Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Another Heaven (Weiss Kreuz Style) ❯ Scene 9 - 11 ( Chapter 3 )

Name: Androgene

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

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: Another Heaven (Weiß Kreuz Style)

Summary: Yohji is a police detective and Aya is a male strip dancer. When a serial killer is on a rampage, Yohji and his partner Crawford are called in to investigate. Soon they realize that the killer is not human and his next target may just be Aya. AU fusion - YxA

Category: Drama, angst, romance (the usual)

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Yaoi! Het sex in this installment.

Started: 1 Nov 2002

Completed:

Author's Notes: I had made up my mind not to continue this fic some time ago. Got too many things on my plate, and I have some original ideas I wanted to explore. But the recent input of requests changed my mind. I guess, what the heck, the damned plot is already there for me to use. No need to crack my brain to come up with a plot. So here I am, back with the next installment of 'Another Heaven'.

Characters appearing in this installment are: 

Hayase Manabu - Kudoh Yohji

Ooba Asako - Fujimiya Aya/Ran

Tobitaka Ken'ichirou - Brad Crawford

Akagi Kouzou - Bishop

Makuta Yuuji - Ken Hidaka

Sasamoto Mina - Asuka aka Neu

Kimura Atsushi - Nagi Noe

Crime Buff Kid - Omi Tsukiyono

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz belongs to Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. Another Heaven is a production of Omega Project Inc/Another Heaven Inc/Shochiku, and directed by Joji Iida. These film and anime do not belong to me and I make no profits from them.

Scene 9 - The Thing About Brains

       Yohji hated the morgue.

Okay, maybe hate was too strong a word to use. Dislike came closer to it. The inability to get used to the sterile silence and sterile white environment could not be overcome despite his best efforts. There was a sense of finality about the morgue - every time a steel fridge door shut its occupant in, it declared the person's death more loudly, more decisively than a funeral could ever do. Every time he watched the good doctor Bishop performed an autopsy, he wondered with morbid fascination how long before it would be his turn to be on the table. After all, even in Japan, working as a cop was still a hazardous occupation.

       He and his partner arrived just as Bishop had finished the autopsy. The good doctor greeted them with a smile, "Perfect timing."

       "What did you find?" Crawford said without preamble.

       "Something unusual from the norm and out of the ordinary in the context of your case."

       "Like what?"

       "The girl still has her brain."

       Yohji blinked. "You're kidding."

       "It shrank and dried up in one corner of her skull, less than a quarter of its usual size. That's why you thought her skull was empty. It took me some time to find it." Bishop gestured vaguely to a preservation jar. "I have it there if you want to take a look."

       Yohji shuddered. "No thanks."

       "You have to put it back, Bishop." Crawford said. "Her parents are coming tomorrow to collect the body."

       Bishop sighed in disappointment. "I suppose it's going to be a cremation."

       "Yes."

"Pity. I would like to keep such a rarity."

"Never mind that. What I want to know is how did she survive with a shrunken brain?"

       "Medically speaking, it's an impossibility." Bishop's muffled voice became clearer as he removed his mask and scrubs. "The girl shouldn't have lived for as long as she did. I also found something else. Her brain is riddled with ulcers."

       "Ulcers?" Yohji frowned. "As in brain ulcers?"

       "Yes. Poor girl must have had such a headache. The pain from the constant migraine alone would have crippled her."

       Yohji was quick to see the connection, or rather the incongruent connection. "So how did a slip of a girl, with a shrunken brain and a constant migraine go around killing her victims?"

       Crawford sighed irritably. "She nearly killed two men, and according to Kase-san's account, she was in fine shape when she seduced them."

       "This autopsy report doesn't agree with her behavior in the victim's account. It might just get the case thrown out of court."

       "Why don't you let the attorneys worry about that?" Bishop pointed out. He smiled at the detectives. "After all, we have the murderer and she's dead. I say the case is closed for you."

       To his surprise, neither man appeared to be happy about that fact. "Nani? Am I missing something?"

