Notes: I think that 20YL Lambo is cute D. So THERE. Take this to be AU, because really that is what it is. I also felt that Older-Lambo had so much potential, as did the Haru x Lambo possibility. If you look at it though there is just NOT enough written material out there on them. So, I craved something a bit more serious, a bit more angst, and came up with the idea of a Romance in reverse. I am debating on whether or not I'll flush out the idea further, because looking at it now it is much longer than what I expected it to be like.

Moments in Memories are in italic

Disclaimer: I own the plot and nothing more.

Music List:

Wanted – Hunter Hayes

I Won't Give Up - Jason Mraz

I Love You, This Much: A Love Story Experienced In Time

He was 5. She was 15. "Neh! Neh! Haru-nee-chan! Lambo loves you THIS much!" The young toddler in a cow suit stretched his arms wide as he could, standing proudly before the smiling face of a cheerful young teen. The girl grinned at the small boy before curling him into her arms, rubbing her cheek against his affectionately as she cooed at him her praises. There, safe and warm in her hold, he didn't think he could have been happier.

Lambo Bovino was a man born out of sync, just one step behind and twenty years to far ahead. A Guardian in the body of a child, an Ace in a bazooka; he was Vongala's Joker Card in a deck stacked with all the winning hands. He was also a man changed drastically in the time he had been alive, hardships and strife unknown to his young familia forging him from the cry-baby toddler they were used to into the hardened capable fighter they so rarely got to see. He was so young when he became the 10th Lightening Guardian to the Vongola, so far behind those who were his comrades. It wouldn't be until years had passed that he would finally be able to show any kind of worth to live up to his title. At fifteen he could fight if pressed, but unlike his rambunctious child-counterpart who jumped feet first into battle (and right back out with tears) he would rather run than partake in conflict. He blames it on his upbringing, warm arms and a sunshine smile telling him softly that violence was a last resort. He also cherishes her for it, because she kept him innocent.

At 25 he is no longer so naïve. Those warm arms no longer hold him and that gentle smile no longer whispers sweet innocence into his ears. Without them, he has hardened. They all had. No longer did they have the luxury of childish purity on their side. That was taken from them, stolen with blood and blade. No longer do angels sit on their shoulders. He does what needs to be done with efficiency to be envied. He no longer cries, not on the whims that he used to, and not only because he has grown with age. Those tears brought him nothing, no comfort and no relief. They won't bring back his youth, and it won't bring her back either. They were wasted, so he bottled them inside and used them to fuel his fists.

He was 8. She was 18. She was walking him home from the local elementary school and they had stopped for ice cream. I-Pin had been with them, but had left quickly because of other obligations. As such, it was just him and her. They each had a cone in one hand, favorite flavors in place. He couldn't remember what he got, but he did remember that hers had strawberries in it. Her free hand held his, and he had boasted to every person they walked by that SHE was HIS girlfriend and that THEY were on a date.

She hadn't bothered to correct him, laughing instead and smiling at every person he told that too. He remembered feeling insanely proud of himself, all before one extravagant antic had his ice cream upon the floor and tears pouring out of his eyes. She had stopped and offered him some of her own cone, saying that as Boyfriend and Girlfriend they could share. The small boy had quieted his tears almost instantly, his eyes wide as he stared up at her in admiration. He spread his arms wide, wider than when he was five, and grinned bright for the young woman. "Lambo-chan loves Haru-nee-chan THIS much!" She grinned and pressed her lips to his forehead before handing him the cone. It was simple memories like these that warmed his heart and set butterflies to his stomach. He wouldn't understand it then, but it was the start of feelings that would tear him apart.

The first time he feels that familiar tug of time travel during his adult years he was 25 and is filled with unspeakable hope and dread. Hope, because he may see her there with her sunshine smile and warm arms; dread, for the very same reason. What meets his eyes when the pink smoke clears though is something he is all too familiar with, battle. The clouds churn above head and there are enemies before him, comrades behind. He turns his eyes to see the faces (so young, so damn young) of his familia, and feels a bittersweet tug at his heartstrings. This was before everything happened, the rise towards greatness. How it made him ache, because he knew what would come. They, so innocent and untainted, did not. She was not with them. There was no relief, only the slight upturn of his lips as he felt his heart beat echo in the hollow cavity of his chest. He greeted them; spoke softly of how good it was they were all together again. They were too wrapped up in the changes that would come to the Lightening Guardian to take into account the specifics of his words. It was better that way; he didn't want to have to explain what happened to them. They were alive, yes, but there were worse things than dying. Far worse things. He pushed down those emotions from his face and sunk himself into the familiarity of battle. The only regret he had was that his time was so short. He had more to offer than those mere minutes he spent next to his comrades; but fate had never been kind. Not to them, not to Vongola.

The times he is summoned after that were rare, his fifteen-year-old form doubling up the effects of the bazooka only when necessary. He is both jealous and angry at himself for this, the first because at fifteen he barely knew anything of the pain that he would later endure and the latter because of the stupidity that came with youth. It was that stupidity that caused him to waste so much time, to laugh and play games and idle away his days thinking that he had all the time in the world. If the rules of time travel would have allowed it he would have yelled at his younger form for all the time wasted, all the opportunities he let ship through his fingers. Instead, he would return from each summon a little more broken inside, a little more empty. It wasn't fair. He had the chance to change things, and it just wasn't fair.

