Edit* Fixed a few minor details, and added the disclaimer.

I don't own the GetBackers, but I enjoy writing about them and that one particularly mysterious sometimes-ally of theirs.

Inspired a bit by a scene in Amethyst Hunter's work Blood Oaths (which, by the way, is one of the most inspiring characterizations of Akabane I have ever read, and I highly, highly recommend reading it), I started running with this idea because of the image it put in my head. Akabane is a character I really want to explore more of because of the incredible complexity the manga lends to him (and because there is a mystery that remains about him despite the few times I've tried to decipher it). Characters like that lend really well to fanfiction, I think, because it gives writers room to play.

Very minor spoiler alert for our resident café owner, because I hint at his awesomeness.

Paul raised an eyebrow.

It was a rare occurrence for the Honky Tonk to host the guest who walked through the door. The tall and lanky figure in black painted a sharp, dark shadow in the otherwise bright establishment. Not that the café was particularly bright in atmosphere – it was relatively difficult for any place in Shinjuku to truly carry that air – but it was lit well. Their guest's wide-brimmed hat and long coat seemed to eat a hole in the doorway as the cheery jingle of the bell signaled his entrance.

"Welcome!" Natsumi greeted with a chipper smile, ever the happy server to any customer. Even Dr. Jackal's imposing figure could not deter her happiness, though it helped that she was familiar with him.

He smiled from under his hat. "Hello, Natsumi-chan. How are you?"

"I'm doing just fine, Akabane-san," she replied, setting aside the mug she had been absently polishing. "Can I get you anything?"

He approached the bar, taking a seat at the counter somewhat less gracefully than he would have any other visit. Paul frowned as the man removed his hat out of propriety, a tremble in his gloved hand barely visible, but not beyond the perceptive owner's senses. Akabane Kuroudo was off today. Very off, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Something strong," he requested with a tone that betrayed nothing.

"A strong brew would be…" she pondered aloud, placing a finger to the corner of her lip as she reviewed the coffees they served.

"Alcohol, my dear," he corrected her.

She blinked in surprise.

"I'll take care of it, Natsumi-chan," Paul told her, setting aside his newspaper in favor of turning toward his stores. "Whiskey, Gin, Shochu," he rattled off to him, "Everclear if you're really trying to kill the pain."

He had his back to him, but Paul didn't need to see him to know he had hit the nail on the head. He could smell it now, too.

"…Is it so obvious?"

"I'm more perceptive than most," Paul clarified. He pulled the whiskey down and a short glass with it when the transporter named it as his choice. "Rocks?"

"Yes."

Natsumi seemed to understand suddenly that something was going on, and cast Akabane a look of concern. She was not sure if she should offer help, or if doing so would be detrimental to the pride of the man before her, considering he had yet to ask for it himself.

Paul saved her the trouble.

"Grab the bandages, would you?" he instructed her. Akabane looked up, seemingly surprised by the gesture, and Paul gave him a raise of an eyebrow. "Look, I'm not having you bleed all over my floor. You're making a mess already as it is."

It took the man in black a moment longer to register that, and then he laughed somewhat bitterly.

"I suppose that would be quite the inconvenience," he mused.

Natsumi disappeared into the back while Paul slid the glass across the counter. Akabane took it welcomingly, tossing back its contents and enjoying the distraction the burn in his throat served. Alcohol was not one of his preferred pastimes, but it certainly served its purpose when necessary. A bit longer and he would be able to relish in the numbing effect it would have on the rest of his body, and perhaps a bit of sleep if he was lucky.

Paul refilled the glass without question, and Akabane once again took it to his lips.

"So what made you come here?" the bespectacled man questioned him when he took a break from the liquid.

"It was close," he explained. "Closer than my hotel room, safer than an alleyway, and more welcoming than a hospital."

"Considering your reputation, you'd hardly get through the door of one," Paul chided.

"Hospitals are reminders of things I'd rather like to remain forgotten," he admitted uncharacteristically. He emptied the glass again. "…I do appreciate the assistance, much as I'd rather not be in the position to need it. A murderer hosts more willing to finish the job than close open wounds."

He could count on one hand the people who valued his life enough to consider offering him help. The closest person he could call a friend was Maguruma, and that was pushing the definition; Himiko might be willing to see him taken care of due to their professional relationship, even if she resented his enjoyment of the kill, but he could not imagine the teenager tending to his wounds any more than he could imagine himself attending to hers. Beyond them, he risked inviting scavengers calling on anyone else, and when he spotted the establishment from the alleyway he had paused in…

"Yet you came here," Paul noted, mind lingering on the other's admission. It was an odd statement for one whose life revolved around the kill; to call himself a murderer left a certain part of the man exposed, and probably unintentionally. It seemed even the infamous Dr. Jackal lingered on his conduct at times.

A thought occurred to him, and a small smile crept to his lips. "I expect if Ban and Ginji were here, no matter their history with you, they would have insisted you left in one piece."

