�Ladies and gentlemen,� Youji�s voice carries over the din in the hotel banquet room. It gets quiet almost instantly. �I�d like to present Mr. and Mrs. Tsukiyono Omi!�

With the announcement, Omi leads Aya through the double doors leading into the large room, bright smiles lighting both of their faces. I can�t help but gawk at my little sister; their wedding ceremony had been a western style one with Aya in a long, simple, white dress. Now she appears in a stylish, probably more comfortable white dress with subtle red flowers. She has grown into a gorgeous woman, shades of our mother in her features.

I slip further back into the shadows as my sister and new brother in law proceed through the room to waves of applause. Youji waits for them at the head table, slightly glowing himself, decked out in a tux befitting his role as best man and guardian of the bride. I lurk against the wall, staying as concealed as possible as the festivities progress.

Aya believes I am dead. After the mission that left me with a permanent limp, I asked Omi and Youji to tell her I had died. She didn�t, still doesn�t, need the burden of looking after me, of worrying about me. So Omi and I weaved a cover and Youji, distraught even at the possibility, had accepted Omi�s invitation to move in with him and Aya. His home had more than enough room. I haven�t been able to totally remove myself from my sister�s life. My shop and flat aren�t all that far from the three people I consider my family, but only Youji and Omi know that. Despite my limp, I am still able to sneak in and out of places undetected, places like the trauma ward at the Magic Bus where she is a nurse, or into her wedding ceremony and reception.

Youji knows I�m here, of course. He tried to convince me to give up the ruse after nearly eight years. He all but begged me to openly attend Aya�s wedding to Omi, asking me to take my rightful place as Aya�s guardian and give her away in marriage and relieve Youji of that task.

It never occurred to me how it must ache for Youji to pretend I am dead when he is around my sister as her legal guardian (though she is well past the age of requiring one by law), and as my lover. How he must hurt inside to not be able to tell her of the prize I had won at a local ikebana contest, to not be able to share a night together in his room. I�m sure he talks with Omi; the Chief of Police is one of my regular customers.

I watch as Omi leads my baby sister around the room, greeting their guests, cheerfully accepting compliments on the decorations, the ceremony, the cut of Aya�s dress. Omi looks happy, really and truly, and Aya is glowing.

I know Omi misses the days when we all lived and worked together. He keeps a photo on his desk, from years ago. We�d gone out to the beach for the day. Ken on his motorcycle, Omi on his scooter and Youji and I riding in 7 with the top down. It had been a wonderful day of just being friends, no mission looming over our heads, no watchers lurking around to hand out the next mission, nothing but the four of us enjoying each other�s company in the sun. We spent the whole day wandering the pier, shopping, eating, lounging around. Omi had brought his camera along and snapped pictures all afternoon. It was nearing dusk and we were all pleasantly weary, already arguing about what movie we would watch and what toppings we wanted on the pizza when we got home. Ken and Omi had been walking their respective bikes back to where Youji had parked his car and Omi had asked a passerby to use the final shot on the roll for a group photo. Youji had hopped up behind Omi on the scooter and I propped myself up against Ken�s pride and joy and let him drape a companionable arm around my neck.

I have a copy of the photo somewhere, and it bothers me that I can�t remember where it is at the moment. Omi�s does a constant duet with his picture of Aya, the two rotating throughout the day for the front position on his desk. Youji carries his in his wallet. It�s crumpled and the edges are chewed from wear, but he carries it with him.

My hair isn�t as red as it was when that photo was taken. I�ve been dying it for the last several years. I know Youji was sad to see it go, but despite the fact that I have nothing to fear with Omi as chief of police, there are still people out there who remember Weiss, and for the short time after it, the redheaded assassin known only as Abyssinian . It was for those reasons that I decided it was time to make that final sacrifice. The red isn�t completely gone, just toned down with a more acceptable blend of brown. To add to my cover as a quiet florist, I gave up my contact lenses in favor of black plastic glasses. Youji says they make me look �scholarly�. He�s been after me to grow my hair out in recent months, but I keep resisting. Maybe once I can stop dying it.

I lurk around a column set back in shadow as Aya and Omi approach their table. Youji greets Omi with a solemn handshake that turns into a tight hug and even at a distance I can see the sparkle of mischief lurking in Youji�s eyes. True to form, Omi blushes as red as the small flowers on Aya�s dress at whatever words Youji whispered into his ear. With a wink, my lover pulls my sister to him, lightly kissing her cheek and squirming away when Aya jabs him in the ribs in retaliation for whatever he said to Omi. Waiters bring around bottles of champagne and fill every glass while everyone settles and finishes up their conversations.

