Name: Androgene

Website: http://www.angelfire.com/space/noir13

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: The Wolf and the Abyssinian - Act 5

Summary: a Rurouni Kenshin and WeiB Kreuz crossover, with both worlds fused into an alternate one.

Date of completion:

Category: Drama, action, OOC galore, yaoi

Pairings: SaitoxAya, hints of YohjixAya

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their individual creators. Rurouni Kenshin™ is created by Nobuhiro Watsuki and WeiB Kreuz™ is created by Takehito Koyasu and Project WeiB. I don't own them and I don't profit from using these characters.

Author's comments: I can't help it. The idea of a SaitoxRan pairing just popped in my head while I was writing my other fanfic and it won't leave!

Warning: This is a yaoi story, meaning it had homosexual themes in it. Whether or not there are sex scenes, I don't know yet. But when that happens, I'll warn ya. So if you're uncomfortable with yaoi story, don't read it. It's as simple as that.

~ The Wolf & The Abyssinian ~

a WeiB Kreuz-Ruroni Kenshin crossover

Act Five Scene One

The rest of the week was a hazy blur to Aya. He barely remembered anything he did; he went through his daily routine like a robot, distant and colder than ever. Impossibly, he spoke less and interacted even less. He was positively chilly and rude to their daily crowd of fan girls, which got him the result he desired - lots of personal space and to be left alone. Whatever spare time he has, he spent it brooding in his room or in the little park.

Ken was nearly frantic and frustrated. He had grown to regard the aloof redhead as family and it was plain as daylight that something was bothering him. He tried to broach the subject and was brushed off by Aya so many times he knew better than to persist. It was a fact that Aya did not respond well to his brand of hovering anxious concern.

That left Yohji, the only one other of them who has experienced too much of the world's cruelty. But damn it, the playboy was not doing anything.

During a lull, Ken watched Aya discreetly from the corner of his eyes as the redhead hung up his apron after his shift and walked up the backstairs to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Ken immediately pounced on Yohji the second he came through the front entrance.

"Yohji! What the hell do you think you are doing?!" he demanded angrily.

"Whoa," the blond playboy held up his hands defensively. "I'm off today, remember Kenken?"

"I'm not talking about that," Ken said impatiently. "I'm talking about Aya!"

"Ah, he's still in a snit?"

"It's worse than that and you know it. It's like - it's like…if I hadn't known better, I would say he's got his heart broken."

Yohji arched a brow.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ken said, misinterpreting his look. "This is our Aya we're talking about, the icy aloof redhead of our little family. So what are you going to do about it?"

"Me? What about you?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "Hello, do you remember the last time I tried consoling him? I ended up with a bruised jaw."

Yohji chuckled, but his amusement did not quite reach his eyes. His emerald orbs were dark with worry and concern too. "I'm waiting for him to make the first move."

"Nani?"

"Aya needs to stew a little before he even allows me to talk to him about what's bothering him. When he's well and ready, he will search me out. Not before then."

* * *

He felt nothing, absolutely completely nothing. Empty to the world, empty in his heart. Distantly, he marveled at his complete detachment. No, not complete. There was an aching hole somewhere in his chest. Over the days, it had dulled from twisting agony into this persistent aching emptiness that refused to go away.

Lying on the couch in his bedroom, Aya stared aimlessly at the white ceiling, one arm flung over his head. Unconsciously, his other hand reached up and pressed against his chest.

It was as bad as when he had lost his family. Then he had nearly collapsed under the emotional trauma; only the responsibility of caring for his sister kept him away from suicide. It was the same thing all over again; he was hurting so bad that he felt like a walking open wound. Just trying to function as WeiB, living each day as it comes, with flowers and his blade like he always did, was an ordeal - tasteless and gray.

How…cold.Aya thought dully. How cold and empty my life has been. How cold it is now without Saito.

He found that he didn't much like the feeling at all.

