...Or, my take on what should've happened when Akane and Kogami parted at Shamballa.

Hello all, I have so many feelings about Kogami and Akane I had to write something. Also, I just really wanted to contribute somehow to this anime/movie because it has become one of my favorites. Enjoy and drop me a comment!

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"I'm not leaving alone!"

The sound of gunshots fills Akane's ears, drowning out the sound of her shouting. The the deep battle cries of the rebels reverberate in her chest as Kogami reaches out to put a firm hand on her shoulder. The smell of smoke burns in her nose, and she can see the bright glow of fire surrounding them before she looks back to the gleaming gunmetal blue of his eyes.

She can see his determination in them, her own reflected back at her, but she can tell he's not going to budge regardless of how much she argues with him. She knows he won't be coming with her.

It reminds her of the days he was hunting Makishima, the amount of sheer determination burning in his eyes is tantamount, and the same type of dread fills her stomach. She knows he's putting his life on the line for her again, that they'll be parting again with no definite reunion in sight.

She thinks back to all the times she thought of him while workng cases back in Tokyo; of all the times she tried to think like him in order to handle the cases the best she could. Hell, she'd even taken to smoking his damn cigarettes in order to bring him to the forefront of her mind when her memory alone couldn't.

She'd admit never it, but smoking them not only helped her during cases. They also managed to quench an ounce of the overwhelming loneliness that would occasionally sneak up on her when she thought of the days back when the old team was still together. Losing Kagari and Masaoka had been a painful blow, but when Kogami left on his own volition, she felt like she was losing a part of herself.

And how could she not? He was the one that taught her to question the authority of Sybil, had been the one to drill into her head, particularly after Yuki's death, that the system was flawed. He'd changed her thinking, had reshaped her person. He is responsible for most of what she's become. He is the one who has helped her with every success she's had. Even with the perceived power imbalance between their duties, she knows he is truly the one to whom she owes her life.

He tests her, challenges her. He makes her question the legal authority of the system, makes her question what is truly right. Ever since the day she chose to pull the trigger, he's helped shape her into the inspector and woman she is today.

If someone had told her five years ago that she would eventually be aiding an international terrorist by her own free will, she would have laughed in their face, and probably punched them for thinking her moral standing to be so low. Yet here she was, begging an enemy of Japan to pleasecome with her, to stay with her, even though she knows he will most likely be arrested where she's going, but at least he will be alive.

Being out here in the gunfire, it has become even more apparent to her that their lives are limited. How much would she regret if this was really the last time she were to see him? Would she be able to live with herself if she didn't manage to convince him that returning with her is the best option?

But then again… is it really?

She wants to throw herself at him, wrap her arms around his shoulders and whisper fiercely in his ear that she will see him soon. Because she will. She wants to grab his face and make sure he is looking her in the eye when she tells him she intends on keeping the promise of meeting again without the barrier of Sybil keeping them on two different sides. She will see him again.

On a split-second impulse she grabs his face between two surprisingly gentle palms, pulls him down to her height, and presses a light kiss to his lips. The touch is soft, timid, but the grip of his hand on her shoulder tightens to an almost painful degree. Her kiss is gentle, but the emotional force put behind it has her hands trembling as she brushes her thumbs along his jaw. It speaks of a future filled with so many promises and possibilities it nearly brings them both to their knees.

They aren't done. Not by a long shot.

She pulls away after a few seconds, barely giving him enough time to press back. Her hands brush down his neck, settling on his shoulders before she presses their foreheads together. The hand not gripping her shoulder comes up to cup her jaw. Their breaths mingle as he speaks.

"I'm not going to die," he promises, gunmetal blue boring into amber brown. His thumb lightly brushes over her bottom lip, committing its softness to memory. He leans in, leaving their mouths only millimeters apart.

"Promise me," his fingers pause to grip her chin, and their lips brush together lightly as he speaks, "when we both get out of here, you'll try to catch me again."

All the air rushes out of her lungs, and the burning tears behind her eyes are pushing hard to make themselves known, but she refuses to let herself look so weak in front of him. She lowers her eyes to his feet as she thinks.

She knows he's right, that he will be fine, but the echoing sounds of gunshots ringing in her ears keeps her from stepping away. All he's done since she arrived at the rebel's base is protect her. She wanted so badly to return the favor and all she's done since she's gotten here is cause him trouble... But she knows he's right. She will see him again.

One hand she has resting on the side of his neck smooths down to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt covering his chest. She takes a deep breath before determinedly looking him in the eye.

"Okay."

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