Okay I think this is officially the longest chapter yet. 8,929 words. Count 'em. *dies* But you know what? It makes sense.

This is after all the last chapter. *wails* I'm glad I managed to finish it- and I hope you do like the ending. It's open enough to pick up where I left off if I ever want to (which I doubt, but you never know^^) but it also ends comfortably. I won't say anything else- you can read and decide for yourself. But I am inordinately proud that I finished this.

Heck, I'm proud I made it past chapter five. *grin*

But I'm really thankful to everyone who took their time to read this and stuck with it from chapter one. Thank you. To everyone who reviewed and 'alerted' and added this to your favorites- and everyone who simply lurked- you're all awesome! My writing has drastically developed for the better if you look back at the story. It's quite funny :)

Thanks if you voted. We all seem to have a similar taste for mischievous red-heads ;) *drools* That 'sequel' of sorts shall be on Kiyoko. I say 'sequel'. It's really a separate story with a couple of familiar characters cropping up. I may not write it for a while, just because I don't want to go from one project to another too quickly (I won't be as enthusiastic) so I'll do a few one-shots and short stories here an dthere before that.

*waves* Kinthina- thank you. You are awesome, and I'd never been able to get through that sea of misspellings without you. Awesome, awesome beta-ing :D

So for the last time, here I disclaim. And... on with the show.

~Mari

There was probably something weird about watching someone when they were asleep. In fact, there were laws against it. Something to do with stalking and voyeurism and other incriminating labels which he didn't want to think about right now. The thing was, he didn't think he could actually leave. He got… paranoid when he spent extended periods of time away from her. Like by letting her out of his sight, it would happen all over again. Ridiculous, yes he knew. This would have been amusing, if it weren't so serious. He took off his glasses carefully with his injured hand. He avoided looking at it too much. It always inspired disturbingly uncontrollable hysterical laughter.

He punched Jirou's face in, and got a few torn up knuckles and some bruising? While she was half dead? He didn't know what he felt.

The way he was behaving was growing increasingly pathetic. He couldn't even… look at her. Not when she was awake. It inspired the kind of intense emotion he usually equated with the heroes of trashy romance novels. And though he would poke his eyes out with a spoon before entertaining the notion that he was in any way like those two-dimensional cardboard cut-outs, he had to admit that of late he was beginning to see more of their tendency towards the dramatic within himself than he would like.

He rubbed his face feeling strangely depressed. Bad enough that Fuyumi actually made him read the damn things (Something about making him sensitive to women's needs. Although when he thought of women's 'needs' his mind drifted to tampons and other things that honestly? A man should simply leave well enough alone.)

He just couldn't figure out… why. No, that was wrong, he'd figured it out. He'd read enough of those novels to know that he'd fallen in the same trap they all had, somehow whilst still remaining blithely unaware. Which, he'd always considered inherently stupid- how could you not know how you felt?-though he supposed clichés were clichés for a reason. He loved her. Or as close to it as he could anyway for an emotionally deprived child with no clear concept of what the word 'love' actually meant. Or what it looked like. Or how it felt.

He turned his glasses over and rubbed them with his sleeve, replacing them on his face unthinkingly. He felt like he was five again, all legs and arms with really bad asthma and not a single friend. Not since Tamaki had he felt so utterly confused, probably worse because this time it wasn't just frustration at someone as inherently different from him as it was possible to be- it was Melinda. How did he put her into words?

She was like him. Except when she wasn't. And shy. Except when she was outgoing. Reserved, but also so colorful and bright sometimes it made his eyes hurt to look at her. It was like she was everything- everything he'd ever looked for without ever looking for it.

And now all this sentimentality was literally bringing what little food he'd been able to stomach back up his esophagus.

He knew without a doubt that falling in love was possibly the worst business decision he'd ever made in his life. There were far too many variables and inconsistencies. The most glaringly obvious being that it was highly unlikely that his feelings were reciprocated while the most terrifying being that, well, he didn't trust this. It was his experience that nothing good ever lasted. Even the Host Club wouldn't be his for much longer. Not to mention the fact it would probably affect his ability to suitably charm the girls who frequented the Host Club. How was he supposed to be Prince 'handsome-dashing-charming' when he only felt like being that way for one girl?

Fidelity was a disgusting thing.

His desire to adhere to it religiously was even more vomit-inducing. What was wrong with him?

He was a Host. He made it his business to make people fall in love with him. He was quite good at it, there was no point talking around it or being modest. He could spot infatuation growing from the first flicker of interest in a girl's eyes and he knew how to fan the flames of that infatuation. After all, he had a business to run, and he needed to do anything it took to make sure it ran smoothly. If that made him a bad person then so be it.

It wasn't personal, it was just good business. 'Nice' didn't come into the equation. For three years he'd watched girls move from one Host to another. Fickle and insincere. They'd all professed love for him at some point or other, but it never lasted past a few months. And he understood that, it made sense to him.

This didn't. The worst thing was, he was afraid. Because what if he woke up one morning and this feeling was gone, just as suddenly as it had materialized. He grunted in frustration, biting his lip when he saw her stir.