Omi takes a seat to Aya�s left; Youji pulls out the chair to her right but doesn�t sit, instead picking up his champagne flute and raising it, the guests eventually falling silent as they notice him patiently waiting. His grin hasn�t faded a bit, the sparkle not diminishing in his green eyes.

�Thank you all for coming,� Youji starts. �And I know we�re all thinking the same thing � �took them long enough!�.�

Everyone laughs, even Aya and Omi, sitting close together, looking up at Youji as he continues.

�But seriously,� Youji says. �It has been a great pleasure of mine to watch the two of you meet and fall in love, even if it did take you forever to get together.� He winks down at the two of them, secrets of the family probably dancing through all their heads as they surface in mine. �Omittchi, you�re the brother I never had. Aya-chan � the circumstances that brought us together weren�t fortunate, but I love you all the more for it.� Youji raises his glass higher. �To Omi and Aya � may your future be bright and prosperous, full of health and happiness.�

The crowd clapped and drank along with him as he took his seat, Aya�s hand covering his for a brief moment as Omi stood, fingering his own glass as he waited for quiet once more.

�I want to thank you all,� Omi says in his quiet voice, that although soft, carries easily through the hall, �for being here on one of the happiest days of my life.� He smiles down at Aya before turning his attention back on his guests. �It�s been ten years since we first met, and it�s been a long road, but we never let each other go,� Omi�s gaze drifts down while he speaks until he has eyes only for my sister.

�To love,� he says softly. �To finding it and holding it tight, and never letting it go.�

�To love!� the guests chorus, and drink down their champagne, a clamor of cheers going up as Aya stands and locks lips with Omi.

My gaze drifts over to Youji, still smiling, though looking as if it�s a little forced.

Why can�t I just let it go, I ask myself again as I observe Youji trying to hide his hurt at Omi�s words. He�s had to let me go, after a fashion. He can�t have me in his life the way he wants to, has to hide our relationship from the others that we love. Why can�t I just stop?

Waiters are bringing around dinner, now, and conversation has resumed at the tables between bites of salad and bread before the next course gets brought out. I sneak around the wall, blending with the shadows, moving slowly so as to not draw attention to myself. I creep closer to the main table, my longing to be nearer to those I love overriding my more common sense to linger farther back.

�I wish Ran was here,� I hear Aya say softly.

�He is here, sweetheart,� Youji replies and I freeze, for a brief instant thinking that he was going to point me out, lurking along the shadows of the alcove. �As long as we keep him in our hearts, he will be here.�

I let out a breath I hadn�t known I was holding as Aya gave my lover a watery smile. �You really loved him, didn�t you, Youji.�

�Yeah, Aya,� I have to read his lips, so quiet was his reply. �I still do.�

My heart goes out to this man, who had saved my life on more than one occasion, and who shares my bed on a regular basis. The man who loves me with all his heart and would even tell my sister I was dead, because I asked him to. I almost step forward at that moment, leaving my concealment behind to go to Youji, but I stop. It wouldn�t be right, not here, not today. This was Aya-chan�s day, Omi�s day. Revealing myself to them now would only draw attention away from what should be the happiest day of their lives.

I have worked most of my adult life for this moment. Since Aya�s sixteenth birthday, I have done everything in my life for her. And I am proud and happy for her, yet at the same time, it feels like an empty victory. I can�t help but ask myself if it was worth it, the years of killing, the blood staining my hands. Every cloud has it�s silver lining and all that, but my life at times seems to have been one big storm cloud, always threatening to break open and drown the lives dependant on me. This silver lining has been paid for with blood money, and because of that, I�m not sure how bright the moment is, despite how badly I�ve wanted it.

But I have worked for this moment, for Aya-chan to have a life of her own. Our parents left modest sums in savings, and I confess, I used most of those to get by in the initial months following their deaths. The money my parents left us bought my katana, the use of which provided for Aya�s future. The education trust I�d set up has already been used, sending Aya to France and nursing school, just like she�d always talked about. The wedding fund has already been raided, though Youji had told me he questioned the need of three different outfits for the day. There are other trusts, for her and her children, as she�ll learn in the near future. Though, with Omi as the semi-legitimate heir to what remains of the Takatori legacy, I�m sure she�ll not need them.

