Disclaimer: Shotaro Ishinomori's, not mine

Author's Warnings: There is shounen-ai in this fic. Jet/Albert, to be precise. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might not want to read this. There are also spoilers for the end of the 2001 anime in here, too, but if you know how Ishinomori originally ended the manga and why he changed that ending, you should be okay.

Albert's visits were infrequent and brief, but Jet honestly didn't care. Not when he woke up in the morning and could hear him in the kitchen, not when they were out walking Jimmy to school and he would glance at him, and certainly not when he was pressed up against him at night. As long as he had that, he didn't give a damn about anything else.

They had never bothered trying to figure out whatever it was they had. That was just fine with him. He knew that there were parts of Albert he would never see; just as there were parts of him he was never going to show him or anyone else. That was just how people were, especially people who had gone through what they had. So it wasn't until he was going through his closet, hunting for a shirt clean enough to postpone the dreaded trip to the Laundromat for another day, and kept finding Albert's things instead, that it finally dawned on Jet that he was in way, way over his head.

He collapsed on his bed, the laundry a long lost memory. Dammit, how could he have been so naive? He had known from the very beginning that Albert would never be his, not really. How the hell did he forget that? It wasn't as if Albert hadn't reminded him. Yes, he shared his bed, but it was her name he said in his sleep.

He should've known better. Albert knew better. But he had let it happen anyway.

Then again, I've never been known for using my head.

He could hear the phone ringing in the living room. Grateful for any sort of distraction, he answered it before it could ring a second time.

"Hi… Joe? What's wrong? No. No, that can't be. Dammit, Joe, we made sure they would never come back! … Fine, fine. Yeah, I'll be at the field like always. Just don't be late picking me up this time."

Jet banged his fist against the wall, and then went to find his uniform.

Part Two.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to see in the afterlife, but it certainly hadn't been Doctor Gilmore and Francoise. Seeing how they were hovering over him, Jet was fairly certain he had somehow survived his rescue turned suicide mission. But did Joe survive? He tried asking them, but he couldn't stop coughing.

"It's okay, Jet." Francoise smiled down at him gently. "You're safe now, and so is Joe. See?" She stepped aside and there he was, pale, leaning against the wall for support, but alive.

"You look pretty good for someone who fell from the stratosphere." Joe grinned at him weakly.

"The same could be said for you, 009." Doctor Gilmore didn't look up as he began to put away his tools. "002, you were touch and go for awhile- primarily because you're an outdated model and we had difficulty replacing your damaged parts- but it looks like you'll be making a recovery." The elderly man helped Joe keep his balance as they left. "All right, you've seen him and know he's all right. Now it's time for both of you to get some rest." He looked at Jet pointedly before he left.

"… I think… he thinks… I'm not the type to listen to reason."

"Gee, I wonder where he would have gotten that idea." Francoise ran a hand through her hair. "Look in the corner. I want you to see something."

He hadn't noticed before, but Albert was slouched in a chair, fast asleep. The third cyborg gave him affectionate look. "He's been here the entire time. The Doctor tried telling him to get some rest, several times, but he said he wasn't leaving until you were awake. I guess he finally gave in to exhaustion."

"Did he really say that?"

"Of course he did. You know, he's a lot fonder of you than you think. Now try and get some sleep, okay?" The door clicked behind her as she left.

Part Three.

When he came to, Albert was still there and still out. "Hey. Heinrich. Get up already"

Only half-awake, he rubbed the back of his neck, most likely trying to work out the aches caused by sleeping in a hard wooden chair. "Mm… Jet? You're finally up." He was doing his best at looking composed as usual, but there was something in his eyes Jet had never seen before.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm up." The room was silent for what seemed like a very long time. "Look, I didn't get a chance to say it before, but… I'm sorry about Biina."

"So am I." Albert watched the light glint off of his gun hand. "She told us about the horrible things she and her sisters had gone through, how all they wanted was to just live freely… it sounded just like what Hilda and I went through in East Germany. And I guess a part of me saw it as my chance to make up for what happened to my wife." His features became grim. "You'd think I would know better."

He was surprised to feel Albert's steel fingers brush the side of his face. "But Jet, when you went to save Joe, I watched you disappear into the sky… and then crashing into the ocean, and I couldn't do a damned thing about it." He shook his head. "If you had died..."

"Well… I didn't die."

"I know." The only thing that surprised Jet more than Albert caressing his cheek was when he bent down to kiss him, softly and slowly.

A part of Albert would always be with Hilda, and a part of Albert would always be with Biina. And now, he realized as he began to kiss him back, a part of Albert would be with him as well.