.

We had a few, rather tense conversations over the tabloid photograph of him and Inoue that was splashed relentlessly all over the news. My anger even gave me the ability to go a couple of days without responding to the brat. I had been waiting until his pleading, apologetic emails, dotted with the occasional “Fuck off, Yuki, I don’t care if you don’t believe me” neared fifty in number before I finally gave in and replied to him. If I hadn’t been so angry at him, I would have found his determination amusing.

I told him I had my own set of questions regarding the photo and I wanted specific answers. I was somewhat startled when he complied. He answered every question with brutal honesty.

I asked him if he loved Inoue. He responded that he didn’t think so, and that he thought he loved Inoue the same way he loved Nakano.

Well, that sure as hell didn’t help make me feel any better. He fucking slept with Nakano, too.

So I asked him if he had slept with Inoue since he got to London. His response this time was, no, he hadn’t, but it did cross his mind from time to time. He said he was lonely.

Fucking brat. Sometimes I was certain he was deliberately trying to piss me off.

Finally, I lost all sense of dignity and I asked him if he wanted to be with me. His response was again, fiercely honest:


Sometimes. Most of the time. But I’m scared. And I’m still mad at you. And the last time we were together you were creepy.


Creepy; I thought it was generous of him to say. I hadn’t even been able to breach the subject myself. Personally, I felt what I had done to him the last time we were together was demented and twisted, boarding on psychotic. Remembering those few moments of my violent treatment of Shuichi tended to make me physically ill. After all, a rape victim raping another rape victim? That’s certifiably sick, if you ask me. I was still amazed he would want to have anything to do with me, including email.

I guess my point was, for the first time in our history, Shuichi and I were actually relating to one another. It was something we had attempted in the past, but had never been able to accomplish verbally. The subjects and conversations were raw and painful from time to time, but we were connecting.

And what I found very strange was I almost felt as though I was falling in love with him again. Of course, I still won’t tell him that. That elusive, intangible emotion was still a tad difficult for me to articulate, be it in person or through email.

Not to mention I was still really pissed off about him and Inoue.

And he was still really pissed off about whatever happened in Yokohama.

Fucking Yokohama.



“Yuki-san?” she said softly to me, perhaps for the forth or fifth time. “Yuki-san?”

I stared at my cigarette, it had gone out from sitting and being ignored for so long, “I’m sorry, what was the question again?”

She smiled patiently at me, “Do you have any final words to give to your fans? Perhaps something about an upcoming book or words of wisdom from the Prince of Romance?”

I shook my head, “No.”

Reaching out I turned off the recorder. Snarling I asked, “Are we done, now?”

“Yes, thank the gods,” she sighed as she leaned back and glared at me. “That was the worst interview I have ever had the displeasure of doing, Uesugi Eiri. That is going to ruin my reputation as the only reporter that can get a decent interview out of you.” She continued to glare at me, “And to top it all off, I’ve been forbidden to ask you the one question everyone wants to know!”

“And what does everyone want to know?” I growled at her.

“Ha!! As if you didn’t know,” she reached into her bag and pulled out a copy of that horrible tabloid photo of Inoue and Shuichi. “That’s what I want to know about. Even if I can’t ask you “professionally” I can ask you personally, can’t I?”

“Get that away from me,” I stood up and moved away from the table.

“I’m sorry, Eiri,” she said quietly as she picked up the photo and put it back into her bag. “That was rather insensitive of me.”

“Tch,” I snapped at her.

“So, what is the deal, Eiri? Is it true that you and Shuichi are completely finished now?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “You got me, Sakura. Shuichi is so different now; I feel as if I don’t even know who he is sometimes.”

“Well, you did leave him for a year and a half, Eiri,” she smiled at me in an attempt to soften her words. “It does make sense that he would eventually learn to go on without you.”

“Yeah,” I answered quietly, “that was my original intention at the time I left him and went to New York. I wanted him to go on without me.”

“Are you saying it’s not what you want now?” her eyes let me know that she was truly concerned for me.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully as I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers from the ‘fridge. I handed one to Sakura.

“You know, Eiri,” she said quietly as she accepted the offered beer, “Shuichi was never really the same after you left. His manager and NG Studios kept Shuichi completely out of sight for over half a year after he got out of the hospital.”

I took a moment to consider if I really want to know what I was about to ask, “Did you see him? After I left?”

