A/N:

Hey my lovelies! Long time no see! Sorry for the wait, but here is the lat chapter! A special thanks to the wonderful Miyanoai. This chapter is still in the process of being beta'd, but Miyanoai is at a con this weekend, and that's where attention needs to be there. Seriously girl, thanks for all you do! I appreciate you more than you know, because these stories would be a lot worse without you.

***Epilogue***

Epilogue:

Akihito's hospital stay was a long, drawn out week. His doctor was professional and the nursers were kind, but he felt restless. It felt like they checked his vitals constantly, and he really would have killed for some pain meds. Two of his ribs had been broken when they resuscitated him. They were taped up tightly, but the pressure did not stop the soreness in his chest. It hurt to move.

Asami had been there every day. At first, he brought work and sat with Kirishima doing paperwork. By day three, he was sitting next to Akihito, silently holding his hand. By day five, they were talking about everything and watching zombie movie marathons on the television. Kou stopped by just as frequently but didn't have the luxury of being a billionaire. He still had to go to work. If Asami's hovering presence bothered Akihito, the photographer did not mention it. Rather, he seemed to draw comfort from the man, looking to him as an anchor. There wasn't the awkwardness that Kou expected, or the struggle to define themselves in this new relationship. They just were.

It was good.

"How much time are you taking off from the paper?" Kou asked his friend one night. Asami had to step out for a few minutes. He had gotten a phone call that made his eyebrows cross.

"The doctor wants me to rest for the rest of the month," Akihito frowned slightly. He did not look pleased at the prescribed bedrest. "Oshishi didn't mind when I told him." It sounded like Akihito minded, though.

"Well duh," Kou chuckled. He tried to stay positive. "You are making him a ton of money. If you need some time off, he should give it to you!"

Which was true. The paper's sales had exploded once it came out that Akihito worked for them. They had already made their monthly quota by the time Oshishi found someone to write a story from Akihito's perspective. Oshishi had so many reprints that they ran out of paper, which was slightly embarrassing. Wakazaki had given them some because he too was capitalizing on Akihito's heroics. He was the first to run the story, to explain why there had been illegal gunfire on a busy street and to herald Akihito as a hero.

"It's paid time off, even," Akihito admitted lowly. He flushed. He didn't really think that he deserved the PTO, but he was not going to object. It was the only financial gain he had from the terrible ordeal. "A whole month of it."

Oshishi and Wakazaki were gleeful about the news story. It looked like the paper was going to survive another quarter, if only because of Akihito. His editor demanded that he write his own account of the events as soon as he was up to it, reasoning that the public would pay even more for that story. Wakazaki said something about an autobiography when he called Akihito to congratulate him on saving an influential man's life. Takaba's name was once more a household one, and the public delighted in sending him get-well cards and flowers. Some even sent pocky. Kirsihima had a team filtering Akihito's mail, in case Tsukishiba tried to get his revenge. The politician had been arrested the same day, alongside Taoka and most of his staff. Yang had fled the country, and though there were rumors of extradition, Akihito knew that the Chinese would never turn over one of their own. Yang was safe from the Japanese government.

"You earned it," Kou said. He smiled encouragingly at his friend. "You saved a life, and you got a bunch of crooked government hacks off the streets. This was amazing."

Akihito rolled onto his side. It did not feel amazing. He was sore, embarrassed by the adoration and uncomfortable with the way people talked about him. When he had snatched the dossier out of Taoka's hands, he had not been thinking about right and wrong, or taking down criminals. No, he had done it solely to save Asami's life, damned be the consequences. He had put a lot of lives in danger, not cared about the taxi driver's cab fare or the vendor's souvenirs. He had caused just as much damage, and he felt bad because he wasn't sorry about it. Akihito would do it all again to save Asami.

"You get to go home tomorrow," Kou sensed that Akihito's mood had soured. He tried to stay positive, to keep his friend's mind from darkening. "That's exciting."

"Yeah," Akihito shrugged. Except he didn't really know where he was going. Kenzou had tried phoning a couple of times, and Akihito studiously ignored him. He wasn't going back to the stupid popcorn ceiling and the bloodstained floors. The police supposedly quarantined the apartment off for a few days while they processed the crime scene. Akihito did not know where Kenzou spent those days and he really didn't care. "I guess."