       Crawford frowned and looked away, arms folded across his chest, a clear sign of 'I do not want to talk'. It was Yohji who volunteered to explain. "We are having a disagreement."

       "Sou ka."

       "Crawford is all for closing the case since we have caught the serial killer. But I feel otherwise. Call it a hunch or whatever, but I don't think this young lady is our killer."

       "Damn it, Kudoh." Crawford snarled, his patience clearly at an end. "The evidence from Kase-san's apartment, his own account, all point to Schon Kashiwagi as the serial killer. What more do you want? A written confession from the girl herself?"

       "Look at her Crawford. She's a slender girl. Where the hell did she get the strength to crack Kase's jaws with one kick? And if she did -"

       "IF?!"

       "- If she did, then she must be under some kind of influence," Yohji continued doggedly. "We read her background. Does she strike you as a psychopath?"

       Crawford dearly wanted to throttle his partner but he settled for taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

       "I'm just saying the pieces don't fit, that's all."

       Bishop hummed thoughtfully. "I think the both of you may be right. Schon Kashiwagi did murdered Kikyou and attacked Kase as well, but the impossibility in the face of her physical build do suggest external influence."

       Crawford gave him a dark look. "I hate it when you try to do our job."

       "Just trying to put things into perspective for you, Inspector."

       There was a polite knock on the door and an assistant poked her head in. "Detective Kudoh? You have a call on line 347."

       "Thanks." Kudoh crossed the room for the phone. "Moshi-moshi. Detective Kudoh speaking."

"Yohji," came the softly purred voice.

"Hello? Who is this?" There was something about the voice that set his alarms off.

"Schon was standing by that statue, wasn't she?"

"Are you Naoe Nagi? How did you know about that?" Yohji demanded.

"Think, Yohji. I know you'll understand."

"Nani?!"

"I left a present for you," said the lazy voice.

"Present?"

"Room 1009, Hotel Excellence. I left your present in there, Yohji."

Scene 10 - Copycat! Copycat?

       Dread was a cold seething lump in his stomach, churning and twisting, making him ill. The restless writhing increased with every mile to the hotel until he was a bundle of raw adrenaline and frayed nerves. The moment the car skidded to a halt at the curb, he was out of the vehicle and dashing into the hotel. The next few minutes rushed by as he blatantly used his police authority to bully the front desk manager's arm into giving them access to room 1009. What he found made the front desk manager bolted from the room puking, and Crawford to uncharacteristically punched the wall in sudden rage. 

       It was grisly, bloodier. There was a contained neatness in the previous murders but not this time. This time the violence and savagery of the crime overwhelmed the place. Blood splattered everywhere - across the bed, the floor, the walls and furniture. The sheets were literally soaked in it and it was used to scrawl 'For my beloved Yohji' across the wall. But the worst thing was the body: it was female - the first in the long string of victims - sitting upright in the blood-soaked bed with her glassy eyes open and her brain cradled neatly in her lap.

       Yohji stared, horrified but at the same time, oddly vindicated. Finally he had proof, finally the pieces fit. "Brains did this," he said aloud. "Somehow, somehow he escaped from Schon's head and got into Nagi's."

       Crawford glared at him as though he had gone mad. "What the hell are you on about? This is a copycat!"

       The hotel room phone rang. Yohji lunged for it but his partner was faster.

       "Do you like my present?"

       "Why the hell are you copying Schon's murders?!"

       Nagi chuckled. "I knew you would say that. Baka."

       "Shit! He's watching us!" Yohji yanked the curtains apart.

       Through the window they saw Nagi Naoe sitting on top of a huge ventilation shaft on the opposite wing of the hotel, right across from them. The young man, dressed in a slick black jacket and pants, smiled and waved jauntily at them with the hand carrying a cell phone.

       Crawford scowled.

       Yohji threw open the window and looked out. The ledge didn't go around to the other wing of the hotel. Without a word, he bolted out of the hotel room to find an alternative route. "Stall him!"