She nodded gravely, “Once, about two months after. I had an interview with Bad Luck at NG, Shuichi was almost as fun to interview as you were today. Seguchi-sama was present at the interview and I was given a limited number of things I could ask about. It was very controlled.”

“Was it … Was he,” I inhaled deeply, “as bad as I have been led to believe?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “really bad. He was… not himself. Distant, hollow, empty: all those cliché words that describe someone that has suffered the loss of a loved one. He was also skinny and frail, his face had a sunken, skeletal appearance from the weight he had lost. He looked physically ill, Eiri. No pictures were allowed. Even the pictures the paparazzi managed to take disappeared. NG was rabid about keeping Shuichi out of the public eye.”

“What,” I had to swallow the lump growing in my throat, “How did he …”

“Go on?” Sakura finished for me and I nodded.

“I don’t know for sure, Eiri,” she continued as she opened her beer. “There were lots of rumors about Shuichi and a tall, long-haired blond musician with green eyes.”

“Was it Inoue?” I whispered.

She nodded, “Yes, Eiri. Inoue. His hair was dyed blond then, but there’s no disguising those eyes of his. The tabloids were crazy trying to make them a couple, but Shuichi always denied it.”

Tohma had been straight with me. Inoue had indeed saved Shuichi. Damn the man! I wanted to kill him, not be indebted to him!

“Eiri, maybe you should seriously try and figure out what it is that you want,” she leaned back in the chair. “It’s clear that you still love him, you know. At least it’s clear to me, but probably not to Shuichi. You two have always had a very complicated relationship.”

“Huh. That’s your polite way of saying we have a totally fucked up relationship,” I stared at her as I took a swallow of beer.

“Maybe,” she raised an eyebrow at me. “But maybe in your case, “fucked up” translates to “passionate.” Hey, Eiri, do you remember the first time I met Shuichi?”

“Yeah,” I almost smiled, “I do.”

Years before, when Shuichi and I had first gotten together, Sakura had been in a horribly abusive relationship. One evening, I got the call I had been expecting from her. She was at a bar, fairly close to my house, and needed assistance. I left the apartment in a hurry, without leaving a note. I found Sakura, drunk at the bar with a very impressive black eye.

“Do you need a doctor?” I asked her slowly as I sat down next to her, “You’re kind of a mess.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel better, Eiri,” she said as she swallowed a shot of whiskey.

We drank together for a couple of hours. For some strange reason, Sakura felt it was necessary to continually justify her actions to me. I, of course, told her that she had been an idiot for staying as long as she had. I have mentioned that verbal comfort is not one of my strengths, haven’t I?

When she was so drunk she could barely stand, I dragged her to my car, “Come on, you can stay with me tonight,” I told her as I pushed her into the passenger seat. “I’ll visit your “boyfriend” tomorrow and sort everything out. But you better not puke in my car, okay?”

“M’kay,” she muttered as her head rolled back against the seat.

My phone rang just as I managed to get her strapped in.

It was the brat. He was screaming at me for not leaving a note and where the hell was I, etc, etc. I told him I was on my way home and hung up.

Sakura had turned her bleary-eyed stare towards me and slurred, “Eiri, did you finally get yourself caught? That sounded as if you have a girlfriend now.”

I smiled at her and lit a cigarette, “I thought you were a reporter. Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Hey,” she defended, “I just write the crap, I don’t read it. Anyway, I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” I was still smiling. “I can’t wait either.”

“Will she be okay with you bringing home a girl?” she asked me.

After taking a deep drag from my cigarette, I started the car and fought back a laugh, “No, I’m certain that she will be in a complete snit when she meets you.”

When we got to my apartment, I had to literally drag Sakura off the elevator, swearing at her to stand up on her own as I fumbled for my keys to unlock the door.

That was when the door flew open and there we were, Sakura leaning against me, my arm wrapped around her waist, as the two of us faced my pink-haired fury.

Shuichi was beyond livid with me. He was accusing me of screwing around on him. I’m not sure I’d ever seen him so angry. I had to finally push him up against a wall and kiss him before I could even get a word in edgewise. He was so adorable I could barely contain my lust for him.

My boy and I had quite the passionate night of it. I’m still amazed that Sakura managed to sleep through any of it.

“And you guys managed to keep me awake the whole night! In spite of the fact that I had nearly drunk Japan dry,” she growls at me with the memory.

“You heard us that night?” I asked with surprise as my mind landed back in the present.