He was 10. She was 20. She was sitting on the side of the pool with her legs dangling in and he floated nearby in an inner tube. It was a quiet and hot afternoon, one of the rare few they had. Most of the family was there, with the exception of the Sun Guardian and the Cloud Guardian being off on some recon mission. All of a sudden a hand snaked up from under the water and wrapped around her calf, dragging her down into the cold depths. She splashed and flailed as the Storm Guardian erupted from the water next to her, grin on his face and mischief in his eyes. She yelled at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He just laughed brightly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her up before dumping her back into the water.

The sight of Hayato's bare skin touching Haru's caused something dark and uncomfortable to coil in the young boy's stomach, and with the customary sound of outrage he pulled a water gun from god only knew where and promptly blasted it into the Octopus-Head's startled face. "Heh Heh! Lambo-kun is FIFTEEN times better than you, Baka-dera!" He beamed brightly at Haru, so proud to be her knight in shining armor, and near exploded with happiness as she graced him with a smile. He opened his arms wide, all to ready to profess yet again how much he adored and loved the young woman when another set of arms (thicker, stronger, far more grown-up than his own) wrapped around the girls waist and tugged her against a strong chest. She sputtered and turned, ready to rage at the Storm Guardian that held her captive. He just dragged her closer to his chest, trapping her arms between them. She flushed, he gloated, and then everything went very still. Her eyes widened as that angry flush turned into something rosy and soft, like dawn. His face mirrored the act. Time seemed to slow, and with it that ugly feeling thrashed restlessly in the small boys stomach.

A cough came from the side of the pool, all eyes snapping to the smiling face of the Rain Guardian who had just arrived. All at once Hayato and Haru burst apart as if a firework had been between them, him to go talk to Tsuna and her to stand close to Lambo. The young boy let his eyes trail from Hayato, who was animatedly waving his arms in some retelling of a story to Tsuna, towards Yamamoto, who's smile seemed paper thin and the grip on the hilt of his sword tight, to Haru, who even though was looking right at him seemed to be staring straight on through. Slowly, the young boy touched the woman's hand. "Haru-nee-chan, Lambo loves you." He stretches his arms wide, hoping she would see. "This much." He said it softly this time. She only hmm'd in response, her eyes darting shyly towards the Storm Guardian. That ugly feeling exploded.

This was the first time Lambo had felt such jealousy. He didn't know then that the same feeling was tearing Yamamoto apart.

At 28 his luck changed, whether for the better or worse he didn't know. He had been at base, lounging on a couch thinking of happier times when all of sudden he felt that familiar tug at the base of his stomach. Pink smoke erupted around him and with it he found himself in the past. The haze cleared and with it a sight that haunted his dreams came to focus. His gaze locked with hers, brown eyes so wide that he could see his reflection in them. His one open eye widened only a fraction, displaying his disbelief all before his arm snapped forward, hand wrapped around her wrist (so thin… so delicate) before pulling her forward into his arms. He tucked her into his chest, nuzzling her face into his jacket as he held her close with one hand woven into her soft hair. He took only a moment to relish the feel of her, the familiar scent she carried upon her wafting over him, before his gaze turned sharp and all his muscles tensed ready for battle.

He slowly drew his gaze around them, the scene that greeted him far from what he expected. Usually he was called for a fight, something dire that needed the strength his young form didn't possess. What he saw was anything but. Party streamers hung from the ceiling and around him sat his familia and their close friends, all wearing pointedly colorful hats with various noise makers in their hands. Above them was a banner proudly proclaiming his 8th Birthday. He had effectively crashed his own party. Around him chaos started breaking, the Guardians and the guests all sputtering as they moved to explain the situation to some of those around who had yet to witness the effects of the 10-Year-Bazooka. It would have been comedic for him if his attention didn't shift from searching for a battle that didn't exist to the soft body still held in his arms. "L-Lambo-Chan?"

Her voice was soft as he remembered, full of questions and insecurities. Slowly he eased the pressure he used to hold her protectively to his chest, allowing her to push her hands against his strong form just enough to let her raise her eyes towards his face. God, she was as beautiful as he remembered. The hand woven into her soft hair flexed gently, urging her closer as he wrapped his other arm around her waist. A blush flashed across her face, painting her cheeks brightly as he leaned his head forward to rest between her neck and shoulder. "Haru…" Her name came from his lips, tortured and broken. Her trademark 'Hahi!' came from her lips as she stiffened in his hold, her hands curling into fists in his jacket. They didn't pull him closer, but they didn't push him away either. That was enough for him. Her cry though seemed to drag the attention of some of the nearby guests, one in particular flushing red at the position he witnessed.

"Stupid Cow! What are you doing with the idiot woman!?"

There were few instances in his life that Lambo could remember truly hating Gokudera. He disliked him for many reasons, but for his worth the Lightening Guardian had always been closer to the Storm Guardian than the others. They developed an odd relationship, one full of mentorship and tension filled friendship. Later on in life as Lambo grew, it also included jealousy and rage. Jealousy, because the woman in his arms would eventually fall for the silver-topped powder keg. Rage, because that is what caused her so many tears and pain. Hate though came rare to Lambo, Haru had taught him to be against that emotion. But there were times Lambo truly hated Gokudera. Now was one of those times. The cold gaze the man gave his fellow guardian over the shoulder of the delicate woman in his arms stunned all who saw it, whatever insult that was about to thrown at him freezing in the Storm Guardian's throat. The words in Lambo's eyes were razor edged and dressed in steel, the message clear as his grip on Haru tightened just a bit more. Just try and make me move. For the first time in his life, Lambo was the adult and Hayato was the child where Haru was concerned. He'd give hell before he gave up that position.