       Crawford didn't need to be told twice. He glared at the maliciously buoyant young man, his anger dissipating allowing his focus to return. "Who's the girl?"

       Nagi shrugged, "don't know. I picked her up from the streets." He carelessly threw away the cell phone and smoothly got to his feet, stretching lazily like a cat. His grin was one of satiated pleasure and bliss.

       "I'm having a fantastic time, Inspector." He spread his arms to encompass the city spread out before him. "This world is so wonderful. It's really another heaven."

       "You're sick."

       Nagi laughed. "I kill for pleasure, but your society watches my killings with fascination. So who's sick really? The doer or the watcher?"

       "Don't change the subject. Why are you copycatting the murders?"

       "Inspector, Inspector, you still does not get it, do you? What is that phrase - 'there are more thing in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'."

       Crawford's glasses flashed dangerously. He had just about had it with the cocky sadistic bastard.

       Nagi suddenly turned, his smirk transforming into a broad grin of joy when he spotted Yohji carefully making his way across another ledge towards him. "Yohji…"

       Yohji had his gun out and he did not hesitate in aiming it at Nagi. "Stay where you are."

"'I let myself drift in a current; I wonder where I'll end up'." Nagi smiled a secretive smile. "I know that answer now."

Clambering onto the ventilation shaft, Yohji cautiously approaching the manic boy. "You're under arrest."

"I'm feeling so good, Yohji." Nagi continued as though he hadn't heard him. "So excited at seeing you again."

"Shut up or I'm going to shoot," Yohji snapped.

Nagi glided closer and pressed his forehead lightly against the barrel of Yohji's gun. "Go ahead. Shoot me."

"You-"

Whatever Yohji was going to say was cut off when Nagi, in a move too fast for him to see, grabbed his gun hand and squeezed. He gasped aloud as pain shot through his arm and tried to pull free. But the boy was stronger than he looked - much, much too strong.

Another vicious twist caused him to cry out. Nagi yanked him close, making him stumble. The boy grabbed him in a too-tight embrace and twisted, forcing him to clutch at Nagi for balance. Nagi's grip was so tight that he could not even struggle to break free. For one of the few times in his life, Yohji knew fear as he stared into the boyish face with the mad smile and dead eyes.  

Yohji heard the purring whisper, "I missed you," before Nagi kissed him, full on the mouth, to his horrified surprise.

It was a kiss much too intimate, much too demanding and much too familiar. Yohji struggled to break free. He felt like he was kissing himself, or rather someone so much like himself that it terrified him. 

Just as sudden, Nagi broke the kiss and shoved him away. Yohji stumbled and fell, curling up and cradled his much-abused arm protectively against his torso. Spitting to get rid of the terrible taste of the kiss, Yohji glared up in revulsion and fear at Nagi. "What are you?"

Nagi laughed. "Don't you know? You should know from our kiss."

From the corner of his eyes, Yohji saw a flash of white as Crawford lunged to tackle the psychotic young man. He watched, incredulous, as Nagi easily tossed the large man aside - right across the narrow gap into the rooftop parking lot of the neighboring building.

Crawford landed unceremoniously on top of a car, slamming into it with so much force that the roof buckled and the windscreen shattered. Limply, he slid off into a crumpled heap on the cement ground.   

"Pathetic." Nagi blew Yohji a kiss. "See you around, Yohji."

As both injured cops watched in stunned amazement, Nagi took a running leap and vaunted to the building across the street - an impossible jump across an impossible distance. 

Yohji staggered to his feet, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Across the street, Nagi landed safely on his feet. He spun round and sketched a theatric bow, laughing all the while.

Superhuman, the thought suddenly popped into Yohji's mind. Super abilities, super cruelty…Aya's right. I'm dealing with a superhuman.  

"Shoot him!" The shouted order caught Yohji's attention. He looked over to the neighboring building. Crawford, face lined with pain, was grimly hauling himself to his feet. His brown eyes, though, were hard with anger and determination.