“Holy gods, Eiri, you’ve got to me kidding me!” she laughed. “You two probably kept half of Tokyo awake that night what with Shuichi’s screams of “Oh, Eiri! Yes, fuck me, Eiri!” Not to mention your own continuous moans and howls.”

“I do not moan and howl,” I snapped at her.

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, “Is that so? Well, having heard it first hand, I would beg to differ with you.”

I glared at her.

“You two are something else,” Sakura muttered as she shook her head. “Not to mention how many people are attempting to put two you back together.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked with suspicion.

“Didn’t you know?” she asked cautiously, beer poised at her lips. “Seguchi-sama asked me to check into what happened in Yokohama two years ago.”

“He did?” Tohma. That meddling bastard. “When?”

“Oh, about two weeks or so ago,” she answered.

At least a week before he had mentioned it to me. That meddling bastard!

“Sakura,” I said evenly, “be sure that you remember not to trust Seguchi.”

“Uh, okay, Eiri,” she mumbled as she shifted her eyes away from me.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, “Don’t tell me you still have a crush on him?”

“Well…” she grinned and shrugged at me in resignation. “Oh, come on, Eiri! He’s hot!”

Sighing I said, “Whatever, you freak. But I’m telling you, be careful, Sakura. Seguchi Tohma is never what he seems.”

“He said that he would make sure that I would go on tour with the three bands,” her eyes shone with barely contained excitement. “You know, an exclusive “on the road with Nittle Grasper, Bad Luck and Suspended Animation.” That will be a great opportunity for me.”

“Uh-huh,” I glared at her, “That is if your “investigation” doesn’t get you fired in the meantime.”

She nodded gravely in agreement, “Yes, that is a worry. I’ve already stepped on a few journalistic toes trying to get what I need.”

“And?” I asked.

“And what?” she said innocently.

“What did I do in Yokohama two years ago?”

“You don’t know?” she tipped her head.

“Sakura…” I said with a warning tone in my voice.

“Okay, okay,” she smiled. “I’m not done yet, but supposedly, you slept with several women on your trip to Yokohama.”

“What?” I blinked my eyes at her.

“Yeah, you man-whore, you,” she grinned at me.

Ouch. Did she know that was the word Shuichi had branded me with?

Noticing my discomfort her grin vanished, “Sorry, Eiri. I was just teasing.”

“Sakura, I shouldn’t have to remind you that there are always stories out there about me and various women,” I said snappishly. “There are almost as many stories about Shuichi.”

“Yes, I know. And about both of you having x-number of bastard children,” she took another drink.

“So this doesn’t make any sense, why is this story any different? Why would Shuichi get so bent out of shape over this particular story?” I could feel my frustration mounting over this situation.

“That was Seguchi-sama’s question as well.” She inhaled deeply before continuing. “The only difference I could find so far is that Shuichi was in Yokohama at the same time.”

I shook my head, “He wasn’t in Yokohama.”

“Yes, he was.” She corrected me, “And what makes it even more confusing is that one of the women claims that Shuichi walked in on the two of you while you were… indulging in a tryst.”

Slamming my beer can on the counter hard enough to douse myself with the spillage, I said through gritted teeth, “That never happened!”

She looked at me with sudden concern, “Eiri, I have an interview set up with the woman. So far, she and some of the others seem to be very credible. The incident with Shuichi happened in your hotel room. I’ve confirmed that. Are you positive you weren’t fooling around?”

I glared at her.

“All right, all right! I believe you. But you have to admit, it looks pretty bad.” She sipped again and looking over the rim of her can she asked, “Didn’t Shuichi ever talk to you about it?”

“No.” I remembered him screaming at me in the hallway at the NG party, “Sort of. He wasn’t reasonable about it. I told him the truth, I told him that I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

She snorted, “That’s a classic line if I ever heard it.”

“Yeah,” I answered, remembering again that night and the absolute rage in his accusation. How long had he let that fury seethe before he unleashed it on me? How long did he suffer in silence, convinced that I had done something wrong? What’s more, convinced that I knew it and I was - what? Simply pretending it hadn’t happened? How long did that slow burn of anger sit on simmer before he couldn’t contain it anymore and it burst out of him in the form of the insane fight we had? Why hadn’t he tried to talk to me about it sooner?

That thought was foolishness on my part. I knew why he hadn’t.

