There's the sharp crack of a gun that isn't Jigen's Magnum and Lupin feels pain blossom out from his thigh. He moves his leg and it aches in protest.

He hears the magnum now, followed by a shout that means it's hit its mark. He grits his teeth and moves towards the Fiat – looking for his partner as he does so. He sees the brim of the Borsalino from behind a balustrade. The gunman moves to shoot and catches Lupin's eye. He motions with his head – next street. Lupin scrambles for the Fiat and groans in relief as the engine sputters to life. He sees Jigen move out the corner of his eye and he slams the gas – turning the corner with a screech.

Then the world stops. He sees the other men before Jigen does. He shouts and Jigen turns, lifts his arm. His gunman is quick – but not quite quick enough.

We're getting old.

Jigen dodges two of the bullets but the third finds its mark in his shoulder. He lifts the magnum with both hands, shoots once, twice, and the bodies hit the ground. He turns towards the Fiat again. He takes a step towards the car and Lupin's stomach drops. He hears two gunshots, the another two. Jigen's name is torn from his mouth as his gunman's eyes widen comically. The man crumples – taking the last stumble towards the fiat and grabbing the door. There's another shout as Lupin leans across and heaves Jigen forcibly into the car. The other man pulls the door shut behind him, grimacing – growls something that sounds a lot like 'Drive!'. Not that Lupin needed telling, he's already slammed the accelerator – his heart pumping so fast he's sure Jigen can hear it from the other side of the cab.

They make it out of the city and he side-eyes Jigen to try and take stock of the injuries. His insides twist at the sheer amount of blood he can see – at the pale skin and closed eyes.

Looks worse than it is – it's always gonna look worse.

His own shoulder wound is oozing and he can see dark patches on his dress pants. Jigen moves restlessly, groans, and Lupin catches a glimpse of red on the side of his shirt. The gunman coughs, then rasps, "Where we going Lupin?"

Lupin doesn't answer him straight away. He's trying to work out where they can go, somewhere safe – Jigen is going to need a few days at least to recover – and he's not feeling so hot himself.

"Take the next left"

The road seemed to go on forever, and time didn't seem to be working properly. They might have driven for minutes or hours, Lupin couldn't tell. The car was silent apart from the hum of the engine and Jigen's rasped directions – taking them further and further away from civilisation.

They pull up in front of a small hunting cabin – Lupin recognises it as one of Jigen's safe houses almost immediately and lets out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The weight of the day seemed to hit him all at once.

His leg ached, his head was swimming, he could feel the hum of anxiety rushing through him as he looked at Jigen's pale clammy face.

You're getting too old to be running around like this Lupin. He's getting too old for you to be dragging him around like this.

"Stop thinking, ngh..."

Jigen's cracked the door, gone to mobilise only to have his leg give way from under him. Seeing the gunman slouched over spurs the thief into action. He limps around, sliding Jigen's arm over his shoulder, steadfastly ignoring the wincing, "Come on old man."

The gunman leans heavily on him as they make their way to the door of the cabin.

"M'not old."

That's where you're wrong Jigen – we're not 25 and 27 anymore, invincible and ready to take on the world.

They stumble up the stairs, Jigen dropping heavily with a mumbled, "Fuck!" Lupin heaves him up again, breathing in the smell of gunpowder, cigarette smoke and blood.

They get inside and Jigen shrugs off his suit jacket wincing before collapsing heavily onto a chair.

"First aid kit, bathroom."

Lupin limps off obediently, finds the kit in the cabinet and stops only to swallow a mouthful of painkillers before handing Jigen a similar amount. He swallows and leans forward, hands reaching for Lupins thigh, "where'd they get you?"

Before he can answer Jigen's hands are on him, experienced fingers finding the entry wound, then moving, searching for the exit. Any other time Lupin would have been exceptionally grateful to have Jigen's hands on him, but there was too much blood on the both of them for even his adventurous kinks. He winces as Jigen's fingers race over inflamed tissue.

"Exit wound there. Least we don't have to worry about a bullet stuck in you as well."