I have to admit, as I watch Omi settle in next to my sister, that the match wasn�t one I had anticipated. If Ken had been alive, I could have seen that connection. But Ken�s been dead for more years than I have, killed by his former teammates when he went rogue. It�s hard to believe it�s been almost ten years since his death was ordered. It wasn�t too long after that mission that Kritiker let us return to Tokyo, I was briefly reunited with my sister, formally introduced her to Omi and Youji, Youji in particular already thinking of her as his own little sister.

Omi finished up his education in preparation for entering University and Youji and I were quite content to man the shop in an all too short retirement before Kritiker demanded our services again. It was that next mission that left me with a permanent limp and asking Youji and Omi to look after my baby sister.

Aya had been in France at the time, having breezed through the testing that would let her qualify for entrance into the nursing academy without finishing her high school education. Youji had gone, albeit reluctantly, to see her in person while I recovered in the hospital. He was angry with me when he returned; he refused to talk to me for three days.

�I�ll be back in a few,� I hear Youji say as he rises from his place at the main table. Aya makes a face. �You need to stop smoking, Yotan.�

I can�t help but smile. Maybe she will succeed where I have failed. But then, it�s hard to convince someone to stop smoking when you occasionally steal smokes from his pack when you think he�s not looking.

�Someday, kiddo,� Youji agrees with a wink. �But not today.�

I watch from my hiding place as Youji weaves his way through the banquet hall, nodding his replies to the comments of his guests. After a few moments, I begin to follow, sliding against the wall, blending with the shadows.

I had used the service entrance in the alley to get into the hotel earlier; I sneak out that way again, pausing in the clean alley to tug my coat tighter around me and ward off the winter chill. I step around the corner, blending with the people on the street, a lot of visiting gaijin on their winter holidays.

Youji leans against the wall of the hotel, casually smoking a cigarette as the crowds of shoppers smoothly pass by, paying us no attention. �You should have a coat on,� I say softly, propping myself up against the wall next to him.

He snorts, blowing a puff of smoke out his nostrils. �What on earth possessed your sister to have a winter wedding?�

I shrug, huddling down into my coat. �It�s always been her favorite time of year.� Not mine, never mine. I can never seem to keep warm in the winter. Especially that one in Germany, though my time there was thankfully short.

An arm snakes around my waist, tugging me closer. Youji looks good in his tux, the coat and pants well cut around his slim form. �You should be inside, babe,� he says softly around his cig.

I begin to protest, to say that I am there, but he continues. �Ran, *you* should be there. Stop hiding, love. You�re mostly retired, Aya�s safe now � no one is going to hurt her, not with Omi around. And all you have to do is say the word and I�ll get the chibi to let you retire for real, or at least get you out of the field.�

That is the only remaining tension between us now. Youji had long ago been taken of the �active� roster for Kritiker, instead working for Omi as Manx once worked for �our� Persia. After my injury, while Kritiker was still in the process of being rebuilt as Omi wanted it to be, I went more or less freelance, with Persia�s blessing. But eventually, the organization grew stable, and Omi pulled my reins in.

I do select jobs now, and I�m free to refuse them, though I rarely do. Youji brings me missions that Omi thinks I am uniquely qualified for, with my experience and training. Jobs that are too important for a team, or impossible for more than one man to complete without detection. I've been in and out of Europe over the last eight years, performing surgical strikes against the remains of Estet, and setting up meetings with Omi's elusive contacts. Every time he brings me one of those missions, Youji begs me to consider giving it up, to move into a position in the office or retire and become a full time florist. The idea is tempting, but I�m not sure I can give up the life I�ve led for so long.

�Not today, Youji,� I say softly, leaning into his half embrace. �Today is for them.�

�Hn,� he replies.

He doesn�t know it, but I�ve started crafting a story that will let me appear as Ran in his life, in Aya�s life. I�ll fill him in eventually, so he�ll be prepared when Aya turns on him. I know my imouto, - she�ll be beyond pissed that we didn�t trust her with the knowledge of whatever secret mission I concoct for my having to fake my death. Maybe then I�ll ask Omi to let me go. I�ve been I the killing game for nearly fifteen years. I feel so much older than 33.

I know Youji must feel the same. He�s only a couple years older than me, and his sunglasses have given way to a pair of chic frameless lenses that hold the prescription he�d hidden for so long behind the cloak of vanity. His once honey-blonde hair is growing darker, except at the temples where he�s starting to show hints of gray. I dye my hair now to hide; he no longer has to. Youji�s metabolism hasn�t caught up with him, though. He�s still thin and lanky, his ribs practically visible when he has no clothes on.

�Soon, Youji,� I say softly. I know he has heard me, but he doesn�t respond. He doesn�t need to. I know he understands, no matter how hard it is for him to have to keep up the image that I am dead.

