Skwisgaar peered out from behind the heavy black curtain separating the backstage area from the stage. There had to be at least a few thousand people out there – probably more. Not surprising: Dethklok hadn't done a live show in nearly six months. Not since – not since...

The Swede turned away from the curtain, coming face-to-face with Toki. The younger man was still using his crutches backstage, but he'd healed to the point that he didn't need them onstage. Well, that was the theory, anyway. He'd done well enough in rehearsals, but Skwisgaar wondered if he was really ready.

"Lots of people out there," he said softly, in Norwegian so their band mates wouldn't overhear.

"Ja. At least five thousand. Probably more like eight or nine."

"Pretty good turnout, then."

"Pfft, of course. Are you really surprised?"

"No..." Toki shifted uncomfortably. "Eight or nine thousand? You're sure?"

"Probably, why?" Skwisgaar asked, crinkling his brow in confusion. Toki had never been bothered by large crowds before.

"Nothing," Toki sighed, and shifted again. "They could be out there, couldn't they?" he said at last. "The people who...last time...you know."

"The people who opened fire and nearly killed you," Skwisgaar said matter-of-factly. Toki winced, but nodded.

"You know what Charles told you. The Klokateers found the suspects. They're locked deep under Mordhaus now, and if they aren't dead, they soon will be."

"I know," Toki said, frowning. "That's what Charles said. But..." he looked away. "What if he's not always telling the truth?"

Skwisgaar snorted. "Pfft, little Toki. Why would he lie to us?" Even still, he couldn't forget the look on Charles' face when Toki told him about his death vision. The manager had been quick to assure them that it meant nothing, that it was just Toki's brain shutting down due to lack of blood and oxygen. But Skwisgaar had seen the worried look on his face, and the way he'd politely but quickly shown them out of his office soon after, citing the fact that he had a lot of work to do. And he knew Toki hadn't missed it either.

"Even if he is," he continued, an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine at the memory. "What are you going to do about it now, ja? You have to go out there, sooner or later."

"No I don't," Toki said stubbornly. "I never want to go out there again. You can't make me."

"Oh really?" asked Skwisgaar slyly. That sounded like a challenge if he'd ever heard one. Before he knew quite what he was doing, he'd crossed the gap between them, and kissed Toki full on the mouth.

The younger man went motionless from shock, but only for a moment. Then he was kissing him back with such a ferocity and intensity, it was clear to Skwisgaar that he'd wanted to do this for years. Dimly, the Swede wondered why he hadn't just done this ages ago.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, they broke the kiss. Toki stumbled back, his eyes wide.

"Mores later," Skwisgaar said, a devious smile curving his mouth. "But you gots to plays de show, forst."

Toki grinned back, threw down his crutches, and made his way toward the front of the stage and the chanting crowd.

A minute later, all thoughts of faceless gunmen and mysterious visions forgotten in lieu of what was in store after the show, Skwisgaar followed.

THE END.