"You okay kid?" Richard asked gently, walking in the room quietly so he didn't wake Melinda. "You look like hell warmed over."

Kyoya looked up. That made sense. He felt like hell. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something more substantial than a cracker, but he wasn't hungry. His body felt strangely separate from him. "I'm fine."

Richard's P.O.V

Richard looked at the boy skeptically. "No you're not." Richard said, sitting on one of the hospital chairs. He could swear they made those things uncomfortable on purpose so people wouldn't linger in the wards. A quick glance told him his daughter hadn't found any new life-threatening danger- her tendency to do that would give him a heart attack before he saw fifty- he turned his attention on the boy who, he'd been told, had refused to leave for the last three nights. Kyoya was sitting next to the bed with a piece of folded paper in his hands he'd been reading and re-reading over and over again for the past couple of days. He was watching Melinda with an air of composure that Richard didn't believe for a second. Not for one second.

His gaze had the boy squirming in his seat. Which was relatively new. Kyoya never 'squirmed', he just didn't. He didn't writhe uncomfortably or avert his eyes, or be anything other than utterly composed in the face of scrutiny. Kyoya sighed. Well there certainly was a first time for anything, but his propensity for finding himself in emotionally charged situations was disturbing him.

"Why do you say that?" He asked flatly.

Richard raised a disbelieving eye. "Anybody with eyes and a brain would draw the same conclusion." Although with that said, most people couldn't even claim that much. "Now why don't you tell me what's wrong, son? Aside from the obvious."

"That's not enough?" Kyoya asked skeptically. "I assumed that would have been adequate to traumatize anyone."

"But you're not just anyone." Richard pointed out. "Ootori's are made of sterner stuff than that, I've known your father long enough to know that, and I think you're the same. There's something else bothering you." He said simply stared out of the window and fell silent, leaving the topic open and the ball firmly in his court.

Kyoya knew that tactic. He'd used it often to get something out of Fuyumi. It didn't exactly inspire euphoria to have the same technique used against him. But it filled him with a strange sense of pride to know it worked so well.

"Not to disappoint you, but the inane musings of a teenage boy are hardly the drama you're making them out to be." He said wryly. "You'd have more luck wringing some sense out of these doctors."

"They do all seem to be rather moronic in nature." Richard agreed, noting that he really had to see whoever managed this hospital as soon as possible. Their treatment had been appalling. Only yesterday he'd had to disillusion a young nurse of the notion that they would be taking Melinda home sooner than advised simply because she'd opened her eyes. And what about a relapse? Well… she hadn't argued much after he'd threatened her job if his daughter's health declined.

Yes, he could be a bastard when necessary.

"Thank heavens this isn't one of our hospitals. The standards here are simply unacceptable." Kyoya said in disgust. "Melinda woke up in the middle of the night in pain and it took half an hour for a nurse to come and sedate her. I could have…"

"Sued somebody?" Richard asked, a twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.

"Yes." Kyoya said darkly.

Richard just shook his head. "I see so much of your father in you." He mused aloud. Kyoya stiffened and set his lips in a grim line. Richard frowned but didn't push it, watching the rise and fall of Melinda's chest.

"I'd rather you didn't." Kyoya said finally. "He's not someone I aspire to emulate."

Now that was worrying. He sat up in his chair and looked closely at the boy.

"Is that simply a statement, or is there a reason behind it."

He saw the boy's eyes flick almost imperceptibly to his daughter and smiled.

"There's a reason." Kyoya said quietly but firmly. He didn't offer an explanation. Richard didn't ask for one. The silence stretched and molded itself to the room. Fitting comfortably with the sharp smell of disinfectant and the cool medicinal smell that hospitals always stunk of.

"You know son, it is incredible how often intelligent men let good things slip away." He said thoughtfully. "For any number of reasons. I've done it, your father's done it, and you will too, eventually." He watched Kyoya carefully, smiling a little when the boy caught his eye. "What you have to decide is whether the regret will be worth it. Because I assure you, there will always be regret."

He looked meaningfully at his daughter, cataloguing every breath taken as something precious. He stood and made to leave. If he had to let her go to anybody, at least he was sure the bespectacled boy was doing the same.

"Sir?" Kyoya asked, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand."

Richard smiled. "I know. You will, though. Give it time." He turned and opened the door. "Just for the record son, if you're still looking to be my son-in-law, the position's wide open." He grinned, and walked out.

By the time morning came around Kiyoko wasn't quite sure what had happened to the night. She didn't remember how she'd got to bed, much less what she did yesterday or why she was wearing her pyjamas inside out and lying on a pile of newspapers. What she was absolutely certain of was the fact that downstairs her parents were still talking far too loudly for a Monday morning and it was a week since she'd lost her last job. She sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't keep the shop open much longer. Not when she was so broke.

She found herself wishing she was still on the yacht drinking gratuitous amounts of wine, being force fed so much rich food it would give her indigestion, and generally having the best time she'd had in twenty-four years. The hangover she'd had from that night had manifested itself as a migraine of terrifying proportions which had left her incapacitated for most of the day. Before her mother had forced her to drive Aiko to her dojo for Kendo practice and she'd been forced to listen to her little sister wax poetic about some boy she was training with.

