Well, what can I say? This plot bunny hopped up, bit me squarely on the ass and wouldn't let leave me alone for the entire time I was home visiting family over the holidays. I had been eagerly gobbling up episodes of Gluhen as they came out, but found myself dissatisfied as I watched it; many things seemed illogical and unexplained, and my mind got to thinking of ways to fill in the gaps. The next thing I knew I had five pages' worth of fic outline on my hands. ^_^

Since Gluhen is currently airing in Japan, and I know I won't be able to fit this exactly to canon, I'm going to slap a big ole' AU on it. There'll be a little bit of shounen ai (since that's what I write), but it will (hopefully) not be gratuitous.

Oh, and don't take anything for granted in this fic. Trust me. ^_~

Anyhow, my usual disclaimer stands. I'm an engineer, not an anime producer. I don't own 'em; I'm just playing nicely with the boys for a bit. I'll return them to their respective owners when I'm finished, hopefully in the same condition they were in when I borrowed them.

Talking to the Dead

Prologue

"Howdy, stranger. Fancy meeting you here."

Ken froze, his hands gripping his knees to keep them from knocking together in fear. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the presence of the too-familiar voice, inwardly cursing the futility of it.

"Come on, it hasn't been that long, has it?" A friendly hand gripped his shoulder, forcing the reality of the situation to the forefront. Ken sighed, opened his eyes, and turned to greet his former teammate.

And received the shock of his life.

"Y-Yohji?"

A hand swept up and tilted an outlandish cowboy hat out of his eyes. Sure enough, the same green eyes he remembered from - what had it been? Six months ago? - stared out from underneath, piercing him with an appraising look of their own.

"Got it in one, kid." Yohji finished his quick assessment of Ken and looked down at his hands. "Come on, I don't look that bad, do I?"

"No!" Ken backpedaled. "Just... different." He smiled, trying to ease the tension he had inadvertently created. "It's just... you're hard to recognize without your sunglasses."

"Well, I can't always be looking the same, you know. Gotta keep stylin' to keep the ladies interested." He grinned, removing his hat and running his fingers through the newly shorn locks while observing Ken's dumbstruck expression. "And what have we here? Am I the only person these days able to find a respectable barber?"

Ken shook his head in bemusement and shrugged off the comment, before turning back to his previous object of contemplation. He knelt to the ground and bowed his head, breathing deep the heady scent of incense in the air.

To his surprise, Yohji dropped to his knees as well, removing his hat and placing a bouquet of crimson roses at the base of the grave. Incense swirled in lazy curls up to the sky as the men offered their prayers in silence.

Ken finished his prayers, getting up to leave the graveyard. I'll return later, he promised, when I'm better company to be around. Fighting the tightness in his throat, he turned to say goodbye to Yohji.

Yohji was already standing, cowboy hat perched rakishly atilt on his head so that his right eye was completely covered. Sighing, Yohji looked back at the grave marker. "Dammit," he muttered. "I wish I could have at least gone to the funeral."

Ken regarded him with surprise; he had thought at least Yohji would have made it. "Why didn't you?"

"Oh? So you weren't there either?" Yohji swooped closer, obviously equally if not more surprised by Ken's inadvertent admission.

Ken refused to meet his questioning gaze, turning away to stare off into the distance at the darkening sky. "No."

Perhaps sensing he had overstepped a boundary, Yohji backed off. "Then I guess that leaves only Aya."

Ken's silent assent rang hollow in the air.

"Assuming he wasn't indisposed, of course," Yohji added quickly.

"I'm certain he wasn't." Ken tried to rein the bitterness back in his tone, but found that despite the effort, he was still unable to completely mask it.

Yohji shrugged, pulling a well-worn pack of cigarettes out of his trenchcoat. He scrutinized the smashed packet for a long moment, as though contemplating it, before shaking his head and returning the pack to the inner pocket of his coat.