The only movement he allowed was the shift of the young woman in his arms, pulling away from him to stand in the cradle of his embrace. He let her move but didn't bother to pull away from her, shifting instead to rest his forehead against her own. Her cheeks heated up once again as she fidgeted under his gaze. "L-Lambo-chan?" It had been so long since he had heard her say his name, and with that honorific tacked onto it no less. He felt his lips tug at the corners lightly in a disarming smile. Her flush darkened further. "You can let Haru go now, desu!" He contemplated her comment, agreeing that there indeed was no immediate danger. They were at his own Birthday Party, and from what he remembered they weren't attacked at this particular event. It was safe to let her go, but that didn't mean he wanted to. Instead he tugged her closer, ignoring the tensing of the muscles of the males around her as he fit her neatly into his chest and rested his chin atop her head. He savored it, the feel of her heartbeat fluttering against his form. She was alive, and it felt so good.

"Sorry, Haru-Nee-Chan." He whispered it gently, just softly enough so that she would hear it. The tone that accompanied it stifled any attempts at resistance she had. He was sure she could feel the tremble in his chest; a sure tell-all sign he was holding in his emotions. How could she not know? She had held him so many times. He felt her shift, her cheek sliding along his chest as she turned her eyes up towards him questioningly. That mothering look she always adopted around him flashed through her eyes, almost as if she still saw the 8-year-old she was used to instead of the full grown man holding her as a lover would. The pain in his smile and eyes would be so easy to hide from others, but never from her. "I miss you too much to let go." Her brow furrowed with worry, something he instantly smoothed with his lips pressed to her forehead. It was an act she had done so many times to him, and while in reverse the action was innocent with him as the giver it seemed to inspire a whole other set of emotions. He heard the indignant cries of the Storm Guardian and the surprised gasp of the woman in his arms all before that familiar tug dragged him back to the future; his arms empty but still warm with her presence. He stared at his empty embrace, palms open as if pleading. Slowly, he dropped them by his side and dropped back down onto the couch he occupied before, draping one arm over his eyes. God, it hurt.

"You shouldn't have done that." The voice was clip and straight as it cut through the gloom the man had hanging around him, precise and sharp as the Hitman who said it. Lambo tilted his gaze to look at Reborn, the other man standing there with his hands shoved down into the pockets of his suit and his fedora low over his gaze.

"I don't care." Lambo's voice was softer than that of his long-time rivals, but just as harsh and laced with steel. "I miss her too much."

The muscles in Reborn's jaw clenched, tight with emotion both knew he should have buried long before. "… You are not the only one who does." And with that, the Hitman left the bull to mull over in his own thoughts. Quietly, Lambo watched him leave, his own thoughts running through his head.

Yeah…. But I loved her. More than any of them ever did.

He was 12 and hated his formal suit. She was 22 and stole his breath away with the dress she wore. The room was decorated with various flowers and ribbon, the windows open and the sun glowing bright through the glass. The pews of the church were filled with friends and family of the Vongola, all smiles and well wishes upon their lips and held in their hands. The aisle was covered in white petals, broken under her feet as she walked towards them like an Angel born of light.

To his right stood another Guardian, stiff as a board with his hands clenched tight around a box that held a very important ring. Yamamoto's smile was clean and pure, but from his position at his side Lambo could feel the Rain Guardian shake. When Haru came close enough his eyes opened just the tiniest bit, sadness and longing flashing in their dark depths. Lambo wanted to scream, how could Haru not see it? How could she not know? For a moment it looked as if the Rain Guardian was going to move, the muscles in his arm tensing as she swept by him. Words were upon his lips, ready to be spoken. Then she slipped her arm through that of the blushing Storm Guardian's and Yamamoto's mask fell back into place. Lambo wanted to scream.

It was later at the reception when the happy newlyweds were taking their first dance that Lambo had a chance to confront the older man. They were in a secluded corner, hidden sufficiently by the fact that so many eyes were upon the loved pair. Lambo couldn't stand to look at them though; it hurt him in ways his young heart couldn't understand. Instead, he took that anger out on the Rain Guardian, his mask still comfortably in place. "Why didn't you tell her!" His voice came out in harsh whisper, scraping along his throat on their way out. Before him, Yamamoto's eyes never left Haru's form, cradled in the arms of his best friend.

"… If I did, it would have hurt her more." The words shocked the young adolescent, and with it the first feelings of shame crawled into his young heart. Hayato wasn't a bad man; Lambo himself was quite close to him. It wasn't as if he didn't think the Storm Guardian couldn't make her happy… it was just that… it was just… At that time, Lambo had no words to explain what it was. But he knew whatever it was that Yamamoto must have felt the ten times more. So, taking the Rain Guardian's lead he plastered on a carefree smile and put on a show of happiness for the Bride, for Haru.

