The sound of water lapping against the side of something nearby slid into Jaejoong’s awareness, giving him reason to open his aching, dry eyes.  Taking a deep breath was another matter entirely and he stopped halfway through the inhalation, hissing in pain, closing his eyes again and turning his face into the surface of his bed.  Eh?  What bed?!

                A wordless cry bubbled from his lips as he pushed himself up, wincing at the reminder of every bruise on his person, and all the new ones, while he looked around through one open eye.  Left hand pressed against his abdomen, he braced himself with his right and inspected his surroundings, blinking at the odd array of items in the room.  Post cards from various parts of the world plastered the walls while souvenirs and such littered most of the open spaces.  Poking one on the table nearest him showed it was taped or glued in place and the slight rocking sensation he experienced let him know that he was on some sort of boat.

                Taking care not to move too quickly, Jaejoong swung his legs over the side and rested his elbows on his knees, taking things nice and slow, letting the rest of him catch up to consciousness even as his mind struggled to pull the pieces together.  “Minnie?” he called his voice dry and raspy.  Fingers threaded through knotted hair, catching in the snags irritatingly before he gave up and just smoothed the frazzled strands back, pulling the hair tie out and letting it be.

                A glance down at his aching person showed that his white button up shirt was in place but his top jacket had been removed and panic filled him anew.  The contract!  “Tch!” he gasped when he spun around, looking for it in a motion that argued with him vehemently and left him briefly unable to breathe.  “Where is it?” he swallowed, fighting a new sort of nausea and fear while he lifted the covers and looked around in his immediate vicinity.  “No no no,” he panted, grabbing the top of his shirt with the trembling fingers of his right hand.  He couldn’t have lost them…  He just couldn’t have…  Not after everything he’d gone through.

                The possibility that Kyuhyun’s death and the horror that Taemin and Hyukjae went through was all for nothing overwhelmed Jaejoong.  Was everything he’d experienced meaningless?  A wave of nausea caught him before he could do anything else and a thin stream of bile burned its way up his throat, spewing the contents of his otherwise empty stomach on the wooden floor in a coughing gasp that immobilized him with agony.  Stuck in place, slumped between his legs and staring at the messy floor around his… bare feet, Jaejoong fought another feeling of nausea when his body detected the very gentle swaying of the boat.  He swallowed with some difficulty, the taste horrible, and tried to collect himself enough to look up when he heard the door open.

                “What’s goin on?” a new voice asked, curious visage peering into the room and reeling from the door as the smell of vomit punched him in the face.  “Ack!  Max…  You didn’t say he was sick,” the male grumbled, frowning at the mess and muttering under his breath.

                “He wasn’t,” Changmin responded, voice tight while he drew closer, the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor hard to pick up for his lack of shoes.  “Jae?” he asked softly, pressing around the stranger to peer in on Jaejoong’s limp and crumpled form.

                “Minnie?” Jaejoong coughed weakly, eyes burning while he mustered what strength he could to look up at the younger male.

                Breathing through his mouth, Changmin carefully stepped into the room and pulled Jaejoong up into a sitting position so he could help him lie back down, using extra care when he saw the elder male grimace in pain.  “Are you alright?” he asked, perching on the side of the bed as he accepted the hastily procured cloth from his host so he could dab at the messy remnants lingering on Jaejoong’s lips, his other hand resting on the thin shoulder.

                “My coat,” he gasped in response, focusing desperately on that single object to the point of ignoring everything else.

                “It’s in the other room,” Changmin assured him, tracing the tangled bangs off of his friend’s pale forehead, expression worried if slightly pained.  “Just rest,” he urged softly.

                “I need to see it,” he pleaded, grabbing Changmin’s wrist tightly, his grip stronger than usual in his desperation while he stared at the younger male intently.

                Changmin glanced at his slender fingers wrapped around his wrist, bottom lip caught between his teeth.  At last he nodded and looked back over his bare shoulder, “Zico.  Could you bring Jae his coat?”