That week with Saito was the best times he had in recent years. He had been warm and alive; he had been held and felt wanted, even cherished. He had felt like Ran before Takatori Reiji destroyed his life, and in demonstrating his love, he had given Saito everything of himself, including the key to his highly guarded heart. But it was all an illusion now, mere wisps o' willow.

He remembered his last words to Saito and winced at the truth in it. A murderer wasn't supposed to love or to be loved. He knew that but he went ahead and did it anyway. Served him right to get his heart broken. By someone even more callous than he was. Hopeless orchid eyes squeezed tightly shut. He was an idiot that was for sure.

Lost in his own misery, Aya did not hear someone entering his bedroom until he felt a light tap against his arm.

"Dinner time," Yohji said.

"I'm not hungry."

"Of course you aren't hungry. You haven't eaten breakfast or lunch either. So come down. It's takeout tonight, safe enough."

"I thought Ken was cooking."

"Neither of us wants to clean up the kitchen."

"I'm really not hungry."

He heard a brief exhalation that could be a sigh. "It'll be in the fridge when you are hungry."

Sounds of footsteps walking away and all of a sudden, Aya didn't want to be alone. "Yohji."

The blond stopped. "Hai?"

"He felt nothing for me."

Pause.

"And you?" came the quiet response.

"I love him."

Slowly, Yohji returned to his side, sitting down beside his couch. In the glimmer of moonlight, he could just make out the tear streak on an alabaster cheek. He reached out and clasped the pale hand resting on Aya's chest. The pale fingers tightened convulsively over his own digits.

A quiet sob escaped into the night. Another sob escaped him and another until Aya was crying hard gut-wrenching tears.

All Yohji could do was to hold onto his hand tight and just be there.

Act Five Scene Two

Saito sat in the darkness of his safe house, playing with his lighter. He idly watched the flame as it flickered in the darkness. The moonlight spilling in through the window next to him illuminated an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts by his side, as well as an empty cigarette pack. He was well on his second pack now, an alarming quantity even for him.

I love you, Saito Hajime.

The matter-of-fact declaration still rang through his mind. Golden eyes gazed beyond the lighter flame to the empty futon.

But I am not a thing to be owned.

He knew that. Human beings were neither things nor property. But a person can still be owned in ways that matter.

Ties, honor, blood...emotions.

Wasn't it obvious to his kitten? He had been possessive, attentive, always making sure that Aya enjoyed being with him. He even chatted with the redhead. Hell, he had never cooked this much in his entire life than he did in one week.

I love you, Saito Hajime.

Surely his intentions were made clear from the onset. Saito didn't believed in lip service. You didn't need words where your actions talk louder. Right? He had shown his interest in the young man and accordingly, claimed him as was his nature, marked him as his own every night.

But I am not a thing to be owned.

Aya hadn't appreciated it. Saito frowned, wondering where he had gone wrong.

The nights had not been the same without Aya to keep him company. The safe house felt colder somehow, less welcoming, his futon too empty. He still woke up in the middle of the night, reaching for the pale slender form that was no longer there.

I love you, Saito Hajime.

He missed the fascinating redhead - the fiery passion encased in pristine crystal ice. He ached for the redhead's presence, which astounded him to no ends. He longed to see the beautiful pale figure sprawled so wantonly beneath him, so beguiling in his passion, so vulnerable and sweet without his mask.

I love you.

He wanted to hold Aya in his arms again, and never let him go. Feel his passion running through his veins, red fire mingling with golden calm. Keep him close and treasure him forever, for he was certainly unique and utterly precious.

He wants him back, where he belonged, in his arms. He wants him back because…because…

I love you.

"Kuso."

Act Five Scene Three

After that night he had so embarrassingly broken down in front of Yohji (something which he had never done before), Aya resolved to put the whole Saito mess behind him.

He had done it before; he could do it again.