She'd left puberty far, far behind her and was not going to relive it through her loquacious kid sister. That was not happening.

Terrible as it may sound, she really could care less about her sister's love life. Especially when her brain was trying to force its way out of her head by doing its best impression of a jackhammer. She fought the urge to cry. It was silly, she knew. It wasn't as if she could control what happened. These things just came and went, good luck, bad luck. Shop, no shop. Didn't matter that it took five years to set the damn thing up.

Don't have hysterics over spilt milk… or something.

She stumbled out of bed and made her way groggily to the bathroom in the hall, trying not to look at her appearance too much in the mirror because she didn't think her poor, abused heart could take that kind of shock that early in the morning.

By rights she was supposed to be using her twenties to ingest obscene amounts of alcohol, try as many drugs as she could before she reached her peak, sleep around as much as possible with every guy who made himself available and generally party her way through life trying to accumulate as few STDs as possible.

Except that had never been her. She'd never been much of a party girl. Or a junkie. Or an alcoholic. Or a walking herpes bank. Driven, determined. That's what she'd been. She'd wanted to be a chef for too long to get side-tracked by stupid things. It was a dream that she'd had for… God, she didn't know how long now. But she wanted it. With every fiber of her being.

"Time to pick up a new hobby, kiddo." She told her reflection morosely. At least the glass didn't crack. That was something.

When she deemed herself presentable to the rest of society she wandered downstairs, crumpled newspaper clippings in hand- which turned out to be job advertisements. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Were have ye been?" Her mother demanded when she stepped into the kitchen, hands on hips, legs akimbo. "I've been calling ye fer ages. Now yer Da' has gone and done you a favor. Tell her Tim." She waved at her husband to speak and busied herself at the stove. Kiyoko sat at the table, somewhat confused.

"I went and found ye a job, my girl." He grinned proudly, buttering his toast. "Ye know the fast food restaurant down in the market? The new one?"

No, no. Oh please God, say he didn't.

"Yer old Da' went and pulled a few strings and manage to get ye a job down there flipping buns or summat. Pay's pretty good. For that sort of thing." He grinned widely.

She knew she hadn't always been the most religious person but she'd start! She'd pray every day. She'd say her 'Hail Mary's' every hour on the hour. She'd go to confession every day for the next two months.

She wouldn't even lie to the priest. Promise.

Just don't let him actually mean he had got her job selling cholesterol in a bun.

"…Ye start tomorrow. Isn't that great?" He was smiling widely. How exactly was she supposed to say no- without saying no. She knew her Da'. He was so sensitive it was ridiculous. If she said outright she didn't want the job he'd walk around the house looking like a kicked puppy for weeks.

The man could guilt trip anyone.

Which is probably why she said what she did next.

"But Da', I already have a job." She mentally slapped herself on the forehead the minute the words left her mouth, calling herself all kinds of fool.

He paused, toast halfway to his mouth and looked at her in surprise. "Ye do?" He asked.

"When did this happen?" Her mother asked suspiciously, turning away from the stove to look at her. She was going to lie to her parents. She was going to burn in hell for this.

"I told ye Ma'. About the Hitachiin twins?"

"Aye," her mother said. "I remember you telling me how they cost you yer job."

She swallowed, avoiding her mother's glare.

"No, not at all." The look she was being fixed with was enough to inspire terror in the toughest of men. Stalin had nothing on her Ma'. "Well, okay yeah they did. But they offered me a job too."

"As what? Their cook? Because I happen to know they hired-"

"As their maid." Kiyoko interrupted before her Ma' could get properly angry and start threatening to take a wooden spoon to her backside. She would too. "They offered me a job, seeing as they lost me my old one."

There was surprised silence. Her Da' recovered quicker. "Come on Louise, congratulate the girl. She's working for on of the most influential families in Japan. We need to be happy for her- our daughter's going places." He stood walked across the table and hugged her tight.

"I'm proud of ye girl."

"Thanks Da'." She rubbed his back awkwardly and avoided her Ma's sharp eyes. She hoped the Hitachiin's generosity- or amusement, whichever was predominant- was still valid... and that she hadn't lost the stupid card they'd given her.

Was there a special place in hell for people who lied to their parents? Not that she'd never done it before.

She'd just never done it so badly.

"I would like to assure you," Kyoya started quietly. "That whatever you're thinking of doing right now would be best left until after she is coherent enough to understand what it is you're shoving under her nose to be signed. She's barely lucid. Not fit, you'll agree, to give consent to anything."

"Ah, of… of course." The young doctor said wondering why the mere sight of the boy set fear roiling in his chest. "I'll...I'll just come back later then."

"Yes. I think that would be a good idea." Kyoya said, fixing the man with a stare so lethal he was sure if looks could kill he'd be a liquidated mess on the floor. Bobbing his head at the bespectacled boy he left the room as fast as humanly possible whilst still retaining some semblance of dignity.