                “It’s too warm for a jacket,” Zico responded in a grumpy tone, shuffling towards them anyway.  When he stepped inside enough to hand it off, Jaejoong caught a glimpse of a mess of hair, dirty blonde dreadlocks pulled back into a thick ponytail.  “I am not cleaning this up,” he scowled at Changmin, holding the jacket out, staying as far away from the mess as he could.

                “Thanks,” Changmin nodded without comment, handing it off to Jaejoong with a focused expression.

                With single-minded intensity, Jaejoong sifted through the inner pockets, fingers bunching into the satin-like fabric when they were empty.  It was gone…  Tears clouded his vision and ran down the sides of his eyes while he stared at the dark wood of the ceiling above him, throat closing, making it hard to breathe.  “It’s over.”

                “Hey,” Changmin denied gently, placing his hand on top of Jaejoong’s upper abdomen to draw his attention.  He was surprised when his companion winced at the contact and he blinked at his torso in confusion.  “It’s not over, Jae,” he reminded him, letting his hand drift in a careful, testing manner, his frown deepening when just about every touch showed him Jaejoong was hurting.  What had B done to him before he’d managed to retrieve him?

                “You don’t understand,” Jaejoong murmured in a toneless whisper, catching Changmin’s hand to hold it still.  He figured what he was doing but it hurt…  “They’ve got the contract.  Kyuhyun’s dead and I have nothing left…”

                Changmin twisted his hand so he could curl his fingers around Jaejoong’s clasping it gently.  “And?” he prompted evenly, no hint of malice or gest in his tone.  When those brown doe eyes focused on him, he felt his heart sink at Jaejoong’s despair.  “You’re still alive, Jae.  It’s not over unless you let it be.”

                “Let’s not forget he’s a fugitive now too,” Zico called in from the other room, listening in on their conversation shamelessly.

                “Zico!” Changmin snapped sharply, glaring over his shoulder at the partially open door before he reached out a long leg to kick it shut the rest of the way, gaining a modicum of privacy.  When he looked back, it was impossible to miss the question in Jaejoong’s eyes.  “A warrant has been put out for your arrest.  For the suspected murder of Cho Kyuhyun,” he explained as evenly as he could, keeping his hand on Jaejoong’s supportively.

                Numbly, Jaejoong just blinked at him, feeling the carpet pulled out from under his feet with no warning whatsoever.  He took several shallow breaths while he reasoned through it, letting his mind work since his body was physically unable to react without pain.

                It made sense, of course.  If they hadn’t been able to find enough evidence to connect B-Bomb to Kyuhyun’s death, he was the next likely culprit.  He’d been staying in the hotel room Kyuhyun had been murdered in under a false name.  The fact that he was a private investigator would not hold up to offer him any sort of protection because even the best law enforcement agents could be turned or bribed.  His purpose in investigating the top three companies with suspected bad dealings would be reason enough to connect him to Kyuhyun in such a way that perhaps he had been trying to shut him up.  Maybe he’d left a voicemail or even that damn text message that could have told him more, but right then it didn’t matter.

                Even if he did go back to the police, they’d hold him for questioning and would keep him locked up until his innocence could be proven.  Since he’d lost the contract, whoever had it was likely to want to keep him locked up so he couldn’t follow any leads or would simply just try to have him killed outright to make sure he didn’t talk.  Innocent or not, he couldn’t turn himself in.  And even without the documents, he was just as much of a target now because of what he did know so he couldn’t very well just walk out and about on the streets.  As Zico said, he really was a fugitive.

                He blinked again and finally focused on Changmin with a frown, “Why do you know Zico?”  His mental capacities weren’t up to full speed yet but the train of thought he’d just stumbled through called to mind some other things that didn’t quite add up, given the situation.  His upstairs neighbor, nothing more than a painter, was sitting with him in Zico’s… residence because he had brought them here.  He shouldn’t even know the informant…

                “He’s a friend,” Changmin answered quickly, looking away and focusing instead on Jaejoong’s shirt, carefully pulling the hem up with his free hand.  Maybe if he could distract him enough, he wouldn’t keep asking questions.