"Shoot him, Kudoh!"

Yohji lifted his gun but he didn't open fire. The laws were very clear on this point: The cops were forbidden to shoot at an unarmed person no matter the provocation.

"Never mind about the rules!" Crawford knew exactly what was going through his partner's head. "Just shoot him! Bring him down before he kills again!"

That was all the encouragement Yohji needed. Jaws set, he carefully took aim at the psychotic young man preparing to jump across to another building. Just as Nagi leapt, he fired. He saw the figure twisted in mid-air and felt a rush of victory. He had gotten the killer good.

Yohji exchanged a triumphant look with his partner and the both of them hurried for the exits.

The triumphant feeling didn't last long. It gave way to dismay and renewed frustration when they both finally arrived at the place where they expected to find a body but all they found was nothing and just some blood streaking the side of the building.

"What the hell-?" Yohji swore. He looked up the building and both ways down the alley. "He couldn't have survived the fall!"

"Inspector, Detective!"

They turned as Manx and Ken ran up to them, having been alerted through the police radio.

"What the hell is going on?" Manx demanded. "First you tell me of a copycat murder, then 911 gets calls from panicked civilians about a gunshot."

"We wounded the murderer," Crawford informed in a clipped tone.  

The tinkling of a bicycle bell caught their attention.

"There he is!" Yohji shouted.

Nagi, seated on a bicycle, waved to them from the mouth of the alley and pedaled away.

They gave chase immediately. Dashing out into the street, they saw Nagi disappearing into the traffic, pedaling too fast for someone with a bullet wound.

Yohji made a mad dash for his car, Crawford at his heels. He didn't noticed Manx and Ken heading for their own car as he pulled away from the curb, burning rubber. He was so focused on catching Nagi that he didn't even know that Ken lost control of his car at a sharp turn and crashed into another car. He was hell-bent on catching Nagi. He had to catch Nagi. Somehow he knew if he failed this time, the killings would become much more personal. 

They pursued Nagi for a long way into a residential condominium estate. Despite being on a bicycle, the boy managed to retain a good lead all the way. As his car screeched to a halt in the estate's parking lot, Yohji saw only the abandoned bicycle and no sign of Nagi.

Both cops got out of the car, trained eyes scanning the quiet estate.

"We have to split up to find him," Yohji stated.

"I'll take the rooftops, you take the grounds." Crawford pushed his glasses up, the lens glinting ominously under the sunlight. "If you see him, shoot him."

"Be careful. You got hurt."

Crawford smirked. "But I'm not the one who got kissed."

Yohji glared at him. Without another word, he stalked off to the nearest block.

Crawford, still smirking, headed off in the other direction. The condominium estate, like every other residential areas, was quiet in mid-afternoon with hardly anyone around. He quickly scouted around the dumping area and stairwells, hoping to surprise the psychotic killer out of hiding.

He did surprise someone. Not Nagi, but a young boy who yelped in fright when Crawford suddenly popped into his view, gun brandished in his face.

Crawford glared at the boy.

Definitely still schooling, with blond hair and wide blue eyes. The boy wore T-shirt, a dark blue hooded windbreaker, khaki shorts with suspenders and red canvas shoes. Headphones dangled around his neck. What the hell was the kid doing out of school at this time of the day? 

Gulping, the boy scrambled to his feet and scurried away, far away from Crawford's unforgiving glare.

Mentally shaking his head at the youngsters nowadays, Crawford resumed his search.

At the other block, Yohji wasn't having any luck. Swearing, he raked a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew he had nicked the boy good. It wasn't a fatal wound if Nagi could still ride a bike, but it had to be bleeding enough to slow the boy down eventually. Or even leave Yohji a trail to follow. But he found nothing. It was as though the boy had somehow disappeared into thin air. For all his superhuman abilities, Yohji didn't think disappearing into thin air was part of his repertoire.  