Melinda stared after him, groggy and dazed. It would be accurate to say that Kyoya was just this side of enraged with a healthy dose of righteous anger thrown in there for good measure. He couldn't believe the man had tried to get her to sign release forms- release forms- whilst she was in a state where he strongly doubted she could even remember her own name.

She giggled. "Hey Kyoya, you know that guy?" She slurred drunkenly. He sighed and propped another pillow behind her back to stop her head lolling all over the place. The last thing she needed was something else to add to her catalogue of injuries.

"What about him?"

"I think he pissed himself." She laughed. Kyoya fought very hard to stop his jaw from dropping. Scratch that, never mind remember her name, she evidently didn't remember her age either.

"He might've done, yes." He couldn't resist smirking a little. "Don't worry though, he's a big boy. He'll clean up his own messes."

"Mom said I wet the bed 'till I was four." She held up four fingers. God, he wasn't actually having this conversation with her was he? "She said it was 'cause I was scared of the dark. Sometimes, I'm still scared of the dark." She said, as though entrusting a great confidence in him.

Kyoya stared. Was there some way he was supposed to respond? Evidently she required one. Well, for what he was paying to go to Ouran he was discovering a large hole in his education. Namely, on how to hold conversation with someone so high on painkillers they'd regressed to age four.

"That's… nice." He finally settled for. Which didn't seem to be the right answer judging by her skeptical look, but she let it go so it must've been okay.

"Really? 'Cause when I told Danyl she said it was stupid to be scared of the dark when you're four. She said only babies were scared of the dark."

Dear sweet Jesus, this wasn't happening to him. Did she need a girl to talk to or something? He could do that. He could get Fuyumi down here right now if he had to. Or a shrink. Whichever was required.

"But I think Danyl's just sad because her sister doesn't sleep in the same room as her anymore." Melinda said, suddenly seeming somewhat more… mature. "They do everything together you know. Kinda like you and Tamaki." She smiled.

"Really?" He said, forcing himself to calm down. Nothing would happen to him, it was just a little conversation. Nothing he'd never done before. Currently, it felt like he was conversing with a certifiable madwoman, but it was conversation nonetheless.

"Yeah. I've never had a friend like that. You're really lucky Kyoya." He looked at her sharply, something in her voice had sounded strangely… coherent. Whatever it had been though, had seemingly passed.

The matter-of-fact statement tugged at him nonetheless.

She was looking around now. She'd noticed the flowers. The whole room was filled with them, top to bottom. From 'friends' and admirers. Most of them were from the combined efforts of Kyoya's own father and Fuyumi. A large bouquet of daffodils sat by her bedside.

"Those are from your class." He supplied helpfully. "They came by to see you when you were asleep."

"Well that was stupid." She wrinkled her nose, as if she found the very thought funny. "Why not come see me when I'm awake?"

"I don't think they thought about it that way." He smiled indulgently, getting the hang of it.

"Well they should have." She stated. She reached out and grasped the stem of a flower, pulling it out of its vase and holding it up to the light. She didn't seem to do it with conscious thought. Kyoya put the vase just out of reach. He didn't trust her not to accidentally break it and cut herself. "The flowers are very pretty." She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Then put it back on the table beside her bed. "But I don't think I like them."

He looked up from where he was trying to arrange her tray of somewhat sentient hospital food and wondering if it was actually fit for human consumption. He tilted his head to the side and watched her struggle for coherency through the cocktail of painkillers she was pumped with.

"Why not?" He asked, finding that he was honestly curious.

She stared at the tulip, not really seeing it. "Because, people only give you flowers at funerals." She said sadly.

Of course, things didn't suddenly change for the better. There were still a few lingering screw-ups, I had around three or four doctors around me every day and I'd resigned myself somewhat to the fact that I'd never be allowed to do as much as breathe without a chaperone. Ever again. Everyone was pretty unmoving on this point, and for all my protests, I was somewhat relieved.

I'd been having nightmares. Understandable I suppose. It's not likely many people escape life-threatening situations without being scarred in some way. Be it emotionally, physically, or even simply the fact that I couldn't stand pet names. I really couldn't. I'd almost bitten my Dad's head off for calling me 'darling' again, and I felt bad about it. I did. I just… it made my flesh crawl in all sorts of ways and made me feel violated all over again.

I couldn't endure that all over again. I just couldn't.

"It's okay Melinda." He'd said, pushing my hair out of my face. "Really, it's fine. You just need some time."

Except he knew and I knew that was a blatant lie. I've begun to deeply mistrust anybody who tried to approach me with lines such as 'everything heals with time'. Or 'one day you'll look back on all of this like a bad dream.'

They'd had to sedate me again after a nurse had said that to me and I'd lunged for her neck. She didn't fucking know what she was talking about. Let her be kidnapped, beaten and betrayed. Then we'd talk. Until then the sight of her made me want to do very violent things to her general person. Maybe 'time' would numb the memory, and perhaps I'd move on with my life. I was already beginning to, a little. It happened, I couldn't change it, so I would do my best to live with it.

That didn't mean it would go away. I refused to delude myself.