                “Yah!” Jaejoong groaned, cursing the fact that every outburst hurt.  “What are you doing?” he asked instead, eyeing the seated male suspiciously, clinging to his shirt with his hands in a defensive manner.

                “I’m checking your injuries.  I didn’t want to look while you were unconscious and I had my own wounds to deal with,” he glanced at his left shoulder meaningfully where a wide swath of gauze covered the bullet wound, a blood stained bandage resting under the wrapping.  He had bruising starting on his uncovered chest as well and minor wounds on his face from possible debris, but nothing as bad as the gunshot injury.

                Jaejoong held his tongue for a moment, reluctantly letting Changmin his shirt from the bottom up, using both hands with gentle intent.  He watched the expressive features frown angrily and then tense the more of his abdomen was exposed.  Truthfully, he didn’t want to see either but his erse curiosity prompted him to lift his head up, staring at the mass of battered flesh.  All manner of blue, purple, yellow and green discoloration met his gaze, blossoming in ugly patterns over the toned surface and ribcage.  Nothing looked broken but just seeing the damage made him ache more, including the nasty abrasion on his chin.

                “ing B-Bomb,” he growled softly through clenched teeth, laying the folds of cloth over each other without buttoning them back up, turning to look away with an unreadable expression on his face.

                At the mention of the assassin, Jaejoong turned his attention back to what he didn’t know.  Feeling mildly sick to his stomach, he worked up his courage to ask, placing his right hand on Changmin’s uninjured shoulder.  “How do you know, B-Bomb, Minnie?”  It was possible he’d just heard the name now… no.  He distinctly remembered hearing him male call that name in the apartment.  They knew each other and that could really only mean one thing.

                Changmin stiffened slightly at the question, turning his head and looking at the floor so that Jaejoong had a perfect profile shot of him.  He played with his hands in his lap, reluctant to answer.  “We… um…  We work in the same field,” he admitted slowly, looking away completely so the only thing Jaejoong could see was the back of his head.

                .  There was no other word for it.  “You’re one of them.  Aren’t you?” he asked, fingers tightening slightly on Changmin’s uninjured shoulder.  “You’re an assassin.”

                Changmin took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before he let it out, whistling through his nose.  “Neh.”

                Jaejoong clenched his hand into a fist, hitting Changmin lightly on the back of the shoulder; he noticed how he barely flinched at the contact.  “Damn you,” he murmured thickly, feeling tears threatening again.  “Damn you, Minnie,” he hissed through clenched teeth, not missing the fact that Changmin wouldn’t look at him.  “So which one are you?  Jay?  Rome?  Max?” he practically spat, recognition clicking when he realized Zico had called him that just a moment ago.  He felt utterly betrayed and… hurt.

                “It doesn’t matter what name I go by,” Changmin murmured in response, shoulders slumping slightly in defeat, still unable to look back.

                “No.  Of course it doesn’t,” Jaejoong swallowed, removing his hand and glaring at the back of the younger male.  “Because names don’t matter when all you do is kill people.”  Why was he so close to crying?  “So what was I?” he demanded softly, clenching his jaw to keep the tears from falling.  “When were you going to pull the trigger, Max?” he asked in a hollow tone, feeling all of the fight leave him in that moment.  It had all been a lie…  Every god damned moment of his happiness with this beautiful young man…  This assassin…

                “Stop it, Jae,” Changmin demanded softly, turning on the elder male so fast he didn’t have time to react, planting his hands on either side of his head against the pillow, their faces inches apart.  He watched Jaejoong’s eyes widen in surprise, the sudden intake of breath indication enough he hadn’t expected it.  “Yes.  You were my target from the beginning, but I never intended to hurt you.”

                “But that’s what assassins do,” Jaejoong reminded him in a whisper, eyes never leaving Changmin’s face, posture tense under his looming body, no longer relaxed.  The trust was gone.

                “When the job is to kill someone,” Changmin told him simply, hardly daring to blink.