Because I would have told him he was an idiot and dismissed his accusations as delusional. I would have brushed him off with harsh words and cold, emotionless irritation. I wouldn’t have listened to the pain he was feeling and gods know, I wouldn’t have attempted to make him feel better or alleviate his fears. He knew what my reaction to such a confrontation would be better than I did.

I, on the other hand, had been totally blind to his suffering.

Thinking back on it, I do remember him closing in on himself. The eerie quietness of the house I had attributed to him finally maturing and calming down. I remember his guarded, angry looks and his temper getting shorter and shorter. And the longer and longer “work” nights.

But most of all, I remembered occasionally hearing his quiet sobbing at night. I would never mention the crying for fear it would drag me into an emotional conflict.

I could be such a selfish bastard.

“Oh gods,” I groaned. “Does Seguchi know about all this?”

She nodded at me sheepishly, “Yes. He does now.”

“Fuck, Sakura,” I said shakily. “None of that ever happened!”

She shrugged at me, “Maybe only Shuichi really knows what happened, Eiri. Maybe it was just a case of mistaken identity or; maybe there just happened to be a Yuki Eiri doppelganger in Yokohama at the same time.”

Jolting at her random remark, I said slowly, almost tasting the bitter word, “Doppelganger?”

Fuck!

“Sakura,” I said quietly, as the pieces finally slammed into place. It is so obvious, why hadn’t I thought of it before? I could be such an idiot sometimes. “Could you to do something for me?”

“Of course, Eiri,” she smiled at me. “Anything.”



The next day I sat staring at my email again, and this time, I nearly laughed out loud. Mizuki had managed to clear me on the Suzuki front. At least partially, anyway. I suspected Tohma was somehow involved in the sudden “confession” of Suzuki Sai, but at this point, I didn’t particularly care.

My biggest concern was if Shuichi would believe it.

Mizuki had sent me a blind carbon copy so I sat back and wait patiently for my wailing apology from the brat.

I didn’t get one.

In fact, I didn’t hear from him for several days. I sent off my queries to him, asking him if everything was okay.

Nothing.

I was starting to panic, almost ready to call Tohma in London when I received a quite a surprise.

I answered the knock at my door to find an official looking man in a three-piece suit holding a clipboard, “Yuki Eiri?”

“Yes,” I answered softly. “What’s this about?”

“Could you come with me to the parking lot, please? I have a special delivery for you.”

I slipped on my shoes and followed him down to the parking lot. In my parking spot was a brand new Mercedes-Benz. It was beyond beautiful.

It had a large, pink ribbon on it.

“Could you sign here, please, Yuki-san?” the man said as he handed me the clipboard.

“Y…yeah,” I said stupidly as I continued to stare at the lovely piece of machinery in front of me. I signed without looking down.

He handed me a set of keys and an envelope and left me, still standing in the middle of the parking lot, my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

I stepped closer.

The sleek black beauty had charcoal grey leather upholstery and burl walnut wood trim. The car was a special model by Mercedes and each one was hand assembled. It must have cost a fortune.

Sliding into the front seat I slipped the key into the ignition and started it. The car roared to life and the sound was so sexy it nearly gave me a hard-on.

I opened the envelope in my hand. Inside was a barely legible, handwritten note from Shuichi.


Eiri,

Mizuki-san told me about the Suzuki woman. It appears that I jumped to conclusions once again.

I’m sorry for what I did to your car. I hope this helps make it up to you.

Love,
Shu


Well, my, my.

It wasn’t the crying apology I had originally hoped for, but I found that this was an acceptable substitution. Suddenly, I felt perhaps things were beginning to look more positive for Shuichi and me.



One night, not long after my new car arrived, I received an email from “Cheshire Cat.” There could only be one person I knew of that would go by that name.

Sakuma Ryuichi.

Wary about it, I ignore the email for a few days. Finally, though, I found my curiosity got the better of me and I opened the email to find an attachment file and a short note that said:


Yuki-san,

We thought you might want to see this.

Love,

Kuma-chan and Ryu-chan

PS: Pay close attention to Hiro-kun and Kyo-kun.


The attachment was a digital video of one of the acoustic jamming sessions Shuichi had mentioned in his emails. The picture was occasionally jumpy but I found the subject to be riveting.

The opening shots were of Inoue sitting on a bench facing a piano, Nakano sat on the bench also, facing the other direction with his guitar in his lap. The two leaned against each other, speaking softly to one another as they shared a cigarette.

