Title: Where the Wild Lilies Grow (3/10)
Universes: Haru wo Daiteita & Casino Lily
Pairings: Carlo/Magira, Iwaki/Katou, Shouji/Shu Ti Fan(o_O)
Rating, all over: NC-17
Warnings, all over: Explicit sex and violence. Shameless Romance. This is not an angst-fest.
Word count, this chapter: : 2,700
Notes: List of all chapters here. For elfflame who wanted me to put Magira in this situation.
Summary: When Carlo comes home from a business trip only to discover that Magira has left him, he has to change the passive way he usually takes when it comes to defending his relationship with the charming, but spoiled young player. Carlo has once offered to wager his entire fortune in exchange for Magira's company. This time, Carlo has to realise that his life might be at stake as well...



Back to chapter 2

Chapter 3. Ace of Hearts

'Don't hesitate to call, Iwaki-kun.' Sawa looks determined and very competent; vaguely different from his usual almost pliant, feminine appearance. 'I still have friends in the Organized Crime Control Section. If this has its roots in Japan...' Sawa hesitates. 'Magira Yuri; I wonder if he has been in the wrong place at the wrong moment before he moved to the States?' Sawa looks around in the busy airport, as if scanning the surroundings. Clearly, the gentle author has not forgotten his former occupation.

'Sawa-san, thank you for your help.' Iwaki bows, honestly grateful that Sawa has offered his opinion and his expertise. 'If you'll allow Carlo-san to contact you; the American police seems unaware of how interesting Magira-kun is for someone who wants to use his talent.' Or for hurting Carlo, for that matter. But Sawa knows the implications without having Iwaki pointing them out to him. Gamblers, old enemies, bouryokudan, mafia. There are people enough who might want a bit of what either Magira or Carlo have. Being talented or rich - or both - is not always a good thing, Iwaki knows that from unpleasant experience. 'I think it might be helpful for Carlo, if he could speak to someone who can advice him how to act during this.'

'For you, Iwaki-san, I'll do it.' Sawa doesn't know Carlo, but he knows how fragile and costly love is, and how quickly it can be taken away, Iwaki has seen proof of that more than one time. 'When you arrive, tell Carlo-san to call me,' Sawa offers. 'I'll use the time until then to ask around. Someone might have heard rumours of the infamous Casino Lily.'

Iwaki thanks Sawa again before they have to check in, leaving their friend outside, clearly worried. It feels, however, good that they have this kind of lifeline to use, in case Magira's disappearance is not just an American thing. As they pass through security, the seriousness of the events make both Iwaki and Katou quiet and subdued. Now they can do nothing but wait. Having nothing to do but to watch the people passing by, Iwaki realises the airport personnel is even politer than usual: two famous actors and a private jet equals even more status, reflected in the amount of politely bowing guards, stewardesses and waiters they are approached by while they wait for the flight to be announced.

Only the service doesn't matter. What matters is that their friend has the man he loves taken from him; not knowing what has become of him. Not knowing whether Magira is still alive or not.

Iwaki is deep in his own thoughts, his only connection to the world around him is Katou's hand in his; for once they are allowing themselves affection openly. That is how much this has touched Iwaki. He is pulled out of his musings, though, when his mobile phone suddenly goes off. Fumbling for it, Iwaki manages to reply.

'Iwaki-san? Carlo here.' Carlo's voice sounds calm and unworried, as if he is trying to hold on to some kind of normality. 'I have asked the pilot to delay the flight for another hour. I need someone to catch up with you.'



The voices come and go. His tongue feels as if it is too large for his mouth. At some point, something cold and soothing is poured down his throat and he sinks back in the darkness; inevitably so, because he doesn't think it matters whether his eyes are open or not. He cannot move, and the state between being awake and asleep is better than trying to find the awareness that seems so far away. Carlo is here, in this dream, and he doesn't want him to disappear.

Someone turns him around, lifting his limbs as if he were a doll. It feels relieving not to lie in the same position. It should hurt what they are doing, but it doesn't; it is just something that happens to his body. He is not in it, not really. He ignores the rough hands and sinks into the welcoming darkness again.

To be with Carlo.



'I didn't give you Magira for you to go lose him! What kind of idiot are you?' For the third time that day, Shouji is berating Carlo. It seems as if the initial shock has worn off, and left Shouji enraged.

Shouji almost shouts in the phone, and Carlo curls up around himself, barely able to continue keeping the phone in his hand. There is nothing he can say. Shouji is right. He should have taken care of Magira, knowing so well that his beauty and talent could tempt someone else to reach out and take him. Or maybe it is just Carlo's money. That was what the police suggested. That Magira had either taken off by himself, or that demands or threats would be issued sooner or later. Carlo's fortune is big enough to attract even the bigger fish. The real sharks.

