However...there is a sequel coming up. ^.^ And various one-shots as well. Be on the lookout for one involving Gonou and Gojyo after the events stated herein. I rather like this universe ^.^

Notes to reviewers at the end...and this is solely from Gojyo's PoV.

Thanks to everybody who reviewed, it helps me write and makes me a -very- happy Karot. I owe you all ^.^ Enjoy this final installment, but rest assured there -will- be more.

The one-shots that come after this fic are as follows (in chronological order): Two Steps Back, Gin, Chocolate Ears, Sleeping Alone, and Meetings. Blackjack starts between Sleeping Alone and Meetings, and Garlic occurred a few chapters back ^.^

***

Hello, apartment. I shrug my jacket off, dropping my keys and wallet on the entry table. It's warming up, for the first time all winter. Which means the slush on the ground has soaked up my jeans to the knees. With one more backward glance at the door, making sure the lock and chain are secure - don't call me paranoid - I kick off my shoes and pants, content to hang out in my skivvies. I pay for heat, don't I?

Well, not really. Not yet. But in a few months, when I have enough saved up to both eat and pay the bills, I will. Until then, I'm on Candy's dime. It's really made me frugal. She pays my expenses that aren't food or little luxuries, and I call her once a week for a little check-up. It's strange, how amicable she is about the whole thing. Like there's a Good Samaritan inside her she's got to please every once in a while. Or maybe just an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. I didn't really do her wrong - I just never did her right.

I light a cigarette. It's late. It's so Goddamn' late and I haven't eaten since I shoved that burrito down in the half-hour I get to eat dinner. At five in the evening. Who the hell eats dinner that early? Through the smoke of the cigarette I can see the clock on the microwave. One-thirty. I got off early.

Not that I mind working in a casino. Oh, no. It's great. I get a uniform, a nametag, a paycheck, free meals, and all the cocktail waitresses I can watch. I won't ask how Candy did it, but she got me promoted from Janitorial Assistant to Blackjack Dealer with one phone call. That's where the spiffed-out clothes come in. Me and my black slacks, my red vest, my shiny gold nametag, and my white shirts starched by the casino's maids. They're like wearing cardboard, but it's -nice- cardboard. 'Course, I've got to leave everything there, because the boss'd have my head if I rumpled 'em up and tossed 'em on the ground. I look back to the sodden lump of my pants and grin a little. They'll crunch in the morning.

I let my hair down - did I mention they want me to cut it off? - and lean back, staring at the ceiling. I haven't eaten in eight hours. I should be starving. I'm not cutting my Goddamn' hair.

There's this one waitress I watch every night. They've all got to wear white shirts and red vests and shiny gold nametags, but the shirts don't have buttons whatsoever and somebody skimped on the fabric budget for those vests. Don't get me started on those little black skirts. Or the boots, dear God, the boots. It's all a man can do to concentrate on making sure the House always wins. But there's this one who works the tables near me, with dark blonde hair and soft green eyes and a sweet smile. I think her name's Reno. Or it could be where she's from. But she smiles at everybody, so when she smiles at me it shouldn't be a big deal.

Yet sometimes things like that mean more than you'd think. She wears three earrings in each ear and her bellybutton's pierced. On Saturdays she's got the casino's logo in rhinestones dangling down there. That burrito was damn' small.

I get up, socked feet slipping on tile floor, and rummage through the fridge. Yum, cold takeout. Is it obvious I'm really trying to watch my figure? I saw love-handles in the mirror yesterday, freaked the hell out of me. Like I should really be worried about it. Maybe I'll get a salad or something tomorrow. Maybe not. I feel kind of guilty wasting water on washing dishes, so I nuke the wonton soup and drink it from the cup. I tip the ash from my cigarette into the sink and shove it in my mouth, crossing to the doorway to grab my pants and hang them on the coatrack so they'll be some semblance of dry by the next time I've got to go out. I don't have to be at work until two, and even then the going's slow until maybe nine. Nobody's much in the mood to play Blackjack until they're good and drunk and reckless. Maybe I'll talk to Reno a little tomorrow, when the going's slow.

The phone's ringing. I go into the bedroom, plop down on the bed, take a swig of soup, and shove the receiver against my ear.

"'Lo?" It's Gonou. God, Gonou, it's been a long time.

I let him talk. And I let him talk some more. And I stop dead.

"Do you want me to come over?" Was that ever a stupid question, Gojyo. "Okay. Yes. Gonou..." He cuts me off, and I nod like he could possibly see me. "Have you called anyone else?" Just me. I was the first. Oh, Gonou. He signs off and hangs up, leaving me with an empty silence and a hot cup of leftover soup I can't stomach anymore. I hang up and scribble Gonou's words on a nearby napkin, stare at the note, and pull at my hair so hard my eyes tear.

There is something hot and heavy in the back of my throat. I swallow hard. They want me to cut off my Goddamn' hair. God, Gonou, it's been so long. There's no way in hell I can afford a black suit. I'm the first person he called. Where did he get my number? I'll get to see him again. I've got to be at work by two. I'm so insensitive. God, Gonou, it's been a hell of a long time without you.

***

Notes: Bwahahaha.

Ethereal-tenshi: You guessed it. It had to happen, and there it went!

Keistje: Don't worry - I never took offense or anything. Hee, I describe stuff but my powers of *denotation* are what really need to be worked on. I'm glad you liked my commercials - they were a fun little bout of sociopolitical commentary I'd been turning over in the background of my brain for a while. Hooray for random manifestations.

Merf: You're right - the Sanbutsushin just kind of struck me as news anchors. ^.^ This is the end of E&A, but I am working on a Kougaiji-centric sequel. So, to answer your question about Hyakugan Maoh...you're just gonna have to wait ! Haha I so evil.

Bakasaru Boi: I can do -many- things. For my fics are indellible! Gwar! Hee, I -promise- there's more. But E&A had to end here because the rest doesn't center on Gonou and Gojyo. Or even much of Sanzo and Goku. E-hee.

Fortunata: Augh! Don't kill me! *snif* Sorry I'm such an idiot. But hey, I waited till it showed up and have now fixed the notes! Wholesome? In=nteresting adjective. Chapters 9-11 were all experimental for me - glad you weren't turned off.

Mei Yanohi: Aw, thanks! I think my favorite interactions to write were Gojyo-and-Gonou, Sanzo-and-Goku, and Goyjo-and-Candy. That's in no particular order ^.- And thanks for the compliment about my consistency - these be my babies!