It was finally his turn to dance with her, and as he wrapped his arm around her waist and took her hand in his he started to notice certain things. She wasn't very tall to start with, but already he was starting to catch up. Her hand felt small in his, and her waist felt fragile. His eyes trailed from the pendent that sat against her throat, up to her glossed lips, and finally to meet her eyes. She was smiling and beautiful and so very happy; glowing and bright as the sun he so often compared her too. Something heavy settled in his heart, making it pound painfully in his chest and sadden the shade of his eyes. "I love you, Haru-nee-chan." He whispered it into the space between them, his arms curling around her just a tad bit tighter as he forced that easy smile to his lips. "… This much."

She smiled back at him brightly and kissed his cheek, all before pulling out of his arms and returning to those of her husband. He had never felt so empty in his life.

The next time he was summoned it was in the presence of the Rain Guardian. They were in his family restaurant, a favorite place for the young Lambo to spend his after-school afternoons. If Yamamoto was surprised by Adult Lambo's appearance, it was easily hidden behind that customary smile. Young Lambo may have been fooled by it, like most of the world, but Adult Lambo had seen that smile too many times to not know how false it really could be. This man with a blade was deadly, more so than people would think him to be. His loyalty was fierce, and with it his dedication to the familia drew him across many lines he thought he would never go over. It also made him draw lines he never would.

They didn't talk as he slid onto a stool at the bar, the Rain Guardian moving to prop up next to him. No one else was there, and for a moment Lambo wondered if Takeshi had somehow tricked his younger selves into summoning him here. He wouldn't put it past the swordsman, Lambo could remember all too well how manipulative the other man could be. He didn't want to press it though, and just waited for the young Rain Guardian to speak. Takeshi didn't disappoint. "… Where you are, has something happened?" Takeshi didn't have to finish the sentence for Lambo to know what he meant. Though it was left incomplete, he knew that the other man meant it in regards to one cheerful woman common in their lives. Lambo didn't answer, but the silence told Takeshi all he needed to know. The smile fell off that cheerful face, eyes glinting with steel. "… Whose fault was it?" Once again, the question was left open-ended. Lambo understood it though, how could he not. Slowly, he shifted his one eyed gaze to the man to his side

"… You. " Any other answer, that was what the baseball-minded young man expected. Any other answer but himself. His eyes widened as denial flashed across his face, the words ready on his lips.

I wouldn't.

I couldn't.

Not to her…

"… You did nothing. They didn't either. It is just as bad." That comment made Takeshi's mouth shut snap, his lips pressing together into a grim line. Guilt flooded the Rain Guardian, and he didn't even know what he did. Lambo sighed though, knowing how in the future the Swordman would never recover from the event either, how the guilt would eat at him till that smile was as hollow as Lambo felt. "… I am just as bad." He shared in the guilt, he really did. But what could he have done? They were 10 years older than him or 10 years younger. It didn't fit, he didn't fit. "I was too young to stop it." His voice was low, barely a whisper.

"And I?" The Rain Guardian looked at him with clear eyes, wondering where he had gone wrong. Lambo tilted his gaze over once more, sizing up the young man who would turn into one of the most ruthless assassin of the Vongola. Right now he looked fragile, cracked at the edges and so damn unsure of himself.

"… You… Just didn't stop it. You were a coward." Takeshi nodded, as if considering those words. "If I was old enough, I would have. She would have been worth it." The last thing Lambo saw before he was pulled back to the future was the pain across the young man's face. If Lambo meant the wedding or her death, he wasn't sure. Maybe neither, maybe both. Either way, his mind echoed one thought at the interaction with the young rain Guardian. Serves you right.

He was 16. She was 26. They were at war. It was hard to be Vongola, not only because of the battles but because of the strain it put on those you were close to. There had been three assassination attempts on Tsuna's life this past month, and with it everyone was a wreck. Kyoko, now wife to Tsuna for three years, had already been evacuated to a safe location. Haru would be next. The only question left was who would be there to Guard her. As it stood it couldn't be Hayato, as the second in command he was expected to stay at Tsuna's side. Tonight was no different.

They were all sitting around the main office, pouring over information gathered and strategizing their next move, when the door burst open. Instantly, weapons of all kind were aimed at the intruder. Said intruder merely arched her eyebrow and rested her hand upon her hip. "Ah, so Haru comes to bring all the hardworking big bad Vongola some food and they decide to repay her by maiming her?! Well to bad! Haru is not going to be left alone because the Vongola starved themselves to death!" Lambo feels his lips quirk at her as she strides into the room, weapons falling down as she dumps the largest bento he had ever seen onto the main table. Rice balls and sweet cakes cover plans to murder and explode, and with it she orders everyone in the room to eat. It was almost funny the way she commanded the space as if she owned it, tossing out the gloom and death with all her warmth and light.

Hayato moves as if to put her in her place, to remind her that she doesn't belong here and needs to go home where it is safe. She merely shoves a rice ball in his mouth. "Haru is staying right here, so deal with it." And as she plops down next to Lambo, leaving the Storm Guardian quietly fuming and his comrades smirking at his expense, the Lightening Guardian can only think of how much they needed her in their lives. She suddenly turns and offers him another rice ball, eyes expectant and pout in place. Not to anger her further, he merely takes the offered treat and trades it with a kiss upon her cheek.