Hmm.

Shuichi sat alone on a stool in the middle of the stage not too far from the piano. I could see a drum kit in the background but I couldn't see the drummer.

The three of them joked around for a moment before Shuichi attempted to speak to the crowd in his broken and mangled English. The recorder stayed trained on Nakano and Inoue and after a few moments Inoue leaned closer and whispered something in Nakano’s ear. The guitarist smiled shyly at my rival and then he reached out and stroked a strand of Inoue’s long hair.

Hmm. Perhaps Inoue was not my rival any longer. Was that what Sakuma was inferring when he instructed me to watch them closely?

The camera moved and focused on Shuichi. Apparently, audiences can find Shuichi charming even when they don’t know what he is saying because the crowd hung on his every misspoken word. Well, more likely, they were simply trying to understand what the hell he was saying.

Shuichi explained that the song that they are about to perform is an old standby from a well loved British band. He further explained, with a melancholy smile, that it is also a song that he sings for his one “true love.” The camera panned around and caught my boy straight on. When he moved, I could see the silver glint from his necklace.

My curiosity about the necklace got to me and I froze the player and looked closer at the screen. My breath caught as I stared at the vision before me. Around Shuichi’s neck hung a silver bobble that upon closer examination turned out to be a stylized name in English.

Eiri.

Now, where would he have gotten that? Before I had left him, Shuichi had quite the collection of necklaces, bracelets and other pieces of jewelry with my name on them in Kanji. But he never had anything in English.

The necklace must be new.

My heart is pounding in my chest when I started the video again.

Inoue began playing the piano. I knew the song and I my breath caught again as I listened to Shuichi sing the sad, heart wrenching tune with all his soul.

Love of my life,
You hurt me,
You’ve broken my heart,
Now you leave me

Love of my life can't you see,
Bring it back bring it back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me

Nakano’s guitar whined to life and joined with the piano as the song continued.

Love of my life don't leave me,
You've stolen my love you now desert me,

A female singer I recognized from Suspended Animation appeared from the shadows and joined in singing harmonies with Shuichi and Inoue. I also heard Sakuma join the singers, but I couldn’t see him. I continued to listen to them and I had to concede, they sound very good together.

I watched, mesmerized, as Shuichi closed his eyes and poured his heart into the song.


You will remember when this is blown over,
And everything's all by the way,
When I grow older,
I will be there at your side,
To remind how I still love you
I still love you

Hurry back hurry back,
Don't take it away from me,
Because you don't know what it means to me

Love of my life

The video ended and I sat very still. A steady, persistent pressure throbbed in my temple, it was the blood pumping through my veins in time with my heart. I suddenly realized I was having trouble breathing. But it wasn’t because I was having a coronary or a stroke or even an attack from my ulcers.

It was because I was crying.

I closed my email and called up a website. Somehow, through the haze of my tears, I managed to book a flight to London departing in a few days.

I needed to see him. Email or not, and shallow as it sounded, our best discussions, our most intimate feelings, were expressed with our bodies and not our words. I needed to touch him, to feel him so I’d know, without a doubt what was in his heart.

I needed to claim him as my own again, my very soul depended on it.

However, before I could run to him, there were still a couple of things that must be seen to before I left Japan.



“Now, you will watch this cat while I am gone and not one piece of his fur will be out of place when I get back or, so help me, I will skin you alive,” my words are very, very sincere. “In fact, you are going to have to work very hard for me not pummel you to death no matter what.”

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

“I don’t think that you do, brother,” I spat at him. “You have totally fucked up two peoples lives for two fucking years, Tatsuha! Two years!”

“I told you, I’m sorry!” he groveled at me. “I really didn’t know that you didn’t know!”

There was real fear in his eyes. Good.

“Gods, Tatsuha,” I rubbed my hand through my hair as I flopped onto the couch. “You are such a complete bastard!”

“I know, I know! I’m really sorry, Aniki!”

He sounded so convincing, but I was still so angry with him, I was afraid I would completely lose it. It was important I remained several steps away from him at the moment. Perhaps for the rest of eternity.

“Is that why you were so afraid of Shuichi?” I was trying not to shout, but I knew I was. “Is that why you were involved with “helping” him?”

“Yes! I didn’t know how to tell him,” Tatsuha was nearly hyperventilating with terror.