Akabane would not admit he had been banking on that probability. Instead, he turned his attention back to the liquid pain killer that had once more filled the tumbler.

Natsumi returned then with a larger-than-average first aid kit, likely the main medical care the frequently penniless retriever duo that patronized the café relied on. Upon rounding the other side of the bar, her eyes widened with realization. Akabane leveled her with a sympathetic smile.

"It's not quite as bad as it looks," he swore to her.

"But…but there's a lot of…"

Blood. Across the floor, pooling under his feet, probably staining his coat except that the black fabric was exceptional at hiding stains of that nature, blood seemed to have followed in his wake the same way the coat billowed about him as he walked. She paled despite his assurance, swallowed hard at the thought of the pain he must be in. Ban and Ginji had a bad habit of getting themselves hurt, but this was beyond those injuries she had attended to.

"I do apologize for the floor."

"I expect you'll pay for the business this will cost me," Paul sighed as he came around the bar himself, pausing momentarily to give Natsumi a light tap on the shoulder. "I'll have to close until this is cleaned up, else I'll lose my patrons."

"Rest assured, you will be compensated," Akabane smiled.

Paul returned the smile with one of his own. At least one of his patrons knew how to settle his debts.

"…If you wouldn't mind," Akabane started after he finished off the third glass, "I do believe I should take a hand before should I embarrass myself with a fall."

Paul agreed, taking the taller man's arm and looping it over his shoulders as he eased himself off of the stool. The alcohol was thankfully lessening the pain, but it was not a cure for weakness of muscles when blood had been shed (and, Akabane knew, particularly dehydrating; rather the opposite of what he should have been drinking in this situation). Guided to the floor and positioned where he could lean against the wall when necessary, he then shrugged out of his coat. It had been spared the tears that rent his mess of a no-longer-white shirt, having been off his person at the time, and thankfully kept his state hidden after the bout concluded and he needed to lay low. Removing the shirt exposed his wounds, both fresh and long scarred over.

"My apologies, Natsumi-chan," he said when he caught the uncertain and somewhat sickly look beginning to consume the girl's features. "If this is too much for you-"

The resolute shake of her head cut him off.

"No," she said with conviction, pulling out the necessary items from the kit. "I can't just run away because it's a little scary. You need help and I'm not going to leave Master here to do all of the work."

Mouth parted on words he was not sure his mind had ever formed in the first place, Akabane simply stared at her. Naivety and natural kindness could account for her willingness to assist him, but he doubted she was entirely ignorant of his habits. The GetBackers no doubt had spoken of the trouble he had caused them on multiple occasions; how she could hear about his exploits and still be so insistent on aiding him, he did not know.

"Oh," Paul started on a thought. "Natsumi-chan, could you flip the sign and lock the door before I forget?"

"Sure."

Without warning (or arguably with warning, if one accounted for foreshadowing), the bell above the door frenetically announced an arrival. Accompanying it was a chorus of "Paul-san!" and "Natsumi-chan!" as four people spilled in through the door, and then a stunned silence followed as each set of eyes absorbed the scene.

"A-Akabane-san…?" a startled Ginji finally voiced. Beside him, Ban, Himiko, and Hevn all gave him the same disbelieving sort of stares. Likely either Himiko or Ban had smelled or seen the blood, and jumped to some conclusion as to what they expected to find inside. Obviously the spectacle before them was far beyond what they had imagined.

"One of you flip that sign and lock the door before more people wander in here," Paul instructed, saving Natsumi the trouble of having to walk around them. Hevn obliged.

"You look like someone who's been on the other end of your scalpels," Ban noted as he came around to stand behind Natsumi. "Do I get to shake his hand, or is this one of those you should have seen the other guy situations?"

"Ban!" Himiko reproached him, and they exchanged looks. Akabane raised an eyebrow.

"You gonna be okay, Akabane-san?" Ginji questioned him, kneeling by his side. Gone was the nervousness the former Lightning Emperor usually displayed when in the presence of the transporter, replaced with the willingness to aid he had hoped to encounter when he first approached the café. Even expecting the boy's sense of goodwill to act in favor of him, Akabane still found himself speechless in the face of it.

"…Thank you, Ginji-kun," he finally said. "I will be fine."

"Need a bit of my perfume for the pain?" Himiko offered unexpectedly. "It's not perfect, but it does take the edge off."

"No, that's alright," he assured her after taking another moment to comprehend her own kindness. Not entirely unpredicted, he would admit, but again he was faced with a reality he had not been able to imagine. "Paul-san was kind enough to provide me with something for that."

Their gazes drifted to the counter he nodded toward.

"God, you idiot," Ban reprimanded him. "Whiskey and blood loss don't mix. You of all people should know that."

The Jagan wielder's first remark was in perfect character. This one…

"Drink some water before you go passing out."