"I love you, Haru-nee-chan." He stretches his arms, one behind her shoulder and the other out to the side. "This much!" The childish response earns him a pretty smile, and he turns a smug grin at Hayato as he leaves his arm draped along Haru's shoulders. Small victories, to be sure. But he would take what he could get.

The next time he was summoned they were in Italy. They had been relocated and were exploring the history of their family. They were at a museum at the moment, looking at relics of old and scriptures from far away. The moment he arrived out of the pink smoke he found himself blocked from the object of his affections by a wall of gray and black irritation. Gokudera stood firmly between him and Haru, his gaze pointedly staring straight ahead but the muscles in his shoulders tense. Lambo didn't blame him for the reaction, right now Hayato was just starting to become a man. He didn't know what to do with the emotions he felt towards the woman he loved. Lambo had been one for years, he knew exactly what he missed out on.

He didn't move to push past the brooding Storm Guardian though, instead opting to greet her with a lazy smile and a tilt of his head from the other side of the Great Storm Divide. She flushed prettily under his attention, no doubt a reaction to their last encounter, all before cheerfully greeting him in return. Hayato gawked at her, telling her to pay attention to the art so she wouldn't be such a country bumpkin in his home land. She retorted by lighting up like a matchstick, retorts fresh on her lips. To the side, Lambo just smiled fondly. They started moving through the exhibit once more. He fell behind the others, content for the moment to watch her from a distance. His arms ached for her, to hold her and feel her, but he merely shoved his hands down his pockets and let his eyes love her from afar. He wasn't surprised when the Rain Guardian fell in line beside him.

"… You said I just let it happen. That I am a coward. Why?" His voice was hushed, the walls of the museum wide and open as if waiting to echo their conversation. They didn't have a choice where they spoke though. Time wasn't ever on his side.

"You love her." Takeshi stared at him for a moment, wide eyed before a blush flashed like wildfire across his face. He stuttered as he attempted to deny it, but Lambo just looked at him pointedly. "I am from the future, I know." That shut up the other man effectively, something that seemed to be happening with irritating frequency. Lambo turned his attention back towards Haru and Hayato, neither aware of the fact that as they walked they inched just a little bit closer. His hand fisted in his jacket pocket. Beside him, Takeshi's shoulders sagged just a bit.

"… Hayato does to." It was a statement that both men know to be true, why the Baseball Fanatic had to voice it out loud was beyond Lambo. He knew that already. God, did he know. "He's my best friend."

Lambo felt his jaw tense as he tossed a concealed glare at the other man. "That is why you are a coward. You loved her for so long, through everything. Every time she cried, you were there. Every time they had an argument, you were there. Every time he didn't come back home at night, staying by Tsuna instead of her… you were there. A smile in place, a hand on her shoulder… but you didn't do a damn thing. When they got married, you stood as his best man and watched. It could have been you… she could have loved you."

The image of her dressed in white, glowing like dawn, pushed through his mind. She was beautiful, so beautiful. Beside him Takeshi shook with suppressed emotion. Heartache and anger all woven into one, he whispered harshly back at Lambo. "And what? Should I have taken her from him? Would it have been better if I had?!"

"Yes!" The answer was short and blunt, stopping the Rain Guardian in his stride. "… Do you know why she died?" Died… dead… gone… The meaning behind the word was like stones in his throat and daggers in Takeshi, his eyes widening at the admission. Lambo didn't care, he was breaking so many damn rules but he didn't care. His voice was full of poison as he chugged on. "… He didn't come home… and for the first time you didn't go to her. You said you couldn't trust yourself at her side; that watching that look on her face was going to turn you to sin. Sin would have been better, Takeshi! It would have been better!" His teeth clenched, his eyes were on fire, his gut curled into painful formations. "She died because she was alone… She was alone, and they knew she was alone, so they broke into her house and they sliced her open and left her alone to bleed to death. And you let her be alone." Yamamoto stared straight ahead, his eyes on Haru. Laughing, bright, cheerful, and alive.

His lips thinned into a line. "… How do you know it was because of me?"

The look Lambo gave him was so tragic, so insanely pained, it made his blood freeze in his veins. "Because, I held her as she died."

Pink smoke engulfed him, and when it cleared he found himself face to face with a much older Rain Guardian. Though he was in his late 30's Takeshi hadn't lost the steel that made him so fearsome, the pain and loss of his younger years only further refining the blade that he became. That fake smile was in place, behind it harsh intent boiled below the surface. Beneath his calm exterior, Lambo was electric. "… Is Haru alive?" Takeshi stiffened, his body language telling the Bull all he needed to know. The bones in his hand cracked with the tension in his clenched fist. This is why he called Takeshi a coward.

Fuck.

He is 17. She is 27. They are in her homey little cottage, and she is taking her anger out on the kitchen. It had been four days since Hayato has come home, four days since he had stopped by and slept next to her. She would have understood if he was out of the country, but he isn't. He is at Tsuna's, just on the other side of town. Four days, and she was starting to fall apart.

He sits at her kitchen table as she slams a baking sheet out onto the table top, scooping out little balls of cookie dough at a furious speed. From her lips tumble every insult she can think of, mixing Japanese, English, and Italian so fluently together that even the Varia would be proud of her creativity. She is a flame, burning bright and dancing, but so close to be putting out by the most wayward of winds. It is painful to watch. He stands then, mindful of her action as he moves closer. With the smoothness of a man trapped in the body of boy, he grabs her wrist and tugs her gently to face him.