It was strange to see my brother so racked with guilt, fear and embarrassment. It was very out of character for him, leading me to the conclusion he really was afraid of Shuichi’s wrath. I found Tatsuha’s profound panic over the situation to be somewhat mollifying.

Sakura had done what I requested and checked into all the tours I had been on in the two years before the Yokohama book tour. It seemed for the year prior to my visit to Yokohama, the story was nearly the same every time and in every town. Women claiming that they gotten lucky and had slept with the famous novelist Yuki Eiri while he was in town.

Tatsuha was a sneaky fuck, I’d have to give him that. And I had to admit, it was a pretty good scam, it had worked flawlessly for over a year. That is, until Shuichi had wanted to give “me” a surprise visit and had walked in on Tatsuha and his girl of the hour. It seems the term “man-whore” was especially made for my brother.

After a little interrogation Tatsuha had told me that Shuichi had walked in, saw a glimpse of my brother in his fake blond hair, freaked out, shouted a few choice insults and walked out.

My idiot brother hadn’t said a word. If he had, if he had said anything, I’m sure Shuichi would have figured it out instead of walking out, totally convinced of my infidelity.

Of course, the girl of the hour had a few choice things to say as well. She had been very clear with Sakura as to what she thought of Yuki Eiri, the lying womanizer. Apparently, Tatsuha’s standard pick up line included something about being heartbroken over the recent break up with Shuichi.

Suddenly my brother looked up at me and said pleadingly, “You aren’t going to tell him, are you? I think he might really kill me.”

“I think Shuichi will have to get in line behind me if he wants to kill you,” I snarled at him.

“And me,” Mika added from behind me. She says it very, very softly.

I have to fight back a shudder. For all my bravado, and all of Tohma’s string pulling, the most frightening person in my family was Mika.

“Eiri,” my sister gave me a smile, “I’ll take care of Tatsuha now, and the cat. It’s time for you to go and talk to Shuichi.”

“Mika…” I started, unsure what to say or how to thank her. I knew she would do her absolute best to make sure Tatsuha would forever regret his actions.

“Go, Eiri,” her smile intensified as she turned to Tatsuha, “The cat and I will be here when you get back. Although I’m not sure our brother will survive.”

I grabbed my suitcase and gave the cat a goodbye scratch under the chin. He blinked slowly and lovingly at me. I felt better with Mika here to take care of him because for some strange reason, the cat adored my sister. On the other hand, he utterly despised Tatsuha, so much so the cat will actually stalk my hapless brother through the apartment.

The result is that Tatsuha is mortally terrified of the cat.

Tatsuha whined at me, “No, Eiri, don’t leave me.”

I stepped out of the door and as I shut it, I heard a long cry of despair, “No! Don’t leave me alone with them!”

Shuddering again, I thought about Tatsuha and the very rough week ahead of him. Not only Mika to make him miserable, but the cat as well.

Of course, this would all be for nothing if I couldn’t get the brat to believe me.

Many hours later, exhausted from travel as always, I stepped out of Heathrow and lit a cigarette, looking for the limousine that Tohma told me would be waiting for me.

Instead, I found the long-haired, green-eyed demon, Inoue. He smiled as he approached.

“What do you want?” I snapped at him.

He laughed in response, “Why, Yuki-san, is that anyway to greet your ride?”

“Tohma sent you to pick me up?” I couldn’t believe it, how could Tohma do that to me? That bastard must be planning something.

Continuing to smile Inoue said, “Do you find anything strange with that arrangement? After all, I do know London very well.”

It did actually seem strange. Very strange. I looked into Inoue’s eyes, as usual they were full of merriment at my discomfort and maybe… a hint of cruelty. Warning bells chime in my head and I considered, for a moment, that perhaps it wasn’t Tohma behind this.

It was of no matter in the long run, though. I finally decided to go with him as I picked up my suitcase and said, “Which way?”

He was grinning at me now, and he motioned me to follow him as he strode towards the parking lot with his long-legged, slinky gait.

After one final pause, I followed him, but I couldn’t deny that I had a very bad feeling about this.

Very bad.



TBC

Lyrics for If I Can’t Change Your Mind by Bob Mould
Lyrics for Love of My Life by Queen

For a picture of the Mercedes you can go here:
http://www.mbusa.com/models/main.do?modelCode=S65&src=MODELSELECTOR
If you look under “Build your own” you can see the interior. MSRP $169,775