�I should go back,� he says, cigarette ground out on the wall and dropped into the wastebasket. �Are you staying?�

�For awhile,� I say. Long enough to watch Aya open the gift I had Youji place on the table for me. But I would slip out long before the party was over. �Will you come over tonight?� I ask, almost shyly.

�Are you kidding?� he smirks a patented Youji grin. �You think I want to be anywhere near that house on their wedding night? They�re not leaving on their honeymoon for a week and they�re loud enough when -�

�Kudou, that�s my imouto you�re talking about,� I growl, but I feel a smile playing at my lips. This is my Youji, the playful man of years ago, who makes rarer appearances now. Or maybe it�s just that we�re not together as much for me to see it, and he tries so hard not to show how much it must hurt to have to hide.

He winks at me, the grin fading to a soft smile. �Of course I�ll be there, babe.� He presses a quick kiss to the top of my head. �I have to get back,� he apologizes.

�I know,� I lean against him for a brief moment before we shift away from each other.

�I�ll see you later.� Youji�s jacket brushes against my coat as he ducks back inside the hotel.

I linger for awhile, trying not to shiver. I watch the happy people stream by me, oblivious to me. I feel so removed from the world; I haven�t been a part of it for so long. Oh, sure, Youji and I go out occasionally, to places we know we won�t run into Aya or Omi, or anyone else who used to know us. But how long has it been since I�ve been able to walk openly on the street, for Youji and I to just go out to dinner without worries of being seen?

How long has it been since Youji�s been truly happy?

That thought sticks with me as I make my way back around to the service entrance, creeping back into the banquet room.

The party is in full swing I observe as I resume my place in the shadows. Aya has found her way to the group of girlfriends she has cultivated over the years, and Omi is mingling with people who are probably more interested in talking business than discussing the wedding. Omi looks over his shoulder ever few minutes to catch Aya�s gaze, before refocusing on the conversation in front of him.

I know it�s hard on Omi, to have to lie to his lover. Aya knows certain truths; she couldn�t marry Persia and not know some of his history. She knows that we were all involved in something covert, but we have all tried to spare her as many details as possible, to protect us all. She knows that I wore her name while she was sleeping, and that I went back to being �Ran,� as soon as I knew she was awake and well. And despite how close they have grown, and how often he and I still talk, Omi has honored my request and led Aya to believe I am dead. Ironic then, if my sister were to find out what florist it was that put together the arrangements for her wedding and reception. For all that lying has to hurt, Omi has never asked me to break my cover. I think, that after meeting, parting with, being reunited and falling in love with my sister, he understands why I feel like I can�t be a part of her life. He knows what a heartbreaking experience it would be to knowing cause harm to that bright presence in his life. We are a lot alike, Omi and I.

But he was proper about the whole thing. I smile as he steers the conversation toward the story of the first time they met after Aya had returned to Tokyo, while Youji is gathering all the gifts together for Aya to open in front of her guests. The chibi came to me one evening, as I was closing up shop, and formally asked my permission to marry my sister. Youji had told me of their courtship, and Omi had not kept it secret from me, knowing that was the one thing he could do to incur my wrath. I love Omi as a brother and would never harm him � unless he hurt my sister. I could not deny him what he sought. I gave my permission, as if I had any right to it, but he honored me nonetheless, and then his face broke into that wide grin that I had never been able to deny before and asked me on the spot to do the flowers.

There are a few girls in the neighborhood who work for me part time, and I needed their help while putting together all the flowers for this event. The last time I did anything of this magnitude was when we all worked together in the Koneko no Sumu Ie. Most of the time the girls run the till and do deliveries after school while I work on arrangements. They all think I�m a perfectionist at the best of times, and none of them knew the real reason I was so uptight about these flowers. They think that it�s because this was my first major job since they came to work for me.

But I couldn�t do anything less than perfect for my sister�s wedding. Even if Omi was getting the flowers for free. I couldn�t find it in myself to charge him, even though he insisted. I used the money he thrust at me to give bonuses to the girls for putting up with me. And Youji. I think they like that he flirts with them when he comes around. They know we�re together, and they humour him, and I think they enjoy the attention.

I�ve heard several comments about the arrangements throughout the afternoon, and Youji�s been handing out the name of my shop to anyone that made even the slightest remark. I have a feeling that I�m about to pick up a little more business. Not that I mind. I think I have developed a true passion for what started out as a passing interest as a teenager and a legitimate cover after hooking up with Kritiker.