                Understanding hit Jaejoong hard, ripping his heart to shreds in the blink of an eye.  “It was never about me, was it?”  His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and he bit his trembling bottom lip to still it before he spoke again.  “You were after the contract.”  Changmin’s silence was answer enough when the young face above him declined to refute the accusation.  “You took it, didn’t you?” he demanded, beating his weak fists against Changmin’s muscled chest, struggling to breathe.  “Where is it?” he continued, hitting him again, the sound a soft thud against his flesh that Changmin made no effort to stop.

                “I don’t know,” he admitted after a painful pause.

                “You’re lying.”

                “No.  I don’t know where it is,” he repeated, swallowing once and closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts.  When he spoke, he kept his eyes closed and whispered softly around the growing lump in his throat, feeling his way.  “I was hired to retrieve the contract.  That much is true.  And because you had the only copy I had any chance of retrieving, getting close to you was necessary.”  He opened his eyes and looked straight at Jaejoong, feeling his arms tremble as he held himself over the silent male.  “To that end, I made sure to get a room near yours.  I bugged the vent into your room to listen in on you.”

                “The debris on my desk,” Jaejoong hissed, shaking his finger at Changmin, his eyes flashing while his bottom jaw trembled.  Well, that explained that mystery.  It was practically textbook too.

                Changmin pursed his lips and nodded belatedly.  He had wondered about that actually, but he didn’t let it distract him.  Gathering his courage, he went on, “I took every chance I could to stay close to you; to get to know you so you would let me in.  I pretended to be drunk in order to get into your apartment without you suspecting my motives, and-”

                “Shut up,” the elder male interrupted, unable to hold his gaze any longer.  “You had me fooled completely.”  His bottom jaw clenched and unclenched as he sniffed quietly.  “I take it you poured vodka on yourself then?” he questioned, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.  “And I suppose you’re the one that took my gun as well.”

                “Neh.  To the vodka bit.  As for your gun,” he shook his head and frowned slightly.  “I think that was more Yunho’s doing.”

                Jaejoong swung his focus back to Changmin and just stared at him.  “Of course.  Yunho.  U-Know.  I was right all along…  .”  How could he be so blind?  In frustration, he scrubbed his face with both hands, careful not to slap Changmin in the process, though he wanted to…  Then another thought occurred to him and his eyes flashed when he demanded, “Your story was a lie too, wasn’t it?”  The younger male could only glance away and nod in silent agreement.  “ you,” he bit the words out, ramming his right fist into Changmin’s chest, dangerously close to his wound.  “ you, Minnie!” he cried again, angry tears pooling on his lashes as he beat the other’s chest uselessly.

                Wincing at the weak attack, Changmin pushed up and caught the flailing fists with both hands, holding firm.  “Stop that, Jae.  Please,” he asked, keeping the fists at bay, floating in the air between them instead of pinned against the other’s injured chest.  “Will you let me finish?” he requested, loosening his hold ever so slightly.

                Jaejoong closed his eyes and felt the tension drain out of his shoulders, the fight temporarily gone.  “Not like I can stop you, can I?” he mumbled caustically.

                “Jae…” the younger sighed, chewing on his lip again.  Why was this so damn hard to do?  “You know I never made it into your room.”  His statement prompted Jaejoong to crack open his eyes again and peer at him through mere slits.  “You locked your door and I didn’t have the courage to pick it,” he laughed weakly, the thought silly now.  All humor died quickly though as he saw how every word cut deeper the more he explained, so that he died more inside with every moment.

                “And if you had?”  The question was so soft he almost missed it but he quailed at giving a response.

                Gently, he pressed Jaejoong’s hands back down to just over his chest, letting the elbows rest along either side of his prone body.  “I would have tried to find the safe I now know you hid in your closet.”  He flinched at the hurt in Jaejoong’s eyes and added, “Yunho missed it the first time around so I don’t know how successful I would have been.”