Lupin hums mildly as he starts to return the favour. Jigen curses him as he peels the dress shirt off the wounds where the blood had congealed in a sticky mess. The shoulder wound starts oozing fresh blood and Jigen sags against him as he prods at it. The gunman grits his teeth as he moves downwards, fingers checking chest, abdomen, hips. Jigen's dress slacks are ripped and Lupin can see the two definite bullet wounds on his thigh. The more he looks the more detached he feels. It's as if he's merely an onlooker observing this gruesome display.

"No exit wounds," Jigen grunts, "Bullets are still in there."

"Shit."

Lupin can feel the air grow heavier as Jigen sends a pointed look towards the first aid kit. There's an audible click as Jigen undoes the clasp of his belt and pulls it through the eyelets. A scratch of leather as the belt is doubled over. A metallic clang as Lupin searches through the first aid kit, finally pulling out a kidney dish and forceps.

Jigen bites down on his belt, and Lupin goes digging for bullets.

With blood on his hands, up his arms, in his nose, he manhandles Jigen to the bed. The gunman goes willingly enough – reaches out to grab Lupin's trouser pocket on the way down, "Cigarettes."

Lupin smacks his hand away, "No" he says firmly, pushing down on the uninjured shoulder.

"Fuck you," he mutters, but there's no malice in it. He's asleep almost as soon as he hits the pillow, body betraying just how exhausted he actually is. Lupin removes his hat and places it on the bedside, gaze drawn to hair that's not as dark as it used to be anymore. Even his beard is more on the way to being salt and pepper than plain black.

You're going to lead him straight to his death the way you're going. And the worst part, your faithful silver fox won't even complain about it. He might even thank you.

Lupin swallows thickly, willing away the intrusive thoughts as he watches Jigen's chest rise and fall. He stands and limps back to the living area to admire his handiwork. It's looking more like a murder scene than a procedure room. He finds dressings for his own injuries and then moves towards the kitchen. Jigen always keeps bleach in the kitchen. He's got some cleaning to do.

Lupin thanks all the deities he's aware of that Jigen had the foresight to put a double bed in his safe-house when he's finished cleaning. Jigen is curled in on himself on one side, deep breaths indicating that he at least is sleeping relatively peacefully. Lupin finds a clean shirt and pants – one that looks like it actually might have been his own at some point – in the dresser. One of the benefits of having a friend with nearly the same stature meant that pretty much everything you owned ended up being shared eventually. Lupin gingerly lowers himself onto the other side of the bed – feeling an awful lot like a husband who's snuck in late and is trying not to wake his sleeping wife.

Fujiko would laugh at that. She's always said we were like an old married couple – complete with bickering and all.

Jigen groans and rolls over to face the thief. Even injured, his gunman is a hard man to sneak up on. Lupin yawns before he can stop himself, "Go back to sleep Jigen, lord knows I'm going to."

"Mmm" is the only guttural response he gets to that. Jigen's eyes are still closed and he curls back in on himself, shoulders relaxing slowly. Lupin lets his eyes fall shut, and he listens to Jigen's breathing even out as he feels sleep finally take him away.

Lupin wakes to find Jigen's head tucked into his side. He's not surprised, the gunman has a tendency to seek out body heat when sleeping if he has someone else in the bed. He's about to close his eyes again when he feels rough knuckles on his thigh.

"How's th'leg?"

Jigen's scratchy sleep-cracked voice sounds as though it's still laced with painkillers. That was good – Lupin didn't fancy being on the receiving end of anything the gunman had to say once they wore off. Precise fingers found where the dressing started and pressed – retreating only when the thief winced.

"Feels like it didn't bleed through – that's good."

"Mmm...hey!"

Lupin grabs Jigen's wandering hand as it moves suspiciously across his chest – likely on a mission towards the Pall Mall packet on the side table, "You're in no condition to be doing any of that."

The gunman groans, "I'd kill you for a cigarette if I had the energy."

The hand stills, then relaxes, finds a shirt button and tugs at it if only to have something between the lithe fingers.

"Is this my shirt?"

"Mmmm, hard to tell, I thought it was one of..."

"You have a drawer you asshole."