The police radio in the car crackling in the distance reached Yohji's ears. He jogged back to the car to answer the call - also, he needed more men to search the area.

"This is Detective Kudoh-"

Too late, he sensed the presence behind him. An unnaturally strong arm snaked round and pressed against his neck, holding him in a stranglehold. He couldn't move, couldn't even turn his head and he was fairly choking.

From the backseat, Nagi leaned forward. "Why do you look for me, Yohji?"

"You're a murderer," Yohji gasped out. "You have to be stopped before more people die."

"People? They are just sheep, mindless sheep. This world is filled with too many of them. One less wouldn't even make a dent in the population."

"Only a psycho would say that."

Nagi laughed. "Hypocrite. You don't give a shit about these mindless sheep if they live or die. Admit it, it's the thrill you are addicted to, the thrill of the chase, the morbid fascination with the crime, the instinctive understanding you have of the criminal's mind. Admit it, that's why you became a cop."

"You don't know anything about me!" Yohji wheezed out, trying futilely to escape but choked as Nagi tightened his hold. He cringed as the boy's hot lips pressed against his ear.

"On the contrary, I know you. I know you from the moment I touched your hair. Such beautiful hair. I know you don't give a damn even if the world goes to hell in a hand basket. I know you are apathetic on a good day and cruel on a bad day. I know you're not the altruistic type because you simply couldn't sympathize with anyone's plight. You just help because a normal person is supposed to help."

Nagi softly nipped his ear. "So you see, I know you. What I didn't know was that I was looking for you until I met you. I hadn't realized there was someone out there who was so much like me. You have no idea how happy that makes me, Yohji."

By now, Yohji was close to panic. The things Nagi was saying…they struck a little too close to the truth. He spotted the gearshift and desperately lunged for it. He had to get away from this monster! Slamming the gas pedal, he threw the car into full forward motion at full speed.

The distance was short but the impact was terrific as the car crashed into a tree. The impact nearly threw Nagi forward into the windscreen and slammed Yohji against the wheel and the breath out of him. It did, however, free him from Nagi's stranglehold and that was what he wanted.

On the verge of passing out, Yohji tumbled out of the car, weakly crawling away from the car. His vision was spotted with black and darkening. He vaguely heard several gunshots and the sounds of glass shattering but it all seemed somewhat muffled.

Was that a car driving off? He didn't know, much less care. All he wanted to do right now is lay still and try his damnest to get his head to stop swimming.

If only…

…someone would stop…

…shouting…into…

…his ear… 

Scene 11 - The Kindness of an Addiction

Waking up in a hospital was his least favored method. Being stuck in one for 'observation' - so said the doctor - was right at the top of his list of dislikes, below morgues. No matter which hospital it was, the walls were always white and the food yucky. And there's always nothing to do. 

Yohji stared blankly at the afternoon news on the tiny television set. The news being broadcast was the same as the news in the morning and yesterday - people are still dying because of violence and irrationality. The first female victim of the serial killer and the chase that landed him in a hospital were still hot topics.

He couldn't give a damn.

Yohji didn't care for the speculations, the accusations, the theories and god-knows-what. They were all wrong. They hadn't experienced first-hand the maniac intelligence behind the mind, the strangely emotional sensitivity the killer possessed and the terrible cruelty. Whatever he was, he wasn't a common psychopath.   

Even now, alone and secured in the police hospital, Yohji couldn't help but feel hunted. He could still see those dead mad eyes every time he went to sleep, could still hear those taunting but true words in his mind.

No, most definitely not a common psychopath. And now bearing a sick fixation for him.

For the first time ever, Yohji could understand how victims of stalkers felt.

The knock on his room door brought him out of his dark reverie. It was instantly forgotten when he saw who had come to visit him.

Murase Asuak-sensei stood at the open doorway, a white doctor's coat over her spunky pants suit and a bright smile.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite doctor," Yohji drawled, gifting her with his rakish smile.