�Here,� Youji passes over my box. I had asked him to leave it for last; I was worried it would ruin the mood of the party, and I didn�t want to do anything to spoil Aya�s day. The party is far from over, and I�m still concerned that the atmosphere may be contaminated by the spirit of my gift. Aya and Omi both love being surrounded by people, and I know they�ll party as late as they think they can get away with. I hold my breath as Aya lifts the cover off. She first extracts the layer of thin paper, placing it aside before withdrawing the cream colored envelope with her name written on it. She frowns slightly; this gift is for her alone, and Omi had told me it was okay.

I slowly exhale as my sister pulls the card from it�s confines. She reads aloud in a clear voice:

I had written the verse in myself, going through several blank cards before I was satisfied with the script. My daily use of computers has let my calligraphy skills atrophy somewhat.

�It�s not signed,� Aya-chan says softly, handing the card off to Omi.

My breath catches again as she pulls two dried flowers from their soft bed of paper. Omi and Youji�s eyes widen fractionally � they know the meaning behind both. A red rose and a white cattelya orchid. When were Weiss, my code flower was Rose and Youji�s was Cattelya. My name also translates to Orchid, and the rose is a symbol of love. The red and white together symbolize unity. I flubbed that a little � it should be a red and white rose � but I knew they would all understand.

I watch my sister turn to my lover, the stems trembling slightly in her hands. �Y-Youji?�

He gives her a broad smile and a nod, silently assuring her that what she probably suspects is true. My sister isn�t dumb � I�m sure she realized what I had intended her to see.

Buried beneath another layer of tissue paper are the keys to several bank deposit boxes containing the papers for the trusts I have established for her over the years. Besides my own meager living allowances, almost every penny I have earned has gone to her future.

Aya is close to tears now, Youji softly explaining the keys while Omi searches the room with his eyes. I meet his cornflower blue eyes when Persia finally finds who he is looking for. I hold his gaze for a brief moment, Omi nodding almost imperceptibly before turning his attention back to his new bride. Between Omi and Youji, Aya will be well cared for.

Why does it hurt so bad, when I�m the one that created the situation? Why, when I thought it would be best for my sister to believe I�m dead, does it suddenly hurt so much to not be a part of her life? Why, all of a sudden, do I feel like I can�t go on living this lie I created?

Youji has ducked out to smoke again, after getting Aya calmed down slightly and while the cake is being brought out and coffee is being served. I don�t follow him this time. Instead I continue to lurk in the shadows and watch.

And think.

They look so happy, when their eyes meet, its like no one else exists. Does Youji see me like that? Do I see him? We�ve been together for over ten years, and none of it has been easy. We both have our demons, and as Youji has said during our rare bouts of true fighting, I am a stubborn bastard and I let my fear keep me from life, from the life I should be able to enjoy.

He�s right and we both know it. In his more petulant moments, Youji thinks I have chosen the life I live now to keep us from being together. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I do love Youji, I want to spend my life with him.

But I don�t know how to let go of the fear that as soon as commit myself fully to him, he will be taken from me. Or I from him. It�s not really a rational fear, but then, what is a rational fear? We�re older now, Youji mostly out of the field and I could be with a word, but when you�ve lost as much as we have, it�s not something that�s easy to push aside. We�ve had to kill friends, lovers, even ourselves and our teammates. We�ve both seen so much pain and felt so much loss that I don�t think we can help running from our fear instead of meeting them head on.

I watch Omi and Aya talk softly, smiles on both of their faces. I don�t think I�ve ever told Youji I love him. I don�t think he�s ever said it to me. It doesn�t feel safe; it�s like we both understand that that�s the point of no return. As soon as one of us says those three little words, it�s over, the magic spell that has kept us mostly out of harms way for the last ten years will be broken, and all of our sins will finally be noticed, and what we have will be ruined.

Youji saunters back into the room. �Serve up the cake! Everyone�s favorite Kudou Youji is here!� The hall breaks into laughter. I know I love him. I hope he knows it. I�m pretty sure he loves me. I don�t need the words. It�s easier, without the words.

But is it, really? Has it been worth it, to keep that last final distance between us, when we�ve shared everything else? Is it only easier for me? Would Youji be happier, with the words? Can I say it? Can I make my lips form the letters of the words that have seemed to me for the last several years the ultimate of curses?

I shrug further into my gray overcoat, retreating deeper back into the shadows, slipping along the walls until I can blend with a group of American tourists mingling in the hotel lobby.

I turn and glance back into the room, feeling Youji�s eyes on me. I catch his gaze and he nods slightly before I slip off into the crowd.

It�s time to stop hiding in the shadows.