'Are you there, Carlo?' Shouji rudely leaves out the honorific. 'What do you intend to do about this? Are you fucking doing something? Or are you just a rich mummy's boy, sitting at home, whimpering until Magira's dead-'

'That's enough!' Carlo is dragged out of his almost catatonic state, shouting back at his Uncle-in-Law. 'How dare you? I love Magira! I have not lost him, Shouji! Somebody has taken him, there is no doubt, no matter what the police says!' Carlo turns around, uncurling from the ball of fear and passivity. He slams his fist into the coffee table, making the glass crack. He doesn't even register his knuckles bruising. 'If you think I am doing nothing, what are you doing?' Carlo cries, becoming unhinged. 'You are sitting with your thugs in an underground casino, yelling at me? How, precisely, is that going to help Magira? Why aren't you on your way to the airport already? I hired a private jet, damn it, so you could get here faster! I want my lover back, no matter if I am going to use every dollar I own, and on top of that rip off the bloody heads off the bloody fuckers who have done this!' Carlo is losing it, entirely, not realising that Shouji is doing this on purpose until after he is done shouting at Magira's uncle. It is needed. Carlo wants to be dragged out of his sluggish state, not just sitting there, waiting for something to happen.

There is a pause; none of them are speaking. 'My, what language,' Shouji finally says. 'I suppose it is Magira who taught you such crude English? Do you feel better now, Carlo-san?'

'No, I don't. And I won't until Magira is back and well.' Carlo runs a hand over his face. The silent tears are surprising, but not unexpected. It is as if the person Carlo was before slowly is evaporating, leaving a desperate, devastated human being in his place: one unable to hold back the feelings he usually hides. 'Shouji-san... what am I going to do?' Carlo manages weakly. Usually business is carried out with money or stocks or property of some kind; employees and lawyers dealing with all the paperwork, rules set on said paper. In this, there are no rules. Carlo is not even sure there is a game, at least not one he knows how to play.

'First of all, you are going to learn how to play dirty and keep your cards hidden. I knew you were a fucking sissy when I saw you the first time.' Shouji's voice is light and teasing. 'That is why I have to come over there and help you. Wouldn't want you to soil your lily-white hands.'

'Shouji-san...' Carlo both wants Shouji to be there, and not. 'What if this has its roots in Japan? It isn't as if the country is lacking when it comes to organised crime, either.' That is the problem. If they only had the tiniest clue to who is behind Magira's disappearance, but they don't. 'Maybe you should stay?'

'You mean if some of our lovely tattooed society members suddenly have felt inspired to grab Magira?' Shouji laughs bitterly. 'They are not like your mafia, Carlo-san. They'd probably rather try a bit of blackmail - that is if it wasn't commonly known that you are living with Magira in the first place. Or they'd be trying to take over your casino. I'll ask around, though, before I go.'

Somehow, Carlo doesn't even find it alarming that Shouji has the ability to "ask around" when it comes to the bouryokudan. After all, Shouji is managing an underground casino. Whether it is just underground by location, or underground as in "illegal" has not occurred to him until now. Carlo startles at the thought. 'What if this has something to do with you, and not with me or Magira?'

There's a pause before Shouji replies. 'No. I know who my enemies are, Carlo-san. And they would deal directly with me. If they had ever wanted to hurt me through Magira, I'd have known already. And before you ask the question you don't dare ask: I am not yakuza, nor do I have anything to do with organised crime. Or unorganised, for that matter. I am not a man to mess with, but I can manage by myself. On the right side of the law. Barely, but still on the right side.' Shouji sounds slightly offended, as of it had to be evident that he didn't engage in any illegal activities.

'Thank you. I didn't mean any offence,' Carlo says.

'I am going to cut you some slack in that department,' Shouji's voice is kind now. 'I understand. Now I am going to grab my suitcase and leave. You have those two useless film stars waiting for me at the airport, right?'

'They are not useless,' Carlo says quietly and disconnects.



He knows that voice. He remembers it vaguely, whispering in his ear, whispering over his skin. It makes him jerk, this is not Carlo. He wants Carlo to be here, now, to hold him and to take away the headache and the unpleasant feeling of being tied up. It is wrong, this. Only Carlo is allowed to touch him when he's sick and tired and wants water and to be taken care of and pampered. Rough hands pull and push and there is this cool, lovely fluid soothing his throat again.

It takes only a minute before he turns as much as he is able to in his restraints and vomits, barely avoiding the mattress he's lying on.