She is surprised, eyes wide at the sudden contact. He smiles, that easy disarming turn of lips that she always found charming. "Haru-nee-chan… the cookies didn't do anything wrong." She blinks, her lips crack at the side as if she is about to smile, and the next moment has her in his arms and her face in his chest as she cries out her loneliness and anger and fears of abandonment. He holds her, wonders at when he became taller than her, and slowly sweeps his hand from her head down her back. He repeats the motion, soothing her gently.

Once she has calmed down and has cried herself to sleep, he tucks her into her bed and lays a lingering kiss upon her forehead. He moves then to the Vongola base, marches straight up to Hayato and pulls the glasses off his face before shoving his jacket into his arms and pushing him towards the door. "Your wife is lonely. Go, before I steal her away from you." Though it is said with a smile and a wink, Lambo is deadly serious. He will be 18 before long, and if Hayato doesn't change his ways he is going to sure as hell try.

The next day he goes to visit Haru. He pauses by their window and peers into the kitchen. She is standing there, her arms wrapped around Hayato's back and her face in his chest. She is crying again, but this time in the arms of the man she loves. He holds her back, whispering into her ear apologies she has heard before and promises he can't keep. But they placate her, and she tilts her head back for a kiss. Hayato leans his head down, and Lambo shuts his eyes to block out the scene. He turns on his heel and leaves the couple alone. 'I love you, Haru.' He thinks bitterly, as he swallows down his jealousy. 'This much.'

He was drunk when he was summoned next, and he blamed all his actions on that fact. He probably shouldn't have been drinking, but damn he was so screwed up inside and he couldn't think straight without hurting. Reborn had laid him flat on his ass with a fist to his face, telling him to keep his shit together when he got summon back to the past. Yamamoto had taken to his ruthless trade with a vengeance, hardly home long enough to change his blood stained shirt before heading out again for another job. The Storm Guardian couldn't be found anywhere. His family was falling apart, and how could they not? They had brought civilians into their type of lifestyle, girls like Haru were not made for their kinds of lives. He blamed Reborn for not letting him do more in the past, he blamed Takeshi because even with all the hints he didn't do a damn thing, he blamed Hayato because it was his fault she was left alone at all, but most of all he blamed himself. He was either too young or too old, and when he was the right age he had no fucking clue. He was too powerless when he was young, his flirtations and doting affections passed off for the broad shoulders of a man and the taste of smoke. He was too late when he had grown up, her blood writing a calling card upon the walls of her pretty little cottage home. So he found a bottle with something that burned and made love to it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The pull of time travel made him feel queasy, and when the smoke cleared it was night time. She was there in front of him, bathed in moon light in her night gown. She was so young and innocent, dressed in white ruffles that showed off her legs and shoulders and the hollow at her throat; it was all so much and all so sudden that he couldn't hold back the whine deep in his throat. Fate hated him, it fucking wanted to chew him up and spit him out only to run him over with a freight train. He couldn't handle it, the bottle he was using as a last resort long gone from his hands and he felt so damn empty. He sat there before her upon his knees, his head cradled in his hands as he whimpered softly in his own self-pity. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but the guilt he had been trying to drown pushed lead into his wrists. Instead he sat there bent over, shaking and just so damn wrecked.

He didn't have to move though, because she was Haru and Haru always knew what he needed. Even if he himself didn't. Hands, soft and sure and warm, threaded through his dark hair and along his scalp. "… Lambo's hair is so different when he grows up." It is an observation, nothing more and nothing less. "… Haru likes it." He shivers as those fingers flow along his scalp and around the back of his ears, fingers trailing along his jaw line before resting at his chin. Slowly, so slowly, she presses just a tad bit of pressure and tilts his head up. His one open eye meets her wide brown ones, and seeing his reflection in them again he feels pathetic and miniscule in her pure light. He shifts to move away, to get away from how bright she is, only to have her pull him back. Her fingers trail along his cheek, across the bridge of his nose, and his eyelid flutters at the sensation. She is looking at him with a childlike appreciation and wonder, an appraising look to her gaze. She suddenly smiles at him and he is blinded by it. "… Lambo has grown so handsome!"

His heart clenches at the words, her gentle actions giving comfort without judging him for his breakdown. She didn't care he was near breaking apart in her hands, she held him with the same tenderness she always had. He was going to be damned, he knew it, but no one else was here but them. Reborn, Takeshi, Hayato… none of them were here to judge him in his weakness. Screw them. It was him and her and right now it was so perfect… so damn perfect. He reached his hand up and wrapped it around one of her wrists close to his face, her heartbeat fluttering against his fingertips. "I love you." He whispers it fervently, almost as if it were sacred. Her eyes widen at the admission, unsure for only a moment before her smile breaks out across her face.

"Haru loves Lambo too!"

No. She didn't understand. That was the same smile she gave him all through his childhood, all through his teenage years. Like a little brother, like a friend, like a comrade, like family. He was tired of that, she never understood, passing his affections off as crushes and passing emotions. She needed to understand, he needed her to understand. "No…" His other hand came up to cup her cheek. Her eyes widened as he shifted closer to her. Her eyes widened further, his image filling them as he leaned closer to her.