Kou had offered to let Akihito crash on his couch while he recuperated. It would be quiet and clean. Asami shot down the offer before Akihito had a chance to answer, claiming it was unsafe and that he needed access to medical care during his recovery. Which was true. He had a medication schedule, and his bandages needed to be changed regularly for another week. Plus, he had countless doctor's appointments and check ups to make sure he was healing correctly.

Akihito refused to move back into the penthouse. He wasn't ready to be so separated from his friends just yet, or his lifestyle. He liked being closer to the ground, closer to his peers and the local bars. He had never felt like he belonged in the posh penthouse with the uppity Real Housewives of Shinjuku sneering at him. That was one thing he did not miss about his old life.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"No," Akihito smiled wanly. "Asami wants it to be a surprise."

"Well, you make sure you text me the address as soon as you get there. Takato and I want to have housewarming party for you!" Binged drinking, pizza and video games. It would be a great Friday night. Kou's enthusiasm made Akihito's face brighten.

"That sounds epic," he replied. And he meant it.

Asami had been surprisingly accepting of Akihito's decision. He did not needle or try to convince Akihito to return to the penthouse. He nodded and did not bring it up again for the rest day, when he announced that he had found Akihito an apartment. "I don't need you to take care of me," Akihito told the fixer, though there was no heat in his words. Rather, a warmth pooled in his gut and made his heart pound a little faster.

"If you don't want to go to the condo and I don't want you to be somewhere unsupervised, we are going to have to compromise," replied the fixer, as he affectionately stroked the back of Akihito's hand. The photographer's brush with death had made the man introspective. Now he was sure to make small gestures of affection––like holding Akihito's hand while they watched a movie. The photographer never remarked on it, but he loved every second.

Akihito had not argued with him.

***Epilogue***

The police came to question him the day before he was released. They were stony faced and professional, not at all swayed by the media. Akihito appreciated that. They asked him how he discovered the plot, why he didn't think to go to the police, and did he kill Nishio in self defense. Akihito answered it all honestly (but left the part out about Asami being a ginormous crime lord) and yes, he did kill Nishio by bashing his skull in with a lamp. He should have been more sorry that he had taken another life. Asami reassured him that Nishio was the scum of the earth, a man who would kill any man, woman or child for a paycheck. Akihito had avenged countless lives and saved many more by ending the man.

"If we have any more questions, we'll look you up," the police officer promised. "Are you still apartment 308––"

"No," Akihito cut them off. "I'll never go back there again."

The detectives did not seem surprised. No one wanted to go home to a bloody carpet and a bad memory. "Where can we find you if we have any more questions? Just procedure," they quickly rushed to reassure him.

"Gentlemen," Asami smoothly interrupted. He walked into the room, a coat draped over his arm and Kirishima by his side. "You may refer any further questions to my lawyer."

"Asami-san!" the cops jumped up. Their eyes were wide and their palms sweaty. They had not expected the victim to be by the hero's side.

"Takaba-san is finished with your questions for today," Kirishima interjected before they could protest. Not that they had anything else to ask Akihito then, but being ushered out of the room insulted their pride. "Nurse Tonda will show you out."

The detectives left, surly grumbling. Once they were in the elevator, Kirishima nodded to Asami. "They're gone, Asami-sama,"

The fixer looked at his lover with a blind in his eye. "Excellent."

Akihito shifted in his hospital bed. "You look a little manic," he noted with some trepidation. Fisting his starched sheets, he asked warily, not entirely sure he wanted an answer, "What's going on?" Maybe Asami had been able to get ahold of Yang, or circumvent Tsukishiba's team of lawyers and end the bastard. Asami Ryuichi was always gleeful when he got his evil way.

Asami braced himself on the edge of the bed. "I am," he told the blond. "It's a good day."

The photographer perked up a little bit. This wasn't Asami talking all sinister, like a suave Dr. Evil. Asami seemed genuinely happy, which was a good thing. If he had to offed Tsukishiba, it must have been something legal, of which Akihito would never complain. "Why is it a good day?" Maybe he did want to know, after all.

"Because, my Akihito," the blond flushed at the endearment, "You are being discharged today."

"What?!" Akihito lunged forward. He winced at the pain that echoed in his shoulder. "No!" A jubilant smile split is face and excitement overwrote rationality. "The doctor said I can't leave until tomorrow."