Raped. It's such an ugly word to look at, to think about. Everybody had been tiptoeing around me since I'd been lucid enough to understand what the hell they were talking about. I wouldn't speak to the male nurses or orderlies or doctors, and thankfully they seemed to understand that. I was currently sitting in the room alone, trying not to think about the starch sheets scratching my… leg. Singular. I swallowed. That was taking some getting used to.

I was pointedly not thinking about it.

Kyoya was sitting in that same chair he'd been in every time I woke up. I knew my memory was unreliable, what with the fact I'd fallen sporadically in and out of consciousness since I was admitted into the hospital, but I could swear he'd been wearing the same vest and jeans combo when I'd woken up two days ago. Did he go home at all? He must have at some point, but the heavy bags under his eyes suggested otherwise. Even in sleep he was perfectly controlled, head held stiffly upright, back ramrod straight.

It was admirable, that someone could actually fall asleep in such an impossibly uncomfortable position. I smiled a little, kind of gratified that he would stay with me so vigilantly, yet sad too because from what I understood he seemed to be doing this out of some misguided sense of guilt. Which, understandably negated some of my good-will towards him.

Still, it seemed a little ungrateful to just let him give himself a neck injury after everything he'd been through for me. I didn't want to wake him up. He seemed so peaceful, just sleeping there. He was actually pouting. I shook my head in amusement. So much for Mr. Ruthless Businessman.

With great difficulty and growing frustration I levered myself off the bed and swung my leg over the edge. More difficult than it sounds.

I never realized how much I actually relied on that leg for balance.

Steadying myself I set my foot on the ground and took my hands off the bed. Bad idea, I admit, but I claim temporary insanity. I ended up face-planting myself on the floor. I scrunched my eyes closed. Shit, that hurt like a bitch. It felt like I'd broken everything all over again. Kyoya's eyes shot open and he was off the chair and kneeling beside me practically before I'd had time to register what was happening.

"Melinda! What the hell are you trying to do?" He exclaimed. I groaned, no response immediately coming to mind. He checked me methodically, running his hands lightly over my leg, knee and ribs before finally examining my head gently with the tips of his fingers. I stayed still and let him get it over with.

"You seem to be none the worse for wear." He decided finally. Looking somewhere over my shoulder. Not in my eyes. Never in my eyes.

I'd decided that the only possible reason Kyoya was behaving that way was because he was disgusted by me. His eyes were carefully blank, betraying nothing. I'd never realized how sensitive I was to body language. Or perhaps not everybody's body language. Perhaps… just his.

"Everything seems to be in the right place." I propped myself up on my elbows and groaned. "Mostly." I amended. "It kind of feels like my brain's trying to force itself out of my head. But other than that it's all good."

"Good to know." He seemed to be trying not to smile. He yawned, displaying just how tired he was. I made no effort to move, just staring at him from my uncomfortable place on the floor. I debated internally whether to loudly vocalize my displeasure at the current situation or address Kyoya on his about something inane before my mouth decided it for me. Helpfully, it did so before my brain could slip back into place.

"Am I really so terrible to look at?" I asked quietly, vulnerably. He only glanced up, barely inclining his head.

"What?" He asked tiredly.

I closed my eyes in self-deprecating amusement. "I'm merely referring to the fact that you don't seem capable of keeping eye-contact for more than two seconds. I haven't had much of a chance to examine myself in great detail, but have I changed that much? Am I sickening to look at?"

"Are you honestly asking me if you're ugly?" He deadpanned. "Because if so then I can assure you that you have better things to worry about."

"Of course I do." I said, opening my eyes. "But I'm not thinking about them right now. I'm more worried about the fact that my… best friend doesn't seem capable of having a normal conversation with me."

He seemed somewhat stumped by that. "Best friend?" He asked.

"Yes." I said bluntly. "Oh, don't worry you aren't required to say it back. I know you and Tamaki have that whole 'shonen-ai' thing going for you, and far be it for me to contravene." I added, some of my old fire coming back.

"I am never letting you near anime ever again." Kyoya muttered darkly, running a hand through his hair.

"Just try and stop me." I smiled weakly. "And I'm not likely to forget that you're dodging the question." I said meaningfully. He looked at me for a long moment.

"Does it really matter what I, or anybody else thinks? You're safe and alive, and all things considered things could have been far worse."

"How?" I asked. Honestly confused. It had seemed pretty bad to me at the time. Kyoya looked away, a pained look on his face.

"...I'm sorry Melinda." He said eventually. "I didn't know he… can you ever forgive me?" He asked quietly.

I stared, stunned. So that's what had been wrong? He thought that… that I..? "What?" I asked, blinking in confusion. My head started to throb painfully but I ignored it.

"I realize that even in spite of all this, you're a good person. You're trying to make it easier on me and I appreciate that. But you don't have to resort to calling me your 'best friend'. If you're angry," he swallowed. "I understand."

"No you don't." I said quietly. He winced.

"Yes I know but-"

"No Kyoya, I mean you honestly don't have a clue, do you?" I interrupted. "You think I'm… that I'm mad at you? That I blame you for this?" I asked incredulously.

"I do." He was staring out of the window at the cool evening. Crickets and cicadas chirped under my window sill. It was a quiet night.

