A/N: If you don't like Neko-Haru, please don't read. If you like the pairing but don't like the story, please bear with me.

Ouran High School Host Club

One-shot

Theme: Grave Robber
Character/s: Nekozawa, Haruhi, etc.
Written by: Lady Abbess
Message: Read, review and enjoy!
Standard Disclaimer Applied

Author's Note: This is more of a story made up of drabbles. I tried to have as much unity in this but this is what I've come up with so far. Maybe the next time, I would succeed in making this better. Mind you, this is, in any way, not connected to my other fic, Rigor Mortis.

Prologue

The French had been dead three years and counting, his body underneath the ground rotting away; mistaken for somebody else and the family that mourned for him was not his. He had been long gone; a distant memory of the past but the name on his grave was not his own. For too long he had been known as Nekozawa Umehito, the one who died a tragedy, when it really was him, Suoh Tamaki, the one killed for love.

It was the case of a mistaken identity, a foul murder, yet no one noticed. No one knew. And preferably, no one would ever find out and it will be forever a secret of the grave.

He smiled wryly and recalled how vainly he had tried to have everything that French simpleton had, especially the most important thing that mattered. Rather, someone - the object of affection, the root of such aggressive passion, Mrs. Suoh Haruhi. Now that he had her, the only catch was that she loved him not as himself but as the person he portrayed himself to be. It was a stake stabbed deeply into his heart that shall never be removed. Pain was such a little price to pay. How he loved her dearly.

It took too long to have her. It felt like an eternity and still did. She never saw past the trimmed blonde hair, the blue-colored eye contacts, and the carefully-studied French accent but he was forever trapped by a dead man's legacy. He could never become himself again, not once in his entire life. He was simply a thief of the night, the grave robber who gambled.

Jealousy

An occasion some months before the real Suoh Tamaki and Fujioka Haruhi's wedding, and the man's untimely death, there was a large celebration held in honor of the new head of the Ohtori family and of course, the richest and most powerful were invited. It had been the reason why Nekozawa Umehito came back to Japan from his stay in New York - it was the perfect business opportunity. He was America's business tycoon and Ohtori Kyouya simply was the head of the pack in Japan. A clear, goal-oriented reason to come back. It had all changed, of course, when he saw her again.

But she was not the one he remembered as the young girl he fell in love with. That time, she was already engaged with the idiot of a Suoh, who simply cannot refrain from dangling himself all over her. His eyes saw red and even if it was such a special memory, he could no longer remember the heavenly way she looked that night.

His passion reignited, he vowed to steal her away.

Drinking his wine, he sauntered his way through the crowd of men and women in gaudy fashion and certainly attracted a fair enough amount of attention. He was not the Nekozawa he used to be. He had already welcomed the light. And there she was smiling at him, making a dainty curtsy the way she was taught by the Hitachiin twins. "Good evening," He murmured in her ear, and placed his glass on a tray of a waiter passing by.

Haruhi smiled more, "To you, too. Nekozawa-san, it had been too long." She then glanced at her companion, who was busy pestering another waiter about the virtues of commoner food, particularly of crepes, and shook her head, "I'm sorry if you have to see that. The first time I treated him to crepes at the local park and he can't stop raving about them."

"Very well, I shall not comment. But I will not ignore the fact that since your date is unavailable you might be free to dance. Would you care to waltz with me? The orchestra is doing fine tonight."

And even if that wonderful smile of hers slipped into a fraction of a frown, he noticed but didn't heed. He always looked past it. Although hesitant, she offered her hand to him and taking it, he led her to the center of the floor, weaving through the other guests dancing.

"Now, we shall dance," He smiled.

"Okay,"

Haninozuka Mitsukuni and Morinozuka Takashi stopped by to greet them before hurrying off with every intention of congratulating Kyouya and locating the twins before chaos stirs up the party. "Let's meet at the buffet table, Haru-chan, Neko-Neko-san, and then we'll eat cake!!!!" Hunny said, waving cutely. Mori only had to nod and Nekozawa was entirely sure that the astute man knew of his intentions.

He inwardly smirked and thought that the epilogue was yet to begin. You have not seen anything yet.