"We are aware," Kirishima snapped open a small duffle bag. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. He tossed them to Asai who was helping Akihito swing his legs over to the edge of the bed. With a curt nod, the secretary slid the blinds closed before stepping out of the room.

"Then what's going on?" Akihito laughed softly.

"We are, as your friends would say, going to spring you out," Asami winked. He slipped the hospital gown off Akihito's shoulders. "Can you lift your arms up?"

"I'm not an invalid, you know,' chastised Akihito. He held his arms up, keeping his elbow under his tender shoulder. It hurt too much to lift it up all the way.

"Of course not," Asami tender pulled his short over his bandaged arm. "That's why you've been in the hospital the past ten days."

"Hey," the photographer pouted. Asami wrapped an arm around his waist to help him stand. "It's because of you I'm here."

Asami's grip tightened. Instantly all levity evaporated from the room. Akihito stilled while Asami's reply was so low that it was almost inaudible. "I'm very aware, Akihito."

"I'm sorry," Akihito put his hand on the fixer's chest. Blinking, he stared at the hard lines of Asami's face, unyielding in the eye of the storm and strong after all of the horrible years alone. "Just––forget about it. I didn't mean it. This is supposed to be a good day. Please," his breathy plea warbled. "Asami."

Asami's grip loosened. "Of course," his mood was dour but he played the happy charade for his photographer. "Come on," Asami helped him into he wheelchair. Akihito's legs worked just fine, it was his upper body that was tender, but it seemed that Asami was going to adhere stringently to hospital procedure, and wheel Akihito to the car. The photographer did not complain. He was just excited to be released. "Let's get you home."

Home. The word fluttered uncomfortably in his stomach. Akihito really did not have a home of his own. His parents lived in Okinawa, and though they wanted Akihito to recover in their home, the photographer refused the offer. He was an adult, and going back to his parents would have made him feel like a failure. No, he wanted to stay as independent as possible, even if it exasperated Asami.

The fact that Asami refused to tell him where he was going made the repudiation worse. It wasn't that he didn't trust Asami, because Akihito did. It was that the fixer had the ability to twist all situations to fit his needs first. The photographer was afraid that he was going to end up in some compound on the edge of the city, surrounded by men in Kevlar vests and no other people in sight. He loved living close to his friends. He wanted to be able to walk to Takato's for a home cooked meal, or crash at Kou's on nights when they drank too much. And Asami never wanted to be party to any of that.

It took a little while to get out of the hospital than expected. The staff had grown fond of Akihito during his extended stay, and matronly nurses stopped them to say goodbye.

"You've become quite popular," Asami noted as Nurse Tonda pressed a kiss to Akihito's cheek. The woman must have been pushing sixty, and has snuck him home cooked sweets when she learned that he didn't like the goopy hospital food. She was a favorite of Akihito's as well, and he would miss her rice balls. He meant to get the recipe from her. The surprise check out made it slip his mind.

"I'm sexy and I know it," the blond chuckled.

Asami chuckled as well. "Let's hurry before any more of your fanbase accosts us," he pushed Akihito forward.

***Epilogue***

He was grateful that they took a dark SUV rather than the limo. Though it was armored, and obviously expensive, it blended in more with the crowd. "I can get in the car myself," the photographer told Asami even as Suoh opened the door.

"I'm sure you can," Asami agreed. The fixer helped him stand anyway. Usually, he had Akihito scoot over to the other side before he entered the car, so the blond was stunned when Asami shut the door. Mouth dropping, he watched Asami circle the SUV to climb inside. The significance was not lost on him. If a sniper lay in wait, Asami's body was a shield for Akihito. It would be the fixer who died, not Akihito.

"Asami," Akihito ducked his head, and squeezed his eye shut, forcing tears back.

"Please, Akihito," Asami bent his head low, leaning in close. His breath was warm, his words soft––meant only for Akihito. "Call me Ryuichi."

Asami's arm was dangerously close to Akihito's. Maybe an inch separated them, and head still ducked to hide the flush of his cheeks, his fingers danced across the leather seat to brush over Asami's hand. "Ryuichi," he said.

Asami's hand turned, clasping their fingers together. Hope flit through golden eyes and for the first time in years, Akihito smiled for him. Not at him, but a smile because of Asami, only for Asami. True. Genuine. Happy.

***Epilogue***

"No way!" Akihito pressed his nose against the window, neck craning upwards. "No freaking way!"