"For someone so intelligent… you're dense sometimes." I forced myself to lower my voice.

Yelling wouldn't help things, no matter how much I wanted to drill it into his head that he was stupid, and there was really no way in hell I could blame him for this. I was beginning to really hate this 'love' stuff. I'd have thought that note would have been sufficient to assure him of how neatly he had me wrapped around his little finger. Even now, he may as well have hung the moon in the sky, I'd have still looked at him with the same disgusting adoration. Was that the word? Well it didn't matter I supposed.

Apparently he was more dense than I'd anticipated.

"I could never blame you for this." I said slowly, trying to make sure he understood. "I don't know if you were there or not, but Kyoya you saved me. If it weren't for you there wouldn't have been enough of me left to save."

He looked at me sharply. "Did you hear the police report at all?"

"That he admitted that he'd intended to rape and kill me?" I asked. "It was kind of hard to miss when he was shouting it around in the courtroom for the whole bloody world to hear."

Kyoya sighed and rubbed his face, tired. "Why are you treating this so flippantly? Is this a joke to you?" He demanded. "If Nekozawa hadn't decided to run around the school that night…"

"Then what?" I asked him. "He was there. He found me and now I'm here. You can't play 'what if' Kyoya." I said gently.

"I beg to differ." He said stubbornly. "I should've gone through every eventuality before now."

"So you're actually blaming yourself?" I asked incredulously. "For something that your brother did?"

He froze, eyes locked on mine. "Exactly, Melinda. My brother."

I took a breath and calmed myself. There was no point in getting angry, I told myself. Even when he had absolutely no right to go blaming himself over something like this. No right at all. I hate stubborn people, I really do. They always think they're right and it would take something short of the invention of 'memory erasers' to get Kyoya to relent on this one. I could see that.

"You can't atone for your brother's sins." I told him.

"No." He agreed, looking down. "But I can try to make them right." I 'tsked' in frustration. He just wasn't getting it. Fine, he wanted me to be blunt? I could do blunt.

"Could you lean down a little?" I asked innocently and held out my hand. He bent to take it, and I didn't really think. I pulled him down towards me turned my head, and found his lips.

Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was trying to initiate a make-out session right there on the hospital floor. I don't know what I was doing, there wasn't much actual thought involved in the decision making process. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It... felt like it too. I gently brushed his lips with my own, let them linger, then pulled away to see his shocked expression. My face flushed, my cheeks burning as though someone had turned on a furnace.

"Frankly Kyoya I don't think you can make it better, I just want you to be there. No more guilt." I blushed and looked down. Utilizing the shocked silence I'd been provided with. "And you're right, I don't care what 'anybody else' thinks, but I do care what you think." I said sincerely, biting my lip. He blinked at me but recovered far quicker than I could have expected, a faint tinge coloring his own cheeks. Don't suddenly tell him you love him. You'll probably scare him off and anyway, it would be rather redundant. "I care what you think a great deal." I admitted quietly.

And then he did, he looked at me. His eyes were ringed with dark bags, the by-product of too little sleep. But something in me sang because the look in his eye hadn't really changed. Still somewhat guarded and aloof, but with a warm quality that I'd mourned the absence of without knowing. He really was beautiful, with his hair shining about seven different shades of black and blue.

He offered me his hand again and I took it. "You'll never get out of here if you don't look after yourself properly." He admonished. "That means no more launching yourself off the bed like a demented rabbit." He smiled. A beatific expression that had the butterfly circus in my stomach doing cartwheels. "And no more talk of how attractive I do or don't find you. I will not tolerate heavy emotional probing when I can't even remember which way is up." He bit his lip and looked away. I blinked. That was... promising.

He practically picked me up and put me back on the bed with surprising ease. I worked my way under the covers again with great difficulty. Neither of us was quite aware of our surroundings and I had to constantly fight the urge to touch my lips with the tips of my fingers. A tad obvious wouldn't you agree?

"Sleep, we're going home tomorrow." He coughed, clearing his throat.

Home. Now that sounded very nice.

"Yes sir." I rested my head on the pillow, feeling a little like someone had filled me with helium and I was about to fly away. "But only if I get a bedtime story."

He blinked, but didn't comment. I suppose he was having trouble focusing on the conversation as well. I reveled in the thought. "Did you have anything in mind?" He sighed. Looking at me indulgently with his hands in his pockets and his face unreadable.

"How about the one where the girl acts stupid and has an argument with her fiancé but she's very sorry and she'll try harder to not be a total douche in future?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me speculatively, and then sat down on the bed beside me. Then took my hand in his, looking at me, giving me enough opportunity to shake him off. I didn't. "Really? I must have heard a different one then. The way I remember it, the girl's fiancé was a stressed, aloof bastard who acted like a jerk and hopes she can forgive him a moment of immaturity." He looked at me.

I smiled. "Well, they sound perfect for each other."

Melinda didn't even try and pretend she was okay. She didn't understand why she had to go to court and testify for a case that any court of law could see was open and shut. The thing was taped for fuck's sake. Caught on camera.

Excuse the French, but this was bullshit.