"How are you doing, Detective Kudoh?" Asuka inquired as she approached his bed.

"Bored." Yohji deliberately looked her over. "Are you here to cheer me up?"

Asuka laughed. "Down boy. You're in no condition to be frisky."

"Well, if you are not here to cheer me up, what are you here for?"

"Doing a routine check-up."

"Ooh, sounds interesting. So how do you want me?"

Asuka lightly tapped his head with her pen. "Flirt. Be careful or I'll jab you in the butt with a needle."

Green eyes laughing, Yohji grinned unrepentantly back at her. "I look forward to it."

Yohji liked her at once. An attractive self-confident woman with a sense of humor and comfortable with these flirting games was a rarity in the conservative medical society in Japan. Add to the fact that she was out-spoken and genuinely interested in him only add to her attractiveness.

"Well, your concussion is gone. Ribs look to be healing nicely. You can be discharged in the next few days."

"For that, I'll take you out for dinner." Yohji said happily.

Asuka gave him a deliberately cheery smile. "You're on home rest for a week."

"What?!"

"Those ribs need time to heal and no way are you able to run after criminals in your condition."

"You got to be joking."

"Sad to say, I'm not."

"Asuka-sensei, I got a psychopath to catch. How about desk duty?"

"Uh-huh. You can't put pressure on those ribs yet. Home rest, boyo, or hospital stay - your pick."

Yohji eyed her with a gleam in his green eyes. "Fine, on one condition - you do the house-calls."

Asuka arched a playful brow. "Is that a dare, Detective Kudoh?"

"No house-calls, no home rest, Asuka-sensei."

"You got a deal."

"So dinner at my place?"

"Behave, Detective, and I might just reward you."

Yohji laughed. Boy, she's something all right. He could foresee an easy, lively relationship in the future.

The blond detective caught sight of someone standing outside his window. He blinked, startled to see that it was Aya, silent and still and with an odd expression on his pale face.

"I see you got a visitor."

"Wha-?" Yohji turned back to Asuka, mentally wincing when he spied the speculative look in her keen eyes.

"Rest well, Detective Kudoh. I'll see you again." Asuka winked at him before leaving his ward, pulling the door closed.

"Shit," Yohji swore under his breath. He just knew Aya had seen that wink, along with his obvious attraction to the doctor. And that was the last thing he wanted. Groaning inwardly, he dropped his head back against his pillow and closed his eyes. He didn't know how Aya was going to react.

It was a while before Yohji heard the window slid open and the quiet sounds of someone climbing into his ward. He opened his eyes a crack, warily eyeing the silent redhead.

Aya was obviously off work today. He wore a black sleeveless tanktop and worn black jeans. That strange expression was gone, replaced by his usual impassive mask that Yohji always had difficulties reading.

Despite his wariness, Yohji couldn't help but admire the man's sensual grace as he pulled up a chair by his bed and sat.

Calm violet eyes studied him. "Daijoubu?"

"Ah, daijoubu. Why the window?"

Aya looked away. "They wouldn't let me in."

Yohji stared at him, all thoughts of Aya's reaction chased away by that one statement. "What do you mean?"

"The guard at the lobby has my description."

"He has your description?" Yohji echoed.

"He wouldn't let me pass. That was on the day you were admitted. I had to figure out an alternative way to get in." Aya glanced at him and looked away again. "I didn't know security at the police hospital is so strict."

That wasn't true and they both knew it. The police hospital, though catering to a specific sector of the society, was still a public building.

Yohji had a very good idea just who had passed Aya's description and such instructions to the guard post. Mentally, he cursed Crawford who couldn't seem to stop interfering in his personal life.

Aya might not show it, but Yohji knew the discrimination hurt the private man.

Sitting up with some difficulty, Yohji reached out and grasped Aya's chin. "Look at me," he gently coaxed. He waited until those impassive purple orbs met his gaze and smiled. "You are always welcomed to see me. Never forget that."

To his surprise, Aya's expression darkened. "You came in contact with that thing."