Haruhi blinked up and stopped following the dance steps, her expression inquisitive. It took a few seconds before she asked, "Are you okay?"

He shook his head and laughed. Slowly, he was starting to find every bit of the girl he knew before in her and he was falling in love more. And hating Suoh more. It was a chain reaction, unavoidable and destructive. He could only take a few more before he snapped. "I'm sorry, Haruhi. I just realized how long I had been in New York and didn't expect such changes in our former schoolmates. Seeing Haninozuka was surprising. He's nearly as tall as Mori," He shook his head, "Now I feel nostalgic."

"We should go to the buffet table then. I'm sure you'd be more surprised."

"Is that so?"

"Of course," She replied pleasantly, "Hikaru decided to try cross-dressing and initiated a ruckus earlier. He was mobbed by his past designators during the Host club days."

They laughed more and he led her back to where they left Tamaki before heading to the table where they promised to meet with the oldest of the Host club members, her arm in his. He and Haruhi looked like the perfect couple, he decided and there definitely was a flash followed by a scurrying reporter after he took their photo. The lawyer hadn't noticed. The Russian felt silly channeling his inner Cheshire Cat.

Tamaki had already tired out the waiter he was talking to when they returned and eyed them with an unhappy look. "Mon Cherie," He started, "That waiter had no idea what he was missing out on, such blasphemy!!! I offered to call for takeout to be brought here but he scampered away like a rat from a cat!"

Haruhi sighed, "Did he have a scared look on his face?"

He made a loud noise and if only he could, he would've retreated to his corner of gloom, "Such cruelty, my dear. How could I have frightened him?"

"Whatever. I'm going to the buffet table with Nekozawa-san to see the others - would you like to come?"

"Of course, love."

Haruhi walked away from them, not bothering to glance back and see Tamaki pull Nekozawa to the side. With a dangerous glare, the French hissed a few words in his language before saying, "You stay away from her."

Return

On a business trip to Los Angeles, he had called her nearly everyday at hours when Tamaki was at work (he made sure to learn his rival's schedule and other important details) and talked to her animatedly on topics that were primarily her interests. She received each call quite happily for a few shared her ardor for crime and horror stories. It was one thing they have in common. No one understood them well. But he understood her and she would have to find that out for herself with him hand-feeding her clues.

His free time was spent roaming the shop-lined streets, buying presents by the armful and tasking his secretary to always send it to one address - Fujioka Haruhi's condominium unit. It was one way of satiating himself of being far from her, knowing the she knows there was someone thinking of her somewhere.

Little did he know that by the time he returned from his trip, half of the gifts were given away and the remaining half were left piled in the condominium, unopened.

Woo

Several love letters were returned unopened. It was expected. Words, no matter how intimate, never could move her and it was understandable. Suoh Tamaki did enchant her with his actions and dedication. He was a romantic man, after all. Nekozawa Umehito was not and it frustrated him.

He moved on to sending her flowers daily, addressed then to her office, and always made sure that the secretary reported to him how she reacted. For the first few days, he was gravely disappointed when she had handed them to other female lawyers in her firm. It was on the tenth day that he realized that he did not know what happened to the cards that accompanied each bouquet. The secretary reported that all were kept in the third drawer on the right of her desk. He was happy for the consolation.

Three days after that, Haruhi had started sending thank you notes that ended with a "Please do not send me anymore of those flowers. They may be beautiful but I am not one to appreciate them."

It was a disheartening turn of events. She also had begun the practice of bringing with her to work a large black garbage bag, in which she stuffed the flowers. The report that followed did not augment his chances because after Haruhi loaded the bag in her car, there was no way for the secretary to know what the fate of those ridiculously expensive bouquets. Nekozawa expected the worst.

But he saw his chance when he received a formal invitation from the twins Hitachiin Kaoru and Hikaru for tea to be held at Tamaki's townhouse. He would be able to do more than just send papers littered with romantic nonsense. He would be able to force her to pay attention to him as a potential lover. He would make her see that he was the better choice.