                Jaejoong felt like he had a vice wrapped around his heart and every time Changmin opened his mouth, the handle turned and it squeezed that much harder.  “So everything about us is a lie.”

                “At first…” Changmin agreed after a long and dreadful pause.  He watched Jaejoong swallow once, unable to respond to his answer.  “But then the more I got to know you, the more I found myself thinking about you.  Not as a target, but as you.”

                Unable to look away, Jaejoong closed his eyes on Changmin’s pained expression.  He didn’t want to see him sad because then he wanted to make it better and he was not feeling in a charitable or forgiving mood just then.

                Given the chance to just look at Jaejoong, Changmin drank his features in shamelessly, noticing the line of tears marring his lashes, the bags forming under his eyes in his normally perfect complexion, the messy strands of ebony hair pillowed around his head…  “The trip to the Statue of Liberty backfired,” he explained softly, a real smile pulling at his lips despite the situation.  The words stalled on his tongue when Jaejoong opened his eyes again, fixing him with liquid orbs of wavering chocolate.

                “Just another trick?” he whispered, lips barely moving to let the question slip past.

                “It was supposed to be a diversion; something to get us together so that I could make you trust me.  So that you would let your guard down.  Even the kiss in the stairwell…”  He had to stop when he saw the obvious pain in Jaejoong’s eyes.  “But you got to me too.”  The other male’s gaze slid away, looking at a fixed point over his shoulder.  “And the more I tried to make you fall for me, the more I started to fall for you.”

                “Just… stop,” Jaejoong pleaded softly, jaw clenching while he swallowed the lump in his throat and failed to keep the tears from slipping past his lashes.

                Changmin carefully grasped Jaejoong’s face between his hands to make him look at him, holding him steady when the other would have looked away.  “You made me feel as if there was nothing in the world you wouldn’t do to help me if I needed it.”  He had to pause to breathe for the intensity in Jaejoong’s gaze made it hard to do so otherwise.  “I wasn’t lying when I told you I wanted to give us a chance,” he whispered, voice shaking while his eyes blinked quickly.

                Jaejoong couldn’t help the tears that spilled over his lashes and trailed down his face again, wetting Changmin’s hands before sliding further to stain his hair and the pillow under his head.  His bottom jaw trembled and he wanted nothing more than to scream and beat his frustration of Changmin out on the broad chest above him, but he knew it would accomplish nothing and just hurt both of them.  “Why-?” he started to ask, his voice breaking on the single word.  Swallowing hard and taking another shallow breath, he tried again.  “Why did you save me?”

                Changmin used his thumbs to wipe away Jaejoong’s tears, brushing against the damp skin lightly.  He didn’t want to lie to him but…  “Part of me was just doing my job.  B and Yunho were still after the contract you had after all…”  In that moment, he hated himself for the devastation he saw in Jaejoong’s eyes and it took all his courage to continue on.  “But the other part of me…  The part that isn’t even remotely professional in all of this…  I just knew I had to get you out of there, because if anyone else got their hands on you, I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

                It felt an eternity that Jaejoong just stared at him, taking one shallow breath after the next but not saying anything.  “I hate you,” he sobbed quietly at last, through a reluctant smile that forced his lips up into a position he wanted to fight so very hard.  He closed his eyes as he laughed and cried at the same time.

                “And I think I may love you,” Changmin admitted, not daring to move, feeling himself balancing on the precarious knife’s edge with no clue if he was going to fall in a moment or not.  Then Jaejoong opened his watery eyes again and he forgot how to breathe.

                Jaejoong hated everything about how Changmin had played him and everything about how he might still be playing him, but he knew that what he had felt had been real; at least on his side.  There had not been a single word he’d said or done that he hadn’t meant when he’d been with him and while he hated himself too, for that truth, it didn’t change what he felt for the duplicitous man above him.  Neither did it erase the betrayal between them though.  “I hate that I think I might love you too,” he murmured unhappily, brow furrowed at the admission, his hands coming up to grip Changmin’s wrists.