Look at me. Only me. Please…

"… I love you." He whispers those words against her lips, each filled with so much agony and adoration that it steals her breath away. That hand around her wrist moves along her arm, goosebumps tickling the flesh as he slides it to her shoulder, around her back, and then down to her waist. He guides her closer and there is no longer any room to misinterpret his words. A flush rises along her neck and settles in her cheeks, rosy and beautiful and so very virgin. He basks in it, because he knows she sees him as a man. Not as that toddler she used to care for, not a little brother and definitely not only a friend. She sees him, feels the heat roll off his body and the need for her deep in his gaze. Her body reacts as a woman's should, her breath growing shallow and her fingers tremble against his face.

"H-Hahi?" The question is clear, though he isn't sure if she is asking something of him or of herself. If it is of him he has the answer ready, he has it ready for years. He has loved her for his whole life. He doesn't move, so afraid to shatter the spell between them carefully woven by alcohol and moon light, and waits for her to come to her conclusion. She stares at him, so many emotions running through those deep endless eyes, and she must have thought for a brief moment of him too because her tongue came out and wet her lips. It was all the sign he needed, all he could bare to wait for. He leaned forward and closed the gap between them, another whimper passing through his throat at the taste of her. Her hands twitched against his throat before clutching at the collar of his jacket, the fabric wrinkling in her hands. His hand dragged down from her waist and along her hip, sliding up under her thigh and hooking under her knee as he pressed forward. She landed upon her back with a soft gasp as he hooked her leg securely to his hip, holding his weight above her with his other hand. She laid beneath him, glassy-eyed and lips swollen. He was high on liquor and her, she looked so wonderful and felt so good and tasted like home. Her hands shook against his chest, her thigh trembled in his hold, his name was panted past those beautiful lips and he broke all over again. He leaned down along the length of her, his mouth covering hers as he ground himself along her warmth, swallowing her squeak of surprise with a long moan of his own.

Then she disappeared in a puff of pink smoke, and he stared wide eyed down at where she had been. Her taste was fresh on his mouth, her wet heat lingering along the front of his pants, her hands still ghosting over his chest; but he was in the future and she was in the past and fuck fuck FUCK! His fists slammed into the ground as he screamed out his frustration, lightening sparking across the floor following the jagged cracks that split through the concrete. He didn't care that they wouldn't bring her back, that they wouldn't put her back in his arms and bring back her smile, exhausted he bent over onto his arms and cried. Why couldn't he love her? Why couldn't it be him?

He is 18. She is 28. And she is dying in his arms. Never has Lambo ever felt this helpless, and thinking back on it now he only feels this way when it concerns her. He had arrived back in Italy only hours before, reporting to Tsuna his recent findings into this war that had been dragging on for two years. Names, numbers, locations; he lists them off mechanically as fatigue plagues his brain. It may have been midday in Italy, but jet lag didn't care where the sun was in the sky

He isn't surprised to see Hayato there, after all the Storm Guardian made it clear what his priorities were. He is, however, surprised on his way out to see the Rain Guardian. It was no secret that Yamamoto had taken it upon himself to guard Gokudera's house when the Storm Guardian had to stay late or overnight. No one thought otherwise of it, always sure of Yamamoto's upstanding character and loyalty. To see him here though instead of with Haru caused the young Lightening Guardian discomfort. And so, despite his body screaming for him to go to sleep he decided to pay a visit to his favorite lady.

He stopped only twice on his way over to Haru's cute little cottage, first at a cake shop to pick up something sweet for them to share and second to buy a bouquet of flowers to dress up her bedside table. He mused for a bit that he looked much like a boy going to visit the girl he loved, and though that was the truth plain and simple he doubted most boys were in love with women already married. The idea of it caused a smile to tug at his lips. He bounced up the stairs with more pep than he felt and knocked on the door. "Haru-nee-chan~ Lambo is here for a date da-" The door creaked open, and his words died on his lips. Her home is wrecked and so very quiet, he swears he can hear his heartbeat in his ears.

The flowers drop from his hands and the cake falls to the floor as he runs into the small home, 'please' and 'God no' echoing around his head as he races towards the bedroom. The door snaps open from the force of him barreling through, and with it he feels himself shattering. She lay on the bed, her hands holding her stomach as warm crimson blood flowed between her fingers. She was pale, her eyes wide and frightened as they landed on him. She instantly starts to move, wincing at the pain. "L-Lambo! You have to leave! They were just here, they were ju-!" He doesn't let her finish.

In three strides he is at her side, his arms gathering her to his chest as he curls his body over hers. Lightening crackles around them in angry bolts as he whispers softly into her ear. "… Let them come back… I'll tear them apart." The sureness in his voice steadies her, grounds her, and with it tears start to pool in those large brown eyes. She had been so very brave, and so very afraid. He isn't sure how he does it without leaving her, but he somehow calls the Vongola and screams at them to bring help, his voice far more man than child, all before he starts tearing the bedsheets off the bed and shredding them into bandages. He climbs onto the mattress, pulls her into his arms, and tenderly wraps her in hopes of keeping her together.