After all he had sold his soul for this life on the night his old life and heart were shattered, put himself back together into this cold hard Aya that faced the world now. How difficult can it get to put a broken heart back together again? Just go about his daily life and try his best to stop thinking about him.

Ignore the pain. It will go away in time.

The bed will not feel so empty forever.

And before he knows it, he might just stop shedding tears every time he sees his katana.

Aya sighed frustrated and gave up on the arrangement of lilies he had tackling for the last three hours. He hasn't been able to get anywhere with the floral arrangement. His mind was just not on the task at hand; he hasn't been able to concentrate on anything since that night he had stormed out of Saito's safe house.

He rested his head in the palms of his hands, elbows propped on the worktable.

Pathetic, he chided himself. He could not stop thinking of Saito's face, Saito's gestures, Saito's touches. Everything seems to remind him of the Mibu's Wolf, even the occasional dog being walked past the front of the flower store. He was pathetic, utterly pathetic.

The door chime tinkled softly.

Aya automatically lifted his head, mouth open to greet the customer. The words died before they could leave his throat.

Saito stood in the tiny confines of the flower shop, wearing a suit and a tie, and his usual impassive expression.

Somewhere distantly, Aya marveled at the thrill that jolted through him, the sudden leaping of his heart. His cheeks felt hot one instant and then chill the next. He remembered to start breathing and to put on his usual emotionless mask. He was insanely relieved that his co-workers were not present.

"Can I help you sir?" he asked as calmly as he could, rising from his workbench.

The tiniest of frown chased across Saito's brows. Aya saw that and was perversely pleased. The Mibu's Wolf hadn't expected his calm.

"I like to see your roses."

Aya fought to keep his nervousness under wrap. "Our roses are over there in that corner, sir."

Still coolly relaxed and impassive (Aya wondered if he could sense his skittishness), Saito began browsing and selecting the blooms. The redhead could not bear to cross the distance and help him as he would with any other customers. Already he was having trouble maintaining his usual composure; if he was to close the gap between them, Aya could not be sure of his own actions.

"I heard that this shop is well-versed in the Victorian language of flowers," Saito said conversationally.

"Yes, we are."

"Excellent. I have need to send a message to someone."

Aya swallowed hard. "Does the person know the language?"

"He is well-versed in it." Saito straightened and with a small bunch of various flowers in hand, he approached the counter. Solemnly, he gently handled the flowers over to Aya. "Correct me if I got the message wrong…onegai."

That one word nearly broke Aya's resolve. Saito was not the type to say 'please' even under torture. He slowly took the flowers from the older man, orchid eyes dropping to examine the blooms. His hands began to tremble as he deciphered the message.

The message in the flowers was clear: apology, asking for forgiveness and a second chance, and a declaration of love.

"Why do you need to send this message?" he asked faintly.

"Because I realize actions cannot take the place of words sometimes. It was…a mistake on my part, one which I did not spot until it has hurt him."

"Will he accept it?"

Golden eyes were bleak with resignation. "That is his choice. I hope he will though."

"If this rosebud is returned to you, then yes he has." A pale finger gently touched the fragile bloom. "But he will need time to consider."

"Hn. I have patience."

"Will you like me to wrap this up into a bouquet?" Aya asked softly.

"I'll leave the decision up to you. I'm sure you know what to do." Saito pulled out his wallet and laid a fifty on the counter, more than enough to cover the cost of the bouquet. "Keep the change."

Turning, Saito walked calmly for the exit, pausing to pluck a blooming orchid stalk from a vase. "I'll take this with me. It reminds me of his eyes."

Author's post-script notes:

That went better than I thought. I had trouble with the making up scene, trying to find something that is both sweet and romantic and yet is still them. Double talk ensued. I hope you find it as romantic as I did.

Flower language is a tricky thing. Many flowers have similar meanings, though I did try to narrow it down to just some of the more popular species. About the rosebud response the receiver is to give the sender, well, I made that up myself.