That evening, Clive and I bring Imahara home in a taxi, while Alice-chan does the shopping. She brings in four bursting bags of groceries. "Clive, put Pochi-kun outside please, I need a little peace." She holds the puppy off with her foot until Clive picks him up and deposits him in the back yard. "Uta-kun, I did my research and I think this time, I found the best thing for you to eat for dinner with us."

"Oh?" I ask, trying not to look at Clive as he returns to my side.

"Yes, fish and fresh vegetables. I double-checked, nothing with allergy contradictions and the rest of us can have a nice sauce I'll make separately so that there will be no cross-contamination."

"Mom," Clive says lowering his voice, "that's awesome, but I wish you'd talked to me first. We only eat fish from certain farms where we know that the fish were fed a diet completely free of allergens. I hope you didn't spend too much money."

"It's ok, Clive; this was fresh-caught in the ocean this morning."

"That's wonderful, Alice-chan. Thank you. Just because I'm paranoid, I'll take my antihistamine pills now and I'm sure I'll be fine," I say, seeing the frown on Imhara's face.

I head into the guest room, Clive close on my heels. "You're not going to eat that, are you?"

"Of course I am, Clive, it is another mask I wear in order to be with you."

"Don't add more guilt on top of what I already feel."

"You're worth it," I say, pulling him in for a deep kiss that last far too long. I sigh, pulling away and hand him a syringe filled with clear liquid.

"What's this?"

"It's an anti-RC serum, just in case. Oh, by the way, is there anything special I should know about eating fish? I haven't had to do that before."

"Eat the body, avoid the bones. Mom always serves it without the head or fins, so no worries there. If you need it..."

"What?"

"You can, you know, snack on me a little."

I put my hand on his side, right below the ribs where there is a large scar about the width and breath of his hand. It was the first gift he ever gave me, and I loved and hated it at the same time.

"I'll be fine, but we need to go home, soon."

I pretend to chew each bite of fish ten times, and each smaller bite of vegetables five times, before I swallow the chunk whole. I drink a lot of coffee, force the food down my throat, and I smile the entire time. I'm so focused on this repetition that I miss Imahara's question. Clive pinches me below the table.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I yawn, feigning tiredness. Maybe I can be excused early if I need to sleep.

"What does your father do?" he repeats.

"Oh," I say, and use the pause as an excuse to put down my fork. "Nothing, he's in prison."

"For what?"

"Dad…" Clive warns.

"It's ok, I'm not responsible, nor accountable, for him. He's doing time for murder."

"That's unfortunate. What about your mother?"

"She's a hostess in Ikebukaru."

"At her age?" His head tilts just like Clive's does when he's confused, or disbelieving.

"She has a very particular set of clients," I chuckle.

"Ah, I see.. well, I don't, but perhaps that's for the better. And you do what, exactly?"

"I'm an artist. I sculpt."

"But you're blind?" His head tilts the other way. Alice is silent beside him, and next to me, Clive simmers angrily.

"Mostly, but I wasn't always."

"That must be a good hook: sculpture from a blind man."

"It is lucrative enough to provide for both our needs." I motion to include Clive. "If he wanted, Clive could stop working today and we'd be fine."

"But I like working," Clive speaks up. "In fact, we're going to have to head home soon. Now that we know you're not dying, I think we'd better get back to our clients."

A knife clatters against the plate. "Dammit, I guess the anesthetic is still affecting me," Imahara swears.

"Oh, dear, you're bleeding," Alice says in a monotone, getting up from the table.

"Look at that," he says, holding up his finger as a thick drop of blood plops onto the table top.

My gut clenches, trying to repel the human food to make room for the tasty meal in front of me. The smell of iron and life in the air swirls in my brain. My stomach makes a loud querulous noise.

My Kakagun flares and my eyesight returns sharply, showing each individual fragment of the blood falling from his hand; it is the only thing I can see. The room spins in a kaleidoscope of colors and scents. I close my eyes, fighting off the vertigo, and try to tell my starving body that I'm not really hungry.

"Something is disagreeing with you?" Clive asks, seeing my distress. "Maybe you should go to the bathroom." He pulls at my arm, trying to shake me out of the stupor.

"Yes," I pant. "I think that's wise." I force my legs to unlock below the table and stumble to my feet and toward the bathroom. Alice passes me on the way, returning with a plastic bandage that might stop the bleeding, but won't stop the scent of blood in the air.

Getting the poison out of my system is harder than it used to before I met Clive and lost my gag reflex. I can't just stick my fingers down my throat anymore, and it takes much longer than it should to visualize something vile enough to make me vomit up the dinner. I spend too much time in the bathroom, so when I come back every eye is on me.

"You don't look too good," Imahara says. "In fact, you're looking a little gray."

"I'll be fine."

"Do you need…?" Clive asks, placing the syringe on the table. I wave off the offer.

"What's that?" Alice asks.

"Epinephrine: it's an injection in case he has a severe reaction."

"I'm fine, really," I say, but Clive doesn't look convinced.

"Well, that's what you get when you're in love with a Ghoul," Imahara says.

I'm back on my feet without conscious thought, the dining room chair clatters over behind me. Clive rushes in between us, providing a much too small shield.

"What are you talking about, dad? Do you know how insulting –"

"And you've got to get better at covering for Freak Show's ass. The lies you've been telling are really weak, son. If you're going to protect him with only half the effort he protects you with, then you're not an equal partner in this relationship."