The twins were one of the first people there, dressed impeccably in aristocratic fashion - the younger in appropriate male attire and the older in his female clothes. Nekozawa could still feel surprise seeping through him. They had definitely changed and were more sophisticated in their movements. It was hard to think that the devils he knew in Ouran were the same ones in front of him. He talked a bit in Russian to Kaoru, who understood the language, and repeated his greetings in English for Hikaru.

Laughing in a forced feminine voice, Hikaru tossed suavely his now longer hair styled in curls and waves, and curtsied, "It had been too long, Nekozawa-senpai. How was America treating you back then?"

"Good, good. Thank you for the invitation."

"Our pleasure," They chorused.

Morinozuka Takashi came over and shook his hand. He gave him a brief greeting and turned to the twins. "Shouldn't you be showing your guest to where the others are?" He asked and held a disapproving look in their eyes.

"Oh, of course!!!" Kaoru exclaimed, in what seemed to be a sarcastic tone, and bowed to Nekozawa, "We're so sorry, senpai. We were happy to see you again that we forgot our manners."

Hikaru clapped his hands and a maid hurried, obviously someone who idolized them both. "Hikaru-sama, Kaoru-sama, what can I do for you?" She asked, eager to be of service, and it didn't go unnoticed how she grasped her apron tightly. Her smile widened when Kaoru placed a hand on her shoulder and asked her in a flirting tone to show their newly arrived friend to the sitting room.

It was a Host Club session all over again and the nostalgic feeling grew. So did anger. So did pain. His heart ached and turned his head away from the sight of Haruhi and Tamaki holding hands. His hands clenched into fists and he walked off to the other maids serving tea. The maid who accompanied him, confused, followed him, hoping that she had not done anything wrong to offend him. He didn't mind her and he surveyed the interior design of the room. And noticed something that pleased him. His frown curved upwards into a handsome smile and he asked for tea laden with milk.

Later, when Tamaki had gone to the gardens with Mori to rescue Hunny from being eaten alive by the guard dogs, Nekozawa pulled Haruhi aside and said in a pointed tone, "You didn't throw away the flowers."

Misunderstood

Haruhi knew that Nekozawa had gotten it over his head when she had spent one of her Tuesday afternoons with him, drinking coffee. The day that followed, her secretary had been bombarded with calls and notes from him, inviting her to go out. It was not amusing that such a simple thing as going out for coffee can be misconstrued as a date with all the romantic intentions. Apparently, Kyouya had caught wind like he always does, so did Mori, and inquired into the matter in his underhand style.

It was a cycle all over again, the first with the expensive gifts and then the flowers, slowly progressing, until she gives in or he gives up.

Forced

She was avoiding him for sure. It was the wrong move for her to do, he decided. As much as it wasn't common knowledge, at least the common sense of a person should dictate that the way to attract a person's attention more is to avoid him– avoidance does not solve anything, but his ladylove, despite being the intelligent being that she was, was probably dense about the matter. That or she was leading him on, something that irks him more. A few more steps would have to be taken and so he started waiting for her everyday, always diligent at the lobby of her law firm's building, with a charming smile on his face.

On the first day, she looked at him, unconcerned, and greeted him calmly, "It's a surprise to see you here, Nekozawa-san, what business do you have here?"

You.

"Ah, Haruhi. It's a pleasure seeing you – I had an appointment in the area earlier and thought that maybe I'd wait for you. Would you care to join me for tea?" He asked, holding out his hand to her, a coaxing look in his eyes.

She accepted and they walked out into the afternoon sun, basking in its warmth, heading for a café that was of his choosing.

The process he repeated for five more days, two successful and three not so much, and by the sixth day, having not lost his confidence, he went straight to her office and upon learning that she was still in a hearing, placed himself upon his chair and waited for her for two hours straight. She came in after that, tired as she had always looked but lovely nonetheless, and lounged on the sofa without noticing his presence inside the room.

"Good day, dear Haruhi," He spoke out, his accent thick and heavy and the appreciation on his grew when he saw the shocked look in her eyes.

"Nekozawa-san," Haruhi said in a demanding tone, "What are you doing here?!"

He stood up and strode to her, crouching and leaning towards her lap, never letting her stand up. His blonde hair covered part of his face and the smile he had on turned eerie and enigmatic as he whispered, "You've been heartless to me, Haruhi-chan… Why do you do this to me?"