'Such a dirty boy,' the familiar voice says. 'What am I going to do with you?'

Magira is too lost and too exhausted to reply. He just wants Carlo. He tries to communicate that, but it is too late. He sinks back into the darkness, back to where Carlo is, still there, holding him tightly.



'Let's go through it again,' Shouji demands, waving at Carlo with a few pieces of paper in one hand.

Carlo is certain the man could have become a first class detective, had he been so inclined. Surprised that Shouji can still be awake and alert after the long flight, Carlo does what he is told. He looks into the wardrobe which, once more, holds Magira's clothes, neatly placed on the hangers, or folded and put back into the drawers where they belong. Carlo is done crying and raging. Shouji's presence makes him act, just as Iwaki's kindness soothes him, and Katou's optimism urges him to do his best without letting the situation break him. Iwaki and Katou have gone to bed, there is not much more they can do now, since it is midnight and no one has been able to dig up the slightest trace of what has happened to Magira. 'I don't think there is anything missing that I haven't already put on the list,' Carlo says and closes the polished mahogany door to the walk-in wardrobe. 'Not that I know precisely what was in here in the first place.'

'But we have an idea now. Somebody has "helped" him pack a suitcase.' Shouji thoughtfully taps his lips with a finger. 'Either they have done it to make it look as if he just disappeared or they have decided to keep him somewhere, alive.'

'Oh, thank you. I needed to be reminded of that possibility, that they might just have...' Carlo clings to the brass door handle, as if it can help him cling to the lasts shred of dignity and pride he has left.

'What I am saying, Carlo-san, is that I think he has been taken because they want him alive. They need him for something, otherwise we'd have received that dreaded call from his kidnappers already. It may just a bonus for them if you had accepted that he left you and hadn't made a fuss out of it. The police is always inconvenient, so they probably tried to keep them out of the equation.'

Carlo lets go of the door handle. He realises the implications of this. 'If that is so, then the ones who have taken him knows him, and me. They know how he has left the men... what Magira was like before.' Carlo lets out a deep sigh, then sits down on the bed, next to Shouji. 'That he would bed anyone with money. Any man who wanted him enough to let him play, and when he was done playing... he just took off, never caring about that other person.'

'Precisely. It might be somebody who knew him when he was the infamous Casino Lily.' Shouji sounds tired, finally. 'I think this is what I warned him against, over and over. What I feared would happen to him if he continued his irresponsible lifestyle; touring all over the world, gambling with his body and the fortunes of other men.' Shouji's face contracts in pain. 'I was so pleased when he found you, Carlo-san. You've been good for him. What evil fate it is that his former life returns to revenge itself on him, just when he was happy and in love.'

Carlo doesn't know what to say. He has failed, protecting his lover. Money and power does not equal love, like he used to think, nor is it enough to protect a loved one. Now he wonders if his reserved way of treating Magira, the way he never showed his love passionately, might have been the reason for this: that someone believes they could take Magira from him because the young man really didn't matter enough? If Carlo had loved fiercely, passionately and openly like Magira wanted him to, this wouldn't have happened?

'Carlo-san, go to bed.' Unexpectedly, Shouji squeezes Carlo's shoulder warmly. 'You need to get some rest; tomorrow we are calling in private investigators, and you need to be able to handle their questions calmly.'

'I don't think I can sleep.' Carlo hasn't slept for more than twenty four hours. Lying down on his and Magira's bed to stare into the darkness and have nothing to distract his thoughts? Carlo fears that.

'You can barely keep standing. Carlo, please lie down. If you want it, I can stay with you until you've fallen asleep.' Shouji pulls the bedspread aside - the only thing that wasn't crumbled and torn - and motions for Carlo to lie down.

It feels strange. This odd tenderness from a man he barely knows... No matter Shouji is a rough, uneducated man, he knows how to care. Still dressed, Carlo gives in. Maybe he can sleep, just a little, while Shouji is there. He lies down, cuddling under the heavy duvet, wrapping an arm around the pillow.

That is were he finds it, under the pillow. His hand brushes over what feels like a piece of paper, and Carlo sits up again, pulling out a small playing card from under the pillow. It's an ace of hearts. The card is torn, almost in two. A broken heart. One red suit in two pieces. Carlo looks at the playing card in his hand, then at Shouji, who is watching him without a word. Despite the fear and the tiredness, Carlo shakes his head. 'My Magira... his is a clever one. This is the confirmation of our theory.'

'But what does it mean?' Shouji looks a little confused. 'Do you have any idea?'

'Oh, yes,' Carlo says, and for the first time since Shouji arrived, he smiles. 'I have a very good idea.'

On to chapter 4