It felt like they had been in the car for hours, but he knew it had been maybe twenty minutes. He was antsy, ready to get to their destination. The first few minutes they were head further into Shinjuku, and then Suoh had taken a sharp right turn. Akihito knew immediately where they were, and it stunned him. They drove alongside the boardwalk where he had contemplated his life a fortnight prior, and where he chose Asami.

Tall brownstones lined the bustling street, and if he bent his head back as far as it could go, he could see rooftop terraces. Twenty-somethings crowded the sidewalk, clutching coffees and talking excitedly. It was young, vibrant. Close to Kou and Takato, though they were not in the gentrified housing development. It was everything Akihito had dreamed of, but could never have.

"Asa––Ryuichi," he finally looked back at the fixer, turning too quickly and pulling at his tender arm. He winced. It was nearly time for his meds. "I can't––"

"This is our compromise, Akihito," Asami told him. "I won't separate you from you friends or put you back in a penthouse, but you are not living in the slums. You are going to have medical access, and a clean place to heal in a safe neighborhood. It's this or back to your parents."

"That's fighting dirty," he grumbled.

"Something you have accused me of multiple times," reminded Asami. "I can live with it once more."

Okay, so that was a little funny. The photographer cracked a smile as Suoh pulled the car over. Asami did not wait for his men, rather opening his door and waving Kirishima away, opened Akihito's. The photographer looked at him questioningly. "We are doing things right this time around," was all the fixer said.

The blond thought back to the past blur of days. There was never talk of them resuming their relationship. Instead of defining what they were, the two took the time to just be. There was natural rhythm between them, an undercurrent that did not need words. This was the first time that Asami voiced the desire to attempt an actual relationship and not some Stockholm entrapment. And though he was not sure that he wanted to resume a physical relationship with Asami, Akihito knew that he wanted the man to be a key figure in his life.

So he took the fixer's hand with a smile and let himself be helped out of the car. "If you insist," he teased.

The corners of Asami's mouth tightened, gold eyes shining. It was the closest thing Akihito would ever see to a smile while they were in public. It was enough.

"We will wait for you here, Asami-sama," Kirishima informed the fixer.

Asami nodded to the secretary. "This way," he motioned to the end building. It was four stories, with the fourth story having a private terrace and all outside walls were detached. Akihito wasn't the least bit surprised when the elevator door chimed open and he walked out into the fourth floor genkan. Of course Asami would not want noisy neighbors anywhere near the condo. If the man was going to spend any time there, it would have to be reasonably impervious to threats and safe from spies.

There was no doorman, but a receptionist nodded to Asami when they entered the lobby. She was beautiful, dressed in a tight shirt with an impressive amount of cleavage. Akihito recognized her from the bar months ago. "Why is there a guard pretending to work here?" he hissed. Resentment flared in his chest. Though never addressed, he assumed that he left all the baggage that he associated with Asami behind.

"For your safety," Asami punched in a key code for the elevator. The elevator only stopped at the condo with the matching code. "Until Yang is taken care of, you are a potential target. And I will not compromise on your safety, nor that of your family."

Akihito blinked. "My family?" he asked incredulously. He could imagine men in suits swarming his parents' house, guns drawn when his mom accidentally set off the smoke detector. She wasn't the best cook in the world.

"Your family has no knowledge of my men," the fixer assured him gently. "It's simply a precaution should someone think to use them against you." Asami knew that Akihito would never forgive himself if his family were hurt on account of him. This was the best way to protect all of the Takabas, especially Akihito. He would do anything for the tenacious blond.

"Oh," he hadn't thought of that. It had only been a few years since he left Asami, but it was so easy to forget how evil the man's world was. How ruthless and cruel humans could be. Asami had been that way, too, Akihito reminded himself. Looking at the man with the strong chin and kind eyes that could read his every expression, Akihito willed himself to trust that Asami had reformed, that he was a different person now, that he would be different with Akihito.

"I didn't think of that."

"No harm will come to them," Asami told him. "I promise you."

"Thank you," the worry that Akihito had not known existed until minutes before dissipated. Asami never one reneged on a promise. His family was safe.

The elevator doors chimed, opening directly into his genkan. "Whoa," it slipped out along with his breath. They were on the fourth floor––naturally–– but the unit had an open floor plan, giving it an industrial vibe. From his spot in the genkan, he looked out into the main living area. It's main function seems to be comfort. The couch liked so plushy that he was arias he would sink into the soft abyss and never emerge. A ginormous entertainment center sat across from it, and Akihito could see all of his CDs and games linking the shelves.