"You, you know that I've no feelings for you yet -"

"Hush, hush, hush. Shhh. Don't say things that you don't mean, don't' say things that you're unsure of – it will be hard to take them back, Haruhi-chan."

"What are you saying? I love Tamaki."

"Hush, I say," He leaned on her more that his arms and his upper body was starting to be straddled by her legs, his fingers trailing up her thigh and then to her arms, and spoke in a much lower tone, "You have yet to learn where your heart lies, dear. It's too soon to say what."

Her patience wearing thin, Haruhi slapped away his hands and started to push him off her, her face with great hate, attempting to stand up.

His eyes narrowed and he pushed her back, reached for lips and kissed her deeply then sensuously in a crazed, abusive manner until he was certain that she could scarcely breathe. Seconds passed and the kiss ended, he rose on his feet and loomed over her, he whispered, "You should be more careful. Lock the door after I leave – a predator lurks."

Premeditated

He was losing her. It was the final draw. He no longer could hold it all in, he hated to lose. He could not lose her, he simply could not. Nekozawa could not deal with pain, it was something he never got the chance to feel – he was too guarded, too closed off from the rest. Only when you let your heart open would you feel all there was to feel. It was lesson that he was beginning to learn but he would not fully grasp. He stared at the mirror in front of him and saw someone whom he did not recognize anymore. He was now a stranger even to himself. Love makes a man a fool.

The scissors went cutting and slowly his shoulder-length hair grew shorter and shorter until it reached the length that he desired. It was dyed lighter to match the hair color of the one he hated the most and his eyes were no longer the color that they were. Now, they were just blue and bluer still. Just the way she loved those eyes they try to imitate. He opened his mouth and spoke; it was not of the Russian accent he possessed, it was lilting and romantic – the accent of a French man.

He smiled and it wasn't his smile, it was happier and stupid, the way he must smile from now on.

He had planned it all. After learning that the French simpleton would be on a business trip abroad, he knew that it was his only chance. Failure meant eternal lost. Eternal lost meant spending the rest of his life without her.

Nekozawa Umehito looked at the mirror one last time, tried to remember the face that he was before and said farewell. He stood up and checked his things again, confirming that he had his organizer, wallet and new credentials, placed the gun inside his carry-on.

His private jet was waiting.

Death

Students and classmates of a certain batch who graduated from the prestigious Ouran High School flocked to the funeral of one Nekozawa Umehito, a person a lot of them never knew, some a person they knew but never got too close to. Businessmen who were his allies came to mourn for the lost of good business venture, some for the lost of a good friend, and businessmen who were his foes came to pretend, their glee they could barely keep inside. Friends went to say their last goodbyes, their number few. His family who could not comprehend the fact that he was dead, they could not find it in themselves to bid his earthly remains farewell. And there were those who were close enough to be called friends but distant enough to be strangers, they were the members of the famed Host Club. Lastly, there was her, someone who came to see him off but not one to mourn for him, who he dearly loved.

He tried his best to mock sadness but it was his victory that weighed heavily on his mind. He had won the chess game, one that started years ago, had been placed in a hiatus and then continued, and his black pieces toppled over the inferior white pieces of the enemy. He retained a new identity; he was someone whom to others would be known as Suoh Tamaki and none of them would know the truth behind his real self.

When the funeral was all over, he turned to Fujioka Haruhi and, with gloom in his voice, told her that they were leaving, "I feel depressed, Mon Cherie. Shall we leave now?"

She nodded, looking hauntingly beautiful in her black mourning attire, and he started to walk.

He never heard her whisper, "Good bye, Tamaki…"

Author's Note: If you're confused with what went on, or if you decided that you seriously hate the story, it's like this: Nekozawa killed Tamaki to have Haruhi. By the end of the story, he's pretending to be the man that he killed. And yes, Haruhi knows.

I can't believe that I've made Neko-chan so evil!!! XD Anyway, I've been in this sort of dark mood since the onset of my final exams. Glad to have released all that pent-up energy.

Anyway, please review!

Your feedback is very important to me – it would tell me if I can keep up writing fics like this or if I should stay the hell away and stick to my happy-happy ones.

Thank you!