                Changmin laughed weakly, smiling down at the injured man.  “I can accept that,” he nodded, caressing Jaejoong’s cheeks with his thumbs before he leaned over to place his lips gently against the pale forehead.

                His hands around Changmin’s wrists tightened and he closed his eyes, trembling slightly ever so often because nothing in his world made sense anymore.  Jaejoong inhaled quickly when he felt Changmin’s lips move to press against his closed lids; first one side and then the other, the sensation warm and soft.  “Minnie…” he breathed when the younger’s lips moved away, allowing him to open his eyes, only to find himself staring into Changmin’s, their noses so close they were almost touching.  It would be so easy to just tilt his head up and…

                They both jumped when they heard a knock on the door and Zico pushed his way in.  “Everything alright?” he started to ask until he noticed their positioning.  “Yah!  Not on my bed!” he groaned, waving at the pair from the safety of the doorway.  “That is so gross…” he complained with a roll of his eyes, glaring at Changmin specifically.

                Sheepishly, the youngest grinned as he pushed himself up, keeping a hand on Jaejoong’s shoulder so he wouldn’t try to move yet.  “Sorry, Zico.  What’s up?” he asked, focusing his attention on the rather unconventional young man and pushing his other concerns to the back of his mind for the moment.

                “Aish,” Zico grumbled, looking at the mess on his floor with disdain.  “Now that both of you are awake and… well, I need to talk to you,” he waved, closing the door behind them.  They jumped when he popped right back in though, and yelled at Changmin, “And clean that up.”  Then he was gone, the door shut behind him and retreating footsteps indicating he had indeed walked away.

                “Sorry…” Jaejoong murmured apologetically, looking up at Changmin who just patted his shoulder again.  He really hadn’t intended on getting sick.

                “It’s alright.  I’ll take care of that,” and he glanced at the floor, “and then we’ll just see what’s on Zico’s mind.  Neh?” he asked with a smile, trying to keep the tone light.

                “Neh,” Jaejoong nodded in quiet agreement, playing with his fingers hovering just over his abdomen, careful not to actually touch Changmin yet.  When he stood up to take care of Jaejoong’s mess, he just watched him move around slowly, taking his time to compensate for his injuries.  Everything about Changmin left him feeling decidedly unsettled.

                 The assassin had been hired to get the contract from him, which he claimed to have no current knowledge of, but at the same time, he had also saved Jaejoong.  No matter who might have found him first, death, imprisonment, or imprisonment and death had all been likely outcomes.  Quite frankly, because Changmin was a damn assassin, death was still a possibility but he also claimed to have fallen for his target…

                  Jaejoong had to stifle a sigh while he grappled with his own emotions.  Until this moment, he had never understood how something could feel both so very wrong and so very right at the same time and he wasn’t sure he liked it.  Well, he did, but then again, he didn’t.  He really did care for the younger male, enough to say he might well be in love with him, but everything about their relationship up until now had been based on a lie.  He couldn’t forget that… but neither could he forget the way they did mesh so well together.

                   Oh …  He was definitely in trouble now.

(a/n: Revamp complete!  This story is seriously stuck in my head lately, to the point of me neglecting my other ones.  I don't know if it's really neglecting them when ideas are coming for this one the way they are though so I'm not sure if I should feel guilty or not.  >.>  Either way, I hope that you're enjoying the development and that you won't be too upset when things slow down again.  I don't have nearly the time to write during the week that I do during the weekend.  Huzzah!

But things are coming along and while not a lot happened this chapter, we had a baring of souls, more or less.  Do you think you'd still accept Changmin after a confession like that?  XD  hehe  I had to try for at least a little bit of MinJae time.  Honestly, the poor bastard still has a lot to sort through and I don't envy him.  :/

At present, like usual, I have no idea as to a timeline for this story but I don't anticipate it being incredibly long.  I won't try to guesstimate right now (I'm always wrong) but you can look forward to at least another handful of chapters to flesh out what's left.  Our introduced cast isn't done by far so stick around and I look forward to seeing you in the next installment!  Thanks again for reading!)