She is cold, but she is smiling at him. The blood is slowing, but he knows that it wasn't a good sign. His eyes stray from her blood soaked middle to her eyes, the tears already starting to blur his vision. Slowly, her hands reach out towards him. Her fingers touch his cheeks, blood streaking against the soft skin. He doesn't care. He tilts his head forward, resting his forehead against hers as he clings to her. "Lambo?" Her voice is soft, fluttering, whispers and feathers across his cheeks. He forces his eyes to focus on her, because she needs him. Her smile widens just a tiny bit. "… How much do you love me?" A wounded sound tears from his throat, his hands shaking against her shoulders as he curls her into him. Before this question was so easy for him to answer, so damn easy, but now as she was dying here in his embrace he couldn't stand to say it. Not because he didn't love her, god knew he loved her more with every breath he took, but because of what she was asking of him. She wanted to say goodbye, to someone, to anyone… and lucky for him he just happened to be there. "L-Lambo?" Her voice struggled, her strength fading, and with it Lambo felt whatever reservations he had snapped.

"I love you. So much. So very, very much." He forces his tears down as he returns his forehead to hers, willing with his gaze alone to hold her soul to her body. "As much as the stars love to shine, and the sun loves to glow. As much as the ocean rushes wave after wave upon the sand, just so it can touch the Earth for but a moment." She is starting to relax in his arms, her body growing heavy and her eyelids fluttering. He fights back the pleas he feels on his tongue, and instead braves the most sincere smile he can muster. "In this life, and into the next… This is how much I love you."

He thinks he has lost her when her eyelids start to close, only for them to open lazily once more and her eyes focus on his face. She smiles then, and he feels as if he is floating. "… I love you too." And with that, the light fades out and he is in darkness.

They come rushing in not five minutes later, but it doesn't matter. He looks up at them, covered in her blood and his eyes sharp with anger and hatred and sadness swirled into one. Slowly, he lifts her as he stands. One foot before the other, he carries her cold dead body towards them as proof of their negligence, as the validation of their carelessness. He stands before the Storm Guardian, the man's eyes wide with disbelief and pain, and shoves her cruelly into his arms before pushing past. He pulls his arm back and slugs his fist straight into the Rain Guardian's face, chest heaving as he speaks two words that would haunt the Vongola for years to come. "… Too late."

The last time he is summoned he is 30 and so very tired. It had been 2 years since he had tasted her and she is still fresh in his mind. She is 20 and still just as beautiful as he remembers. She remembers it too, because the moment their eyes meet she flushes prettily, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear and smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her dress. Hayato is at her side, still not quite a man but growing to become one. Takeshi is on the other, steel in his eyes as he stands as her shadow. They eye him, unsure how to treat him. Halfway between comrade and enemy, he knows the truth about their futures and they know the truth about his affections. He wants to move to get closer, but this is the Golden Age of the Vongola, when they shine brightest. He doesn't belong there. He is there for it's decent into darkness, into crime and murder and blood. He doesn't belong in that light.

It doesn't matter, because Haru moves away from her flanking guards to approach him, bringing that light with her. He stands, stiff and tense, before she stops before him and smiles so brilliantly he is sure he will burst into flame. He watches her as her hands move to his chest and his arms move to hold her there automatically, as if they were always like this, as if they would always be like this. But he knows better, and the shake in her lower lip tells him she knows that as well. She looks at him with tears behind her smile and whispers his name. It is a goodbye and an apology and a confession of love all rolled into one and it is so devastating that he has trouble standing. He knew he wouldn't win, fates and time and past and future were against him, but he hoped. He always hoped. Five minutes were never enough. But she is so guilt ridden by it all that she is shaking and falling apart in front of him and he can't stand it. He tightens his arms around her slightly and forces his own pain down somewhere deep and dark, locking it away for his next fight. He pulls a smile onto his face, the one he knew she loved, and rests his forehead against hers. "… Next time… I'll make sure to be born on time. So choose me, okay?" Her eyes widen at the promise in his words, and she smiles sweetly at him in that sad way that makes him ache before reaching up to kiss him.

It is bittersweet and lingering and when the smoke flashes him back to the future he is left empty again. His memories tell him that Haru still married Hayato, that Takeshi had left her alone, that he still found her after the attack, and that now she was still dead. He wants to bury himself and die as well. It isn't Reborn that greets him, fist at the ready. It isn't the Rain Guardian either, eyes full of guilt and shame. It is Hayato, smoke between his lips and a haunted expression of the tired and aged on his face. They look at each other, size each other up, but by now they are both too tired to try and duke it out. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after… just not now. So they shift to the couch and open a bottle and start to burn away the memories with amber liquid. It is somewhere into the second bottle when one of them finally talks, and it is the Storm Guardian. "You should have just punched me instead, you know?" And the damn broke, his tears slid silently down his face and his shoulders shook. Beside him, Hayato simply poured him another glass. "Stop crying, Stupid Cow."

God… how they missed her.

He is 5. She is 15. "Neh! Neh! Haru-nee-chan!" They sat side by side on the porch watching the stars. The small boy, dressed in his cow suit, curled up against her side as he looked up imploringly at her with his cheeks puffed out in a pout. "How much does Haru-nee-chan love Lambo?"

Her eyes sparkled as she held out her arms as wide as they go. "Haru loves Lambo THIS much!" That night, everything was perfect.

- End

… OMG. Why did this become so LONG?! DX

It isn't fully edited, so I may go in and change things a little bit. But please review and tell me what you think? Thanks~

-Limey