Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin's not mine, not even if an imaginary invisible Sanosuke lives on my floor and drinks my Red Bull.

Right, Happy Valentine's Day… ^^;;

"Thoughts"

The snow was coming down thick and heavy. It was hard to see the world in between the flakes tumbling down from the grey skies overhead. He sat, cross-legged, on the porch of the dojo, hands on his knees, squinting out into the thick cloud of white.

He was waiting for Kenshin.

"Get in here right now!" Megumi had told him curtly, standing beside him and pinning him with her narrow-eyed glare. "Do you want to catch a cold?"

He'd growled some form of, "Go away," to her and continued sitting on the porch, even as she'd thrown her hands in the air in exasperation and gone to join the others in side. Damn woman. Damn women, in fact, because they were all crazy. Every last one of them.

Kenshin still hadn't come through the gate.

Not surprising. He'd been waiting for Kenshin for days now. His f**king ankle hadn't healed – what good was Megumi at all if she couldn't make the bone set faster? – and he was still stuck here, at the dojo, with alternating hopes of being able to go find Kenshin, or having the blue-eyed, red-haired rurouni return, and return soon at that.

Because Sanosuke was getting impatient.

He was impatient by nature, he knew. But more and more, lately, he'd been even more impatient than usual. He drummed his fingers idly on the polished wood surface he sat upon and tried not to think about it. Sanosuke was a man of action – he was most certainly not a boy, no matter what that baka Megumi called him, the old hag – and he didn't like thinking.

Especially not when his thoughts tended to lead him down the path they'd been taking these past few days.

Dammit, these past few weeks.

These past few months.

He shook his head, tossed those thoughts aside and stared back into the ever-thickening curtain of snow.

Kenshin must be cold.

Well, you're cold too. Stop worrying about whether or not he's cold and start worrying about whether or not he's alive.

I can't help it.

Can't help what? Worrying? Fine – they're all worried in there. Worry like them.

Like them? Like Kaoru?

No. Not like Kaoru. Worry like Yahiko, or like Genzai. Worry like Ayame and Suzume. But don't worry like Kaoru.

Well, I'm worried like that.

Stop it.

I can't.

He'd think you were a pervert.

He doesn't know.

Find some woman to worry about.

Women are stupid and irrational.

Kenshin was a killer.

He's not anymore. And it's not like I'm the picture of innocence myself.

Well, he worries about Kaoru.

I know that, dammit.

Then stop worrying about him.

I can't.

A neverending loop, inside his head, tiring him out more effectively than the fight between himself and Anji. More tiring than his last-minute rampage against Shishio.

You know why you did that, too. It wasn't to save Japan, baka.

I know.

You need help.

No I don't.

Yes you do. You need help. Or a woman.

No. I don't need anything – except for Kenshin.

He'll hate you.

I'm not going to tell him!

You'll be miserable.

I know. But at least he'll be near me.

If he's alive.

He's alive.