…not so much.

"I'll get some for him," Hevn offered, her own disapproving look holding his attention.

"You want me to work on this side?" Ginji asked Paul, referring to the wound closest to him.

Paul handed him the bottle of iodine. "Cleaning it would be a good start," he agreed. Natsumi handed him a large cotton pad in turn.

Hevn returned with a full glass, passing it over to him around the other hands dabbing at wounds, putting pressure on others. He stared into the water for a few moments, and then a short exhale of air escaped him. Another followed, and soon his shoulders were shaking with the laughter he could not contain. This whole situation was so laughably strange. The prospect of this number of people offering assistance, expressing concern over his wounds, his decisions, his pain, was so beyond him he could not help but tip his head back and laugh. It was right before him and yet he still could not imagine it.

"Alright, freak, let us in on the joke," Ban said, leveling him with a look that said he might have an idea.

"Helping me," he clarified, his mirth subsiding but not his disbelieving smile. "All of you."

"Even the Jackal has his allies," Himiko mused, smiling at the idea herself.

"Sure, you're scarier than anyone I've ever met," Ginji explained, "but it's not like we want you to die. We're allies sometimes, aren't we?"

"Allies is pushing it," Ban laughed. "A lot."

"Certainly," Akabane agreed.

Still…it appeared that one hand would not quite be enough to account for those who he could consider calling on, should the need ever arise again. He could not imagine it being the case, but he did not have to. The proof was right before him, in various forms, in some ways shaky at best, but still there. It would not change his desire to fight either of the GetBackers at full strength, or the way he would deal professionally with either Hevn or Himiko, or how often he would patronize the café in the future, but it was a comforting warmth he once thought entirely lost to him, something battlefields and gunfire had robbed from his being.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, interrupting the conversation that had continued while he was absorbed in his own thoughts. "Truly."

His appreciation seemed to make the others pause in reflection, until Paul took the liberty of breaking the unusual atmosphere.

"Like I said before, as long as you pay me for the business loss, we're even."

"I would never dream otherwise," Akabane pledged.

"Good," Paul confirmed. "Now Himiko-chan, do me a favor and take over for Ginji here. I've got a job for him and Ban."

Himiko and Ginji swapped places, the former seeming to take a minute before continuing where the latter left off. Akabane offered her a few words of wit in an attempt to ease the strangeness of the situation – it was one thing for Ginji to be assisting him, quite another for her to be in his place.

"What do you need from us?" Ban questioned Paul as he pressed gauze to one particularly deep slash.

"You two can start cleaning up this mess."

"What?!"

"Call it a start to settling your tab," he added, a smile creeping to his face.

"There is no way I'm cleaning Jackal's mess," Ban retorted, crossing his arms in conviction. "He waltzed on in here knowing he'd leave puddles, so that would be his job."

"Let's put it this way," Paul amended. "If you don't clean it up, you won't be able to have anything from here until the entirety of your tab is settled."

"Oh, come on!"

"I think he's serious, Ban-chan…" Ginji conceded, somehow already with the mop and bucket in his hands, though the look of defeat on his face spoke volumes of his agreement on the matter.

"Ginji, you gave up too quickly!"

The room started into laughter again as Ban tried to win Ginji back over, only to succeed in Paul offering to double their debt as well. Faced with that prospect, he finally yielded.

"I swear, Jackal, I'm going to kill you one of these days," he grumbled, mop angrily swiping across the floor.

"Best be certain we keep that battle out of this establishment, or I imagine Paul-san will put you to work again," he advised.

"Oh, shut up."

Akabane chuckled, partly for the amusement the Jagan wielder offered, partly for the entirety of the situation. This, he concluded, would be a comfort he would allow himself, if only for the sheer strangeness of it. If only this once.

Having people to rely on despite everything was not so hard to believe, he supposed.

I will admit, it's been a while since my last read-through of the GetBackers series, so I apologize if some of the characterization is really off or if I assumed things like Akabane having visited the Honky Tonk once or twice (has he actually? Not that it matters too much – fanfiction tends to forgive things like that). Akabane's OOC broodiness is an intentional stray from his usual character, because that's part of the exploration I'm messing around with, and because I like putting characters like him into situations where they aren't the strongest guy in the room. Sesshomaru of Inuyasha often gets that treatment from me. I figured it was time I gave him a break.

Also, his Divine Providence ability makes him OP as all hell, and really makes writing scenarios like this feel like I'm filling them with inconsistencies. Argh, fan fiction; you're an eternal dilemma of balancing canon with imagination.

Also written in a day because I'm avoiding EdTPA work (trying to become a teacher, and the parts of that test lend very well to wanting distractions). Please forgive a lack of development I'm sure is prevalent due to my determination to get it done and posted. Also, I considered ending this right after Akabane's expression of thanks, but wanted to throw in the note of humor to offset the broodiness. Let me know if I made the wrong decision.