"Yeah." Releasing Aya's chin, Yohji leaned back against the pillows, his mood somber again as he stared unseeingly at the television, remembering his terrifying intimate encounter with that thing in Nagi's body.

He heard Aya shifted closer, those violet eyes intent as the pale young man asked, "What happened?"

"…What do you see in me, Aya?"

Aya frowned at that odd off-topic question.

"When I was in the university, I had only one hobby and that hobby was more important to me than my studies, my family and friends. I was a crime buff. I had a shortwave radio tuned to the police band. I spent my free days and nights glued to that radio, listening and when a crime had occurred; I would rush to the crime scene just to see the police in action. When there was a chase, I would follow along in my car, watching every moment of the chase. The adrenaline rush, the thrill I get from my hobby, it was the best sensation I ever had.

"I didn't become a cop because I wanted to help people. I became one so I can experience the thrill of the chase first-hand." Yohji sighed and looked at the attentive Aya. "And it knows, Aya. It knows my heart. It understands me like no one else. Most people see me as that half-Gaijin paperwork procrastinator, the laidback detective with the charm but dedicated to his job. They never knew what drives me on in my career. They all thought it was because I care."  

Yohji looked away, reluctant to see Aya's reaction when he stripped away the façade he believed the redhead saw. He didn't think he could stand seeing the anger and betrayal in those beautiful purple eyes.

"Baka," came the soft reprimand.

Yohji stared at him, surprised.

Aya kept hold of his gaze effortlessly, those purple orbs calm and somehow wiser and more knowing than that thing's regard had been. "How many cops do you think join the force out of goodwill and caring for the general mass?"

"…"

"Very few," Aya answered for him. "A cop may serves and protects, but it is still a job, a work that needed to be done. Some join the police force with the idealistic hope of making a positive difference, but reality will always intrude, and those hopes will always have to be put aside so they can cope with life. Yet they can never let the people they vowed to serve and protect know at the end of the day they are nothing more than just case numbers. And they hid it so well that they didn't even realize it.

"But you, Yohji, you are different."

Yohji opened his mouth to protest but Aya did not give him a chance to speak.

"You are honest with yourself," the redhead continued. "You don't say it out loud but you know why you became a cop. And you do care, in your own way, or you would never had bailed me out when that bastard framed me for murder."

Aya leaned forward, resting a pale slender hand firmly against Yohji's chest. The blond detective could only watch in spellbound fascination as his redheaded lover spoke to him so intensely, violet eyes hard and bright with a conviction that could not be shaken.

"That thing rattled you only because somehow it knows the truth that you know, not because it made you realized why you became a cop."

"I understand that thing too," Yohji said in a hushed voice.

"Good. Then you stand a better chance of catching it than anyone else."

Yohji stared at Aya, bemused and with renewed respect. He had always known the redhead was intelligent despite the common perception of strip dancers, but not like this.

"You really can tell what's in people's hearts," he marveled softly.

Aya snorted, dropping his gaze, acutely aware that he might have crossed a line he vowed to keep clear of. "Isn't that what I've been telling you?"

Belatedly realizing he was touching Yohji, Aya tried to distance himself. He froze when a firm grip suddenly covered his hand.

"You didn't have to help me to sort this out. Why did you do this when you know I don't love you?"

"…"

The soft click of a lock turning and the sound of the door opening stopped whatever Yohji was going to say. He turned to look, wincing inwardly when he saw who stood at the open doorway. Oh shit… 

Crawford stood there, silent with surprise and a cold anger. Despite being handicapped by clutches, he was still an intimidating sight. The way his spectacles glinted only conveyed his displeasure at making his discovery.

Beside him, Yohji could feel Aya stiffening, turning rigid; his passion of conviction rapidly replaced by the aloof impassiveness and cynical chill. The redhead calmly pulled his hand from Yohji's unresisting grasp and he stood up, body language poised and defiant.