"What's yours is mine, dear"

The affection was accompanied with such a suggestive waggle of eyebrows that would have made lesser men pale and retreat. Jigen just grins, tugs the button once more before stretching out in an attempt to reach his beloved hat. He almost gets there when his shoulder gives out and he crashes down onto the thief with a muffled "fuck" growled into his chest.

"How many times have we been like this now – the two of us, bloodied, battered – refusing to admit that we may have bitten off slightly more than we can chew."

Lupin moves a hand onto Jigen's good shoulder gingerly. He can feel how tense the man is – he's like a coiled spring.

"Want a hand there buddy?"

He can feel the gunman's hot breath through the thin cotton of the shirt he's borrowed. He does need a hand, but Lupin is a veteran at this game they play. The one where they both pretend they don't need each other as much as they do.

"Nah, I just thought this might be a better spot for a nap."

"Well if I was Fujiko maybe that would be true..."

"Heh, for you maybe..."

They pretend. Jigen pretends that Lupin's fingers don't absently press into his sore muscles in 'exactly' the right spot – like, what the hell does the man think he is – a fucking masseuse or something; and Lupin pretends that Jigen's heavy weight over him doesn't make him feel safe, and secure, and above all, grateful that the gunman only has three bullet holes in him, in places that are easy to reach and not vital to continued life.

They pretend that Lupin doesn't run his fingers through the thick salt and pepper hair under the guise of continuing his massage. They pretend that Jigen doesn't close his eyes and tuck his head up into Lupin's neck. They definitely pretend that Lupin doesn't press his lips to the top of Jigen's head with barely whispered requests, 'please don't die for me – we're not getting any younger here."

They pretend Lupin's heart isn't stuck in his throat when he hears the smokey laugh, feels thin lips press against his neck in return, mumbled promises into his collar bone, 'you know I made my choice years ago. I'll die with a gun in my hand and a smoke in my mouth; and I couldn't think of a better place than by your side to do it..." They pretend that mouths don't meet because Lupin doesn't want to hear these things right now. Doesn't want to hear how his gunman would die for him. He knows it already, knows it deep down, and sometimes in times like these, it scares him because he knows its true.

The second time he wakes it's to the movement of Jigen standing gingerly. He watches the gunman through barely open eyes as he methodically picks up his hat, places it on his head – picks up the cigarettes, takes one out, puts the packet back down on the table – picks up the matches and limps towards the door. He gives him a few minutes to get to the porch before he grabs the open cigarette packet and follows.

They smoke in silence. Jigen's attention is on the car, it doesn't look too badly dented from the firefight. He mumbles something about fuel and oil around his second cigarette of the morning. Lupin produces a map and Jigen points at a town about an hour away.

Joints crack as they fold themselves into the small fiat. Lupin makes a joke about arthritis – Jigen laughs and says they can count themselves lucky if they get old enough to get arthritis.

'We're nearly there already' Lupin wants to say, 'We're already older than I ever expected to be with our habit of getting into life threatening situations.'

He doesn't though. He lights a cigarette and passes it to his gunman before lighting another for himself. He leans back and looks out the window, admiring the scenery before it becomes overtaken with civilisation once again. He looks at Jigen out the corner of his eye. The gunman's hat is low as usual – Lupin wonders how he can drive with it like that. His hands are steady on the wheel and he's got a wry smile that says he's somehow noticed Lupin observing him.

They're not getting any younger. Some days they feel it more than others. Right now, Lupin decides – with Jigen beside him, and the road ahead of them – the safe-house disappearing in the rear view mirror – getting old like this might not be so bad really. Even with the firefights and the bullet holes and mild existential dread that comes in the dead of night after a harrowing reality check that yes – they do both still have blood pumping through their veins and it's better to keep it inside rather than out – it's not so bad.

It's not so bad.

The back window shatters and the adrenaline rises. Jigen turns and lets out a mean barking laugh, all teeth. His foot hits the floor and Lupin turns to see the armoured vehicle behind them gaining speed. He catches the gunman's eye and returns his grin. Grabs the wheel as Jigen leans out the window, Magnum drawn and cocked, lining up a shot that no man should be able to make given the circumstances but he'll do it.

Fuck. It's not so bad.