"What… You can't just say…"

"Stop, Clive, it is over," I tell him, maneuvering him so I turn sideways. From this position I can spin Clive a hundred and eighty degrees and out the front door with little effort, but for now he can still see his father if he wishes to look. "How did you know?"

"I suspected, so I had Alice lower the lights, those sunglasses might be good in bright conditions, but the red really stands out the darker it gets. So, Freak Show, let's get a gander at those eyes."

I slide the glasses down my nose, and he nods.

"Huh, I've never seen a Ghoul up close before. That's interesting."

"You're a fool," I accuse. "Even if it was only a suspicion, why would you purposefully cut yourself in front of someone you thought was a Ghoul – especially one who hasn't had a fresh meal in almost a week?"

"Just playing a hunch, Freak Show. It wasn't like you were just going to come out and admit you were a Ghoul. And, thank you for not eating anyone while staying with us. I'm not sure if that's just considered polite among Ghouls, but we appreciate the sacrifice."

"Are the CCG on their way? Or are you intending on calling them now?" I ask.

"Neither."

"Dad, don't you dare! Oh, wait, what?"

"What?" He echoes with a shrug. "You two have been together for twelve years. If he was going to eat you, he would have fattened you up and done so by now. You're too damn skinny to make a good meal, and besides, no one would put up with your crap for that long, if he was just planning on eating you."

I chuckle; Clive turns into me, hiding the left side of his face in my shoulder. He's not as amused. I tilt my head down and kiss his hair.

"See, Clive, I've been watching that body language between the two of you, and he has clear affection for you. He gives off a vibe that shouts he'll protect you with his life, and kill anyone who tries to hurt you. That's good enough for me. I'd rather he was a she, and there were spoiled grandchildren in the future, but…" he shrugs again.

"I'm so confused," Clive mumbles into my shoulder. I slip the glasses back up my nose.

"I think he's trying to apologize," I say, stroking his hair. "What makes you such an expert on body language?"

"I'm not surprised Clive didn't tell you. He always hated it, but I'm a criminal profiler. I was a consultant for the police."

"He'd analyze me all the time," Clive whines. "I couldn't handle it… the fact that he's doing it now… to you… to us…"

"I don't know how else to understand people, son. It's a gift and a curse."

My eyebrow raises, "You're not going to turn us in? Turn me in?"

"Eh, I'm retired. As long as you don't eat me, Alice, or Pochi-kun, or really anyone while you're staying in our home, I won't complain."

"I think that's the best you're gonna get, darling," I say, running my hands along Clive's arms. He snuggles into me a little closer, his hands clutching at the back of my shirt.

"Clive, come here," Imahara says, "please." Alice-chan gets up and helps me clean up the mess I made when the chair flew backward, and Imahara pats the empty chair, inviting him to sit. Clive perches nervously at the edge of the chair, his hands gripping each other.

Imahara lifts his hand toward Clive's face and he flinches. He stops, then tries again, brushing the fall of dark hair back from his son's face. He studies the scars there for a moment, then locks his eyes on Clive.

"Freak Show, you said you took care of the guy that did this, right?" He says without looking away from his son.

"That's right."

"I'm asking this as a father, not a cop… did you eat him?"

"Part of him," I admit, something I haven't done even with Clive. "An asshole that large could feed a family of Ghouls for a week; I'm more of a nibbler than a gorger."

"I'm sorry that my behavior taught you to think you deserved such scars, son. I know it drives you crazy, but honestly, I just don't know how else to relate to you. You're nothing like me, or your mother; not that that is a bad thing, but it is scary and confusing to an old man like me. I don't know if that'll ever change, but maybe we should try again, now that we are both a little older, if not wiser. And I like your boyfriend, you two should visit more often."

"His name is Uta, dad. I want you to use his name from now on, and mine too, while you're at it. I'm not a boy anymore, and right now I'm not sure I want you to call me son, either. Prove to me that you're repentant, even if you are an asshole, and I might come back and visit you again – without thinking you're going to die."

"I actually don't mind him calling me 'Freak Show,' I think it's kinda funny." I shrug, but neither of them are listening to me.

"Uta-kun," Alice-chan says, "Is there anything I can serve you that won't make you sick?"

"Plain water and black coffee," I tell her, gratefully.

"I'll put on another pot of coffee," she smiles, and for a split second I can see past her mask and see that there is a woman behind her eyes, one who feels, and loves both the men in her family. The image of her mask becomes strong, and suddenly I know the colors. The liquid will be clear, with black and gray blobs floating in it, but the lining of the eyes in the three dimensional sculpt will be blue, and somehow I'll figure out how to make it cry yellow tears. Yes, those colors will work perfectly for this woman.

"My son… Clive, says I'm not allowed to call you 'Freak Show' anymore, so despite the fact that we both think it's funny, I won't do it anymore," Imahara says, like we are old friends conspiring against Clive, when I sit down at the table again.

"I don't know, I might get him to call me that when we're in bed together tonight." I smirk; Clive is stunned, and Imahara is speechless for a few seconds, then laughs like he hasn't heard anything funnier in his entire life.

Once he's back in control of his breath, he turns and looks at Clive, shaking his head. "Who would have thought that we would come together over a mutual affection for a Ghoul?"

Thanks so much for reading! I have more plans for Uta and Clive, so stay tuned for new stories. Your reviews, favorites, and follows are always appreciated.