"What. Is. He. Doing. Here?" Carwford said in a voice so cold and emotionless that it dropped the room's temperature by several degrees.

Yohji tried to break the tension in the ward. "He's just leaving, Crawford." He prayed feverishly that Aya would leave the talking up to him but his prayers were in vain. Aya was not the type to avoid a fight when faced with one.

"I came to visit Detective Kudoh," the redhead said in an equally frosty and hostile voice.

"Visit? Is that what you do?"

It was amazing just how much ugly innuendo Crawford could put into that one simple statement.

Narrowed violet eyes blazed with sudden fury and Yohji had to grab Aya's wrist to stop him from physically attacking Crawford.

"Stop it. Fighting will not help. Calm down, Aya, he's not worth it." Yohji cringed inwardly when he felt the full brunt of Crawford's glare directed on him. "Go, go before he makes it worse."

It took a few moments for Aya to calm down enough to give Yohji a curt nod. The blond detective slowly released him, watching uneasily as the redhead deliberately took his time to leave by the door.

Neither man looked away, watching each other like two predators spoiling for a fight.

Impatient to get the redhead out of the place, Crawford reached out to grab him.

Aya viciously slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" he hissed, spitting each word out like venom.  

"Get out quickly then. This place doesn't welcome trash."

Aya growled, fists clutching.

"Aya, just go!" Yohji said sharply. He regretted his harsh voice when violet eyes glanced at him, flashing with hurt, but he had to stop the impeding fight. He couldn't allow Aya to give Crawford a reason to throw him into jail.

"Go!" he barked again.

And this time, the redhead did, his quick angry steps fading off into the distance as he stormed out of the room.

Yohji flopped back against his pillows, sighing in relief. Even with his eyes closed, he could still sense Crawford's presence in his room and his displeasure now directed at him. 

"Are you going to wait until he causes you to fall from grace before you come to your senses?"

"Stop it, Crawford. I'm not in the mood for it," Yohji replied tiredly.

"This is a police hospital. If you're seen together with him in here, I can't help you."

"And when word gets out that you have discriminated against a member of the public, I can't help you either."

"Discrimination exists. Live with it. But a cop hanging out with a male strip dancer has greater backlash, especially for you."

"Because it's a scandal for the police force?" Yohji retorted bitterly. "Scandals exist. Live with it."

"Inspector! Detective!" Ken barged into the room, breathless and disheveled from running. Wild-eyed, he failed to notice the twin glares directed at him. "They found your car!"

"What?" Quarrel forgotten, the partners came to alert.

"It's here! In the basement parking lot!"

Crawford promptly tossed his clutches aside and ran-limped out of the door. Behind him, Yohji grunted in pain as he scrambled out of bed, bruised ribs making their presence felt as he set off at a run.

They arrived at the basement parking lot. Already cops had cordoned off the area and forensic were swarming over the place. Manx was there as well, looking grim and worried.

"Did they find a body?" Yohji asked without preamble the moment he reached her.

Manx nodded. "Male nurse, with his neck broken."

"His brain?"

"Still in his skull. The killer seemed to be in a hurry this time."

"Bastard has got to be in the building somewhere," Crawford stated.

"I agree." Manx walked away from the scene, beckoning the two injured men to follow. "This place is no longer safe for you, Yohji."

"Wha-?"

"Crawford told me. It seems that the killer has fixated on you. I didn't really believe him until this happened - your stolen car abandoned in the building you're in."

"You are not going to put me under police protection," Yohji declared firmly. "I can't do my job like that."

"I won't lose one of my best detectives to a psychopath. Crawford can continue the investigation. I want you safe and sound."

"I won't be safe until that thing is caught or killed."

"I believe that thing is called a copycat killer and it got a name - Naoe Nagi."

Yohji shot Crawford a look. His partner simply shook his head imperceptibly. Apparently, Crawford hadn't told Manx about the possible true nature of what they were dealing with.

"Crawford, get your partner out of here. We're going to search the building."

"Yes, mdm."