The kitchen was off to he left, stocked with food. There were stainless tel appliances, and a bar, complete with all the booze he could ever need. The entire back wall was made of windows, letting the sunlight in. There were no buildings to impede the new because they were so near the boardwalk. Water was as far as the eye could see. A table was against the glass wall, so he cold eat or work, while still gazing one Tokyo. Off to the right, was a door that opened to the rooftop terrace, complete with a hot tub. Akihito could have the coolest office parties out there.

"Asami," he slipped she shoes off. "I can't––" he stuttered in aw at the magnificence. "––This is too much."

"Our compromise, Akihito," the fixer reminded him.

The compromise. Yes. This or his parents. He expected Asami to find some place reputable, a place that he would never be able to afford, but this––this was his dream home. Every detail, every nuance suited his tastes perfectly. From the hardwood to the exposed brick and the leather against the metal, it was better than anything he could've imagined.

A thought struck him so forcefully that he took a step forward. There was nothing of Asami in the unit. Akihito looked questioningly at the tall man Asami put a hand between his shoulders, and gestured down the hallway. "There's more."

Akihito let himself be lead as they explored the rest of the place. There were two bedrooms teach with an en suite bath. In the mater, his cameras were inclosed in glass, displayed so masterfully that he wasn't sure he would ever use them again. His clothes filled up the dressed, had ample rom in the walk-in closet. Everything in the room was his.

"What's wrong?" Asami sensed his confusion.

Akihito gestured aimlessly, his head still turning, eyebrows pinched as he searched. it wasn't that the expected Asami to move in with him, or for them to act as fi nothing had changed, because Akihito was grateful for the change. He had expected something of the fixer's, something that tied Asami to the apartment too. Maybe a pack of Dunhills on the dresser or cognac in the wine fridge. Anything really. Something to suggest that they were going to attempt to have a relationship again.

"Akihito," Asami's baritone voice jerked him from his stupor. "Follow me."

The fixer took him wordlessly to the guest bedroom where he one the closet. Akihito's mouth dropped open. One suit, passed and ready to go, hung in a garment bag.

Akihito whirled around, mouth agape. "I don't understand.

"This suit is here for whenever you are ready," Asami answered.

"Read for you…to spend the night?" Akihito guessed.

"Yes. Akihito," Asami brushed a finger under his chin, pulling his gaze upwards. "I meant what I said. I will do right by the time. Part of that men's moving at your pace."

Asami had given Akihito a safe space where eh could control the pace of the relationship. He could act freely without wondering if Asami would barge in and molest him. A place. where he could heal independently, where he could live the life near his friends that he always wanted. Asami had given him everything he wanted

Head dropping onto the crime lord's chest, the photographer wept in thankful relief. Strong arms held him tenderly while Asami whispered soothingly. Any onus that reminded slipped from his soul, and Akihito finally, truly healed.

***Epilogue***

"They sat on the oversized couch, clad only in their underwear as they talked. They apartment was dark, lit only by the white straight that shone through the windows. It had been hours since they had touched, but Akihito could feel the comforting heat emanating from Asami. It amazed him how natural the day had felt, for though time had passed, there was no awkward stuttering or rushed apologies over faux pas.

"So, Suoh's dating her now?" Akihito's mind flashed back to the woman he called old. They were taking turns asking questions, trying to catch up. After all, a lot happened in those two years. Eventually, Akihito had to ask about Minamoto Yoko, and was stunned that she helped save his life.

"Yes," Asami nodded. He did not remark about any jealousy he thought Akihito might have had, which the photographer appreciated. "It's the first woman he has been serious about."

"Go figure," Akihito chuckled. "It's weird how things work out."

Silence settled for a moment as Akihito took a sip of his water. "Okay," he nodded toward the fixer. "Your turn."

The photographer had opened the door for past lovers, so he wasn't surprised that Asami asked about Kenzou. "What drew you to Fujioma?"

Akihito smiled self-deprecatingly. "Honestly? He was a rebound that turned serious. I met him at Obaa-chan's, one night when Kou let me drink too much. I was still angry with you, and he made me laugh, which felt good. I figured it would have a one night stand, but obviously I was wrong."