Ken ceased to look off in the distance and instead stared at the grave marker in front of him. He knew he should leave this place, move on, but it was hard; it held many more memories than he was ready to let go of just yet.

"Hey Ken," Yohji's voice once again broke his reverie. He was not certain if he ought to be happy for the distraction, or annoyed that he would not be left alone to mourn in peace.

"Yeah?" he bit back, perhaps harsher than intended.

Gesturing at the grave marker in front of them, Yohji spoke. "Well, err, I was just kind of wondering... which one do you think holds his remains?"

Ken furrowed his eyebrows. "'Which one?'"

"You know, grave." He gestured wildly with his arms. "Omi Tsukiyono, or... Mamoru Takatori."

"Oh." Ken shrugged. He had already had this debate with himself. "If I had to guess, I'd say Omi Tsukiyono. That was the name he chose to keep, so I imagine he'd want to be buried under that name."

Yohji nodded.

"But I left flowers at both of them, just in case." Ken finally turned and looked at Yohji. "It wouldn't do to offend the dead."

"Ah... I guess I'll have to hope that Omi's here, then, because I forgot to bring flowers for Mamoru. The thought only just occurred to me." Yohji straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off of his trenchcoat. "Well, I need to be going. I've got places to be and ladies to see. See you around, Ken." He turned around, and with a jaunty step, headed in the direction of the graveyard entrance.

Something whispered in the back of Ken's mind, jolting him into action. "Yohji! Wait!"

Yohji paused in step, turning his head to regard his former teammate. "Eh? Do you need something?"

Ken fought the constriction in his throat. Why is this so difficult? "I was just wondering if, if this means that..." His courage gave out, and he stared at Yohji hopelessly, his eyes pleading with Yohji to answer his unspoken question.

...If this means that you'll be rejoining Weiss.

Yohji frowned. "I'll be around. That's all I'll say for now. Seeya." He turned around and continued walking toward the entrance. Ken watched silently as he disappeared from his vision.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me again, then, Omi." He bent down, gathering the flowers together to rearrange into a more aesthetically appealing arrangement. Halfway through the process he stopped, suddenly realizing the inappropriateness of his action.

He looked askance at the grave marker. "I guess I should just leave these alone, right? You'd probably think they were perfect, regardless."

He scrutinized his half-finished work. Though perhaps Yohji's flowers were more appropriate, he preferred the white periwinkle to roses any day. Years of working around flowers had taken away much of the mystery and charm he had formerly associated with roses, and grown his appreciation of the less-popular blooms.

Idly, he picked up one of the periwinkles and twirled it in his fingers. "What do you think, Omi?" he wondered aloud. "Should I go back?"

He tried to picture Omi's face in his mind; tried to imagine how Omi would respond. A bright smile, perhaps, and an admonition to follow his heart. Yes, that would be Omi's response.

"I guess I'll think about it, then." Gently, he laid the flower next to the rest of the periwinkles, offset to the side slightly, with the stem overlapping one of Yohji's roses. Ken picked his coat up from the ground and put it on, buttoning it to ward off the evening chill. The sun was setting, and he still had another stop to make before he went home.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now." He gave the marker a tentative smile. "I'll come back later like I promised, when I've made my decision, and tell you all about it." He backed three steps away, bowed quickly, turned, and jogged back in the direction of the entrance.

Shortly before the entrance, he made a detour to his right, past five grave markers, followed by a quick left. He leaned down and placed a single dried white rose in front of the marker.

As he turned to leave, the last rays of sunset faded away in the twilit sky. In a couple of minutes, the lights would turn on and spoil the beautiful unobstructed view of the night sky. Ken made his way slowly back to the entrance of the graveyard, eyes fixed on the sky, as the stars started coming out.

Barely readable in the shadows, the neglected stone marker kept silent sentry over its single flower. Only the name remained legible:

HIDAKA KEN.

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crimson rose - mourning

white periwinkle - I Will Always Remember You

rose (white - dried) - Death is Preferable To Loss of Virtue