The room was small and crowded and outside she didn't want to think about the sea of paparazzi that was waiting for them. It wasn't something that could be handled simply with a 'no comment' and a pair of dark glasses. Nekozawa was sitting with her father, generally looking as uncomfortable as she was in a dark suit, sans puppet. He'd been forced to forgo the long robe. Something about a dress code.

She drew a shaky breath, palms sweating profusely. She didn't know what to say. She didn't think she could say anything to such a large audience. Tears pricked her eyelids. She wanted to go home.

Nobody else had been allowed inside the actual court-room. Only the people involved, and a few dozen news reporters who were broadcasting everything live. You learned not to pay much attention to those things though. They sort of became background noise.

The judge was a woman who wouldn't look her directly in the eye, preferring to stare at whatever documents she had on her desk. Jirou was sitting with the defense attorney looking every inch the honorable slighted businessman… except he was an honorable, slighted businessman with possible brain damage. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and was staring at her with venom in his eyes. Her heart sped up.

She couldn't look at him. Instead she looked at Kyoya, sitting in almost the exact same pose. Except when he caught her eye, he leaned forward and nodded slightly. Encouraging her to finish. Everyone was there. Tamaki and Haruhi, the twins, Honey and Mori, her father. Even, surprisingly enough, Mr. Ootori.

"What happened next Miss Redmond?"

She swallowed. "T-then he took his knife and cut open my shirt and bra and tried to touch me." Her lawyer looked triumphantly at the defense attorney. Not that there was any doubt as to who was going to win this case. She refused to cry. She could get through this, she had to. She adjusted her seat in the wheelchair and tried to speak around the lump forming in her throat. She trained her eyes on Kyoya, and reminded herself of the importance of breathing.

Two Weeks Later... At School

"Whoever invented stairs deserves to be shot." I decided, breathing heavily as I settled myself on one of the sinfully comfortable chairs in the Host Club. "That, or you seriously need to invest in an elevator."

"I'll make a note of it." Kyoya said drily. I looked up and smiled.

"And while you're at it, make a note of the fact that it's not fair to force the cripple to work for three hours on a school day, you slave driver."

"I apologize, however it's rather difficult finding errands less tasking than simply answering a phone." He deadpanned. "I will endeavor to do better."

"You do that."

Hikaru blinked at us owlishly, followed closely by his twin. "Oi, are you two…"

"… Flirting?"

"Save it for the clients Senpai." Hikaru said sternly.

I blushed and fought the urge to hide my face in my hands. I couldn't simply have a moment of peace to myself could I? Kyoya merely looked mildly irritated.

"Would you go away if I said please?" I begged.

"Now, now Mel-kun. That's not very nice, ne?"

"Not very nice at all. We're only trying to make you feel welcome."

Bit late there boys. Hikaru looked at me out of the corner of his eye, an apologetic glance he'd been giving me a lot lately. I think that was his way of saying he was wrong about it. I always smiled and received it as graciously as I could. God knows I wasn't going to get an actual apology.

"As the first Official Girlfriend of the Host Club-"

"Whoa, stop right there." I held up my hands and arched a single eyebrow. After hours under Kyoya's expert tutelage I was now cynically raising brows left and right with the best of them. "Since when did I get a title?"

"Since you're one of us Mel-kun." Honey said sweetly, sitting on the floor beside me and resting his head in my lap. I stroked his blond curls back from his face. "Don't you like it?"

"Well," I sighed. "I appreciate the sentiment, but surely you could do better than that."

"You don't like it?" Hikaru pouted.

"We spent ages on it." Kaoru joined, looking just as pathetic.

"You're clever. You'll figure something out." I refused to give in.

Especially considering I wasn't even actually his girlfriend. Not by a long shot. When we'd left the hospital it was like that conversation had just been a realistic dream. But I was certain it had happened. I didn't want to entertain the notion that I'd dreamed it or that he was choosing to forget because it had taken a heck of a lot of courage to kiss him in the first place. From time to time, there were moments, when I thought I could see what he thought of me so clearly. When I thought his eyes carried something of his emotional depth.

Then he'd tell me something mundane about the Host Club, or school or something and… the moment would be gone just like that. It was immensely frustrating.

"Mel-kun, does this still hurt?" Honey stared at my prosthetic with childish interest. I looked at it. You know, apart from the fact that I couldn't feel anything in it, I could almost fool myself into believing it was the real deal too.

"Sometimes when I walk. But it's getting better." I twisted it this way and that. It really was done very well. The best that money could buy. Kyoya's money in fact. Wouldn't let me or Dad pay for some reason. "It looks pretty real doesn't it?"

Suddenly everyone was crowded around it, staring at it like it was a strange and rare species.

Hikaru poked it with his index finger. "It feels weird. Mel, did it hurt when they sawed off your leg?"

Tamki's face went pure white. Haruhi glanced at him anxiously, saw he was fine, then shrugged and looked away. I caught her eye and shared a brief knowing smile with her.

"I don't know." I deadpanned. "Considering how I was unconscious and everything. But yes, I do imagine it would hurt quite a bit. Definitely a 'don't try this at home' kind of thing."