"When did it turn into something more?" asked the golden eyed man. He swirled the beer in his bottle, apprehension pooling his gut. This might be a question he did not want answered.

"Well," Akihito licked his lips. "I work up, and he was till cute, so the beer goggles weren't wrong. He made pancakes, and tried to look cool by flipping them into air." Akihito chucked fondly at the memory. "One of them got stuck on the ceiling, but we couldn't reach it. So we had to wait for it to fall down on it's own."

Asami quirked an eyebrow, "You entered a relationship with Fujioma because he got food stuck on his ceiling?" The fixer glowered in the darkness. His brilliant mind reeled, searching for a way to flirt with Akihito without seeming like he was competing with Fujioma.

"Yeah, I mean no," Akihito shook his head. "Kenzou made me laugh. He was a normal guy, and that's what I wanted. He was so everything that you weren't," the photographer leaned forward, gesturing with his good arm. "After we ended, I wanted to forget about you. Kenzou helped me do that."

"Forget me?" the words were softy, nearly a whisper int he darkness. The crumbling wall round Asami Ryuichi's heart shattered and raw pain flayed through him. Self righteous anger had mellowed the pain of Akihito leaving him, but this pain was mind shattering. The one thing in the world that he treasured wanted to forget about him, and Asami had no one to blame but himself.

"Well…yeah," Akihito sounded concerned, his hand reaching for Asami's arm. "I haven't had a tone of experience in the break up department, but aren't you supposed to forget about your first love and move on?"

The very breath in his body vanished. "You loved me?" he could bare speak.

"Yea, Ryuichi. I didd," Akihito seemed surprised that Asami hasn't realized the before. "Of course it wasn't a healthy love. I hoped I'd find that with Kenzou. Obviously you can see how well that went."

"What changed?" Asami asked, perhaps a little too quickly. He had to know what mistakes Fujioma had made, what he himself had done wrong, and what he could do to fix it.

"Nothing changed," the photographer shrugged, not entirely comfortable with he direction of the conversation. However, through some unspoken agreement, boatmen were being brutally honest. Out of respect for Asami, who would not have asked the question if he did not want to know, he answered truthfully. "We are just different people, and we don't mesh well together long term."

"How so?"

"Well," Akihito licked his lips, feeling a bit like he was being interrogated. "I'm a messy person, and he's not. I like horror movies and staying up late. Kenzou goes to bed early and gets up even earlier. We just don't suit each other well."

Compromise was w rod that suddenly floated between Asami and Akihito often. The fixer assumed that it was something Akihito practiced with Fujioma. Apparently, it took more effort to save a relationship than he first assumed. "And neither of you tried to change?"

"We were both too old, too set in who we were. Personalities just don't change, and you shouldn't have to change for your partner."

"Why not?" He was attempting to change for the blond, and Akihito seemed pleased with his efforts.

"When you love someone, you love them for who they really aren: the good, the bad, and the ugly. No exceptions," he responded. He eyed Asami shrewdly. "I didn't ask you to change, either."

"You did when you left."

Akihito already had an answer for that statement, because he had given their relationship a lot of thought. "No. All of you, I could handle. The smoking, the crime, the sex drive. None of that bothered me. All I ever wanted from you was respect."

"I've always held you in the highest esteem," retorted Asami. He, too, had given this significant thought.

If you truly respected me, you would have respected my autonomy. You don't get to control me or stop me from doing something you don't like."

"I discussed the dangers––"

"No," Akhit interrupted. "You told me what to do. If we had a discussion like adults do, that would have been one thing, but you would order me around like a dog. You continuously put me in a position where I had no choice but to rebel, or else I would lose my independence. I won't ask you to change, but you can't ask me to change."

There was nothing the fixer could say because it was all true. He could apologize, but he had done the so much that Akihito had forbidden him from doing it again. So they sat there in silence, contemplatively. There was no judgement emanating from Akihito, no anger or resentment. He was content to let Asami mull over his arguments. Asami would have given anything to know what he was thinking.

"We need to get you a new cell phone," the fixer stated eventually, just to break the suffocating silence. "You have to promise to not give this one to a vagrant." Mirth lead his last sentence.

Akihito smirked, pleased that his decoy had fooled the crime lord briefly. "I didn't want you tracking me with it."

"I tried," conceded Asami. "Once I realized you weren't coming home––"

They both froze, any levity in the room evaporating. Home. Together. Happy. It was too soon to talk about the good memories.

"When we found the phone, I knew you were running, "Asami continued on, studiously ignoring the pain. "I had men check Kou's home, Takato's, your parents. Anywhere you might be. I couldn't find you anywhere. You were just gone," he aspirated the last word. "At first, I thought you were taken, as unlikely as it seemed. I put out feelers, which turned up nothing. After a week, I was forced to accept that you left, and sent your things to Kou's."

"Forced?" That did not sound like Asami. No one could make the man do anything he didn't want to.

"Kirishima," admitted the man ruefully. He came home to the packed boxed and the secretary insisting that it was unhealthy for him to continue his manic search.

Akihito frowned. He never assumed that the break up affected Asami. The fixer was t typically detached, only showing emotion sure sex. They never smiled, never teased each other or flirted. Of course, Asami would shower him with unwanted gifts and watch a zombie movie marathon with him.

"What?" It was Asami's turn to sound surprised. "Did you think that I didn't care about you at all?"

"I figured you liked me, or maybe liked the power you had over me, knowing that I would always come back. But nothing beyond that," he shrugged.

"I didn't know that," the fixer countered. "Every time I watched you leave, my heart stopped beating. I couldn't breathe. I was so afraid that you would come to your sense and leave, or than an emu would fin you. Hurt you.

"Ironically, the only time I didn't think that was the night you left," Asami admitted.

"It was the only time I ever thought about leaving," Akihito was shocked, listening to Asami. First off, themas was discussing his feelings, which had always been taboo. That made the night even more surreal and freaky. However, he was more floored by Asami's feelings. He never knew that the fixer had cared for him so deeply.

"Where did you go when you left?" Asami Ryuichi was certifiably brilliant, but he never was able to deduce how Akihito escaped him. His men searched high and low, finding nothing. Asami killed one as both punishment and warning to the others.

Maybe he shouldn't tell, in case he needed to run again. Looking at Ryuichi's shining eyes, Akihito decided tot rust this new man, who was trying so desperately to change. "I kept riding the buss. Getting on one and getting off a few stops later. When they weren't running, I slept in the terminals. I knew you would be tracking my cell, so I gave it to the homeless dude, and made sure to go nowhere but the busses. I knew you wouldn't search in town after the first day."

"I didn't," Asami informed him. "I searched the country, but never the transpiration." He assumed that Akihito would not linger and risk being seen. It was bold, but his photographer had always been fearless. "Like I said, Kirishima was the one to call off the search." The secretary had become the acting CEO those few days, because Asami had become too crazed to think, let alone run Sion. It was or the good of the company and Asami that he ended things.

"I'm sorry," Akihito stuttered. The fixer could hear the tears in his voice. "I didn't know I hurt you. I thought you didn't care and––"

"Akihito," Asami's deep voice was solemn, stopping any apology. "It's better that this happened. This transparency would not have occurred prior to this. I am sorry that it took two years for me to come to my senses."

He tenderly stroked the blond's downy cheek. "Never doubt, Akihito, that I care for you. As much as I am capable of feeling, I feel it for you."

The blond leaned into his touch. Asami could feel him smiling.

***Epilogue***

Unsurprisingly, Asami stayed the night, and the two talked until the sun rose. The fixer showered and left for Sion. A little while later, his buzzer rang. It took him a second to figure out how to answer it, but he was glad that he did. It turned out that Asami hired Nurse Tonda to be his home healthcare nurse. She gave him his medicine and changed his bandages. Laughing at his eagerness, she promised to teach him how to make her rice balls.

When Asami came by to see him after work, he was surprised to see a home cooked meal on the table. Just like old times. Surprisingly, Asami didn't make it home that night. Or the night after. Or even the next night. Kirishima kept bringing clean suits and rewash underwear until Asami ran out. Rather than having them dry cleaned and returned to Asami's penthouse, the exasperated secretary retuned them to Akihito's, along with Asami's personal items from his home.

Akihito could feel the smugness radiate from Kirishima as the man dropped off the last box when he bid the two lovebirds goodbye. Asami and Akihito laughed quietly at the ridiculousness of it all as they spent a leisurely Sunday unpacking.

And all was well in their world.

The End.

***Epilogue***

A/N:

Thanks for seeing this through to the end with me. My love to you all!