"Did you keep the rest of your leg?" Kaoru asked enthusiastically. I resisted the urge to project vomit all over his pristine, designer uniform. Yes, designer. Only in Ouran.

"No." I said firmly. He frowned.

"Well then what do they do with-"

"Enough." Kyoya interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go, get into your costumes, you have five minutes until everybody arrives."

"Ooh, cranky." Hikaru muttered.

"Relationship issues. He's quite emotionally stunted." Kaoru said wisely. I watched a vein throb in Kyoya's forehead ominously.

"Ah." Hikaru nodded, enlightened. Then turned to face Kyoya seriously. "Now just remember, she was mine first and I can still call dibs whenever I want."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered.

Hikaru just smirked and threw a long arm around my shoulders. "Don't act like you don't know. We had something special." His face was way too close to mine. This was not even vaguely comfortable. "Remember, you, me, Valentine's day, a chocolate swan..." He looked off somewhere in the distance, lost in a happy memory. "I wouldn't mind more of those by the way." He said thoughtfully.

"Your legs function much better than mine. Go buy some yourself."

"But you're my Cu-u-pid!" He whined in my ear. "It's not the same!" Yeah, my hearing would never be the same either. I winced at the volume and resigned myself to going deaf prematurely, i.e before I'm forty.

Kyoya looked irritated. "Hikaru, Kaoru. Go. Now."

The twins looked at him, unimpressed. "Sure, let's leave the couple alone Kaoru. Kyoya's getting jealous." Hikaru smirked, sauntering away before Kyoya could hurt him. "Enjoy the ball and chain, Mother."

Kyoya really does deserve an award for surviving three years with those two without committing murder or manslaughter or whatever.

Everyone scattered immediately, a wailing Tamaki searching frantically for his eye-drops- 'how else will I be able to properly portray the anguish of my soul'- and running to claim a changing room lest he be stuck changing in the en-suite.

Then there were two.

Kyoya cleared his throat in embarrassment, apparently realizing he'd just effectively got us alone. I thanked God for his brilliance. Or stupidity. Whichever.

"Kyoya, do you have some time?" I started hesitantly. How exactly does one go about wooing ones unattainably aloof fiancé?

He looked up from his clipboard, a vertical black line forming between his brows. My bottom lip disappeared into my mouth. "What's wrong?" He asked.

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing's wrong… I just wanted to talk to you?"

He looked at me like I'd grown another head. "I was under the impression that we were talking." I was stumped for a long moment until I realized he was only joking and attempted to throw a pillow at him. He stepped to the side and looked at it.

"Your aim really sucks." He informed me.

"No, really?" I gasped. He looked at me.

"And sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"Aim and sarcasm. Got it." I smiled. "You want to let me say something now?"

"By all means." He gestured.

"Um…" I twisted my fingers in my lap. Damn, but this was hard. I wanted to do it, had planned on doing it for such a long time. And what's the worst he could do, reject me? I was still going to be his wife for goodness' sake. You know, sometime in the far future. Very, very far.

I'm talking 'light-years and galaxies' stuff.

I took a deep breath and very pointedly did not look at him.

"I got these tickets, to the Opera on Saturday. And I don't really like Opera that much, but I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" Come on, say it. Just say it. "Like a… like a date." I finished softly.

He was quiet for long enough for me to have doubts. Long enough for me to start to fantasize about braining myself on the edge of the coffee table in front of us to see if it could work as a memory eraser. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. Shit…

"I'm sure we can work something out." He said coolly, the epitome of calm and controlled. "Saturday did you say?"

"Yeah, around eight o' clock?" I bit my lip, deliriously happy and almost about to float away. "We can maybe have dinner after? Or we can have dinner before if you like. Or we could just skip dinner altogether- I don't mind I just- I think I'll stop talking now." I bit my lip, face becoming uncomfortably hot.

He smiled at me with his eyes, dark and shining behind the glare of his glasses. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose with one slender finger and wrote something down in his clipboard.

"Dinner and a show it is then." He said, and went to welcome the first guests.

I sat there in a state of catatonic shock. Oh my God. I actually did it.

And he said yes.

I asked him out on a date.

And he said yes.

My only regret was that I didn't have the freedom to express my fanatic happiness by dancing spastically around the room. That would be just a tad unseemly. Just a tad.

Dizzy with crazy euphoria I melted in my own happiness for a moment, marveling at the fact I'd managed to make any of that make sense. But I'd done it, and now I had a date- an actual date- with Kyoya. Perhaps a little late in coming- as I understand, usually people tend to do the whole dating thing before hearing wedding bells. That is, 'normal' people wait. Ouran students? We'd never been much the same as ordinary people.

I smiled to myself and snuck a glance at him out of my peripherals. It was early days yet, perhaps too early to tell. But I thought we'd be fine.

Now I just needed to get tickets for the Opera and pray there was one in town and actually showing on Saturday night. Movie, that's what I'd meant to say. 'Movie'. And that somehow translated into 'Opera'?

Please God, let there be an Opera somewhere in Tokyo.

THE END