I came up with this years back. I don't remember why, and I don't remember exactly when, but last year I finally decided to write it. It would have have met the fate of all the other stories I started and never finished if it hadn't been for my friend Eria squeeing over it. So, here we are.

As far as pairings go, I'll leave that as a surprise. Warnings? Look out for graphic descriptions of a major accident this chapter. As for the rest? It's Gravitation, so yeah. This hasn't been properly beta'd since my beta's preoccupied so please forgive any mistakes.

I don't own Beyblade, Gravitation, or Stargate: SG-1. Yes, Stargate characters make an appearance. They belong to their respective owners and I do not seek to make any money from this work.


"I'll see you tomorrow, guys!" Shindou Shuichi called from the doorway of NG studio's recording room, where his bandmates were packing up their instruments and stowing them in the provided lockers. They waved farewell to him as he bounced out, exiting the building at top speed lest he be stopped by K or anyone else bent on keeping him from going home. He'd had a great day recording his latest song, but he was eager to get back to his boyfriend, Yuki Eiri.

As he left the building, he noted the traffic piled up outside the building. It was a long walk home, and he didn't want to leave Yuki worrying about whether or not he'd been mugged or waylaid by the ever-ready K for some odd promotion scheme, so he decided to take the train. He hurried to the station and, after buying his ticket, found that he had a few minutes before it came, so he settled into a seat and took a good look around out of boredom.

There was a woman with her children sitting on a bench nearby, the woman fussing over her daughter's hair, trying to smooth it back into place where it had come loose from its bows. The young boy was occupying himself with his lollipop, his mouth a vibrant green color because of the candy, but he stuck close to his mother.

A little farther off, a man in a smart-looking suit checked his watch, then looked where the train was expected to come from. Upon closer inspection, Shuichi noticed that the man's tie was a bit loose around his neck, and his shirt was partially untucked, and his face was tired but hopeful.

Shuichi couldn't help but smile. Everyone around him was eager to head home, he knew, where their friends and families were waiting for them. As if on cue, the train pulled up then, and Shuichi boarded with the rest of the passengers. The woman and her children followed him onto the train, while the businessman boarded two cars down. A person squeezed onto the train as the doors were closing, a man wearing a blue jean jacket and an orange baseball cap, but Shuichi wouldn't have noticed except for the suitcase the man carried.

The train left the station at 2015, Shuichi noting the time so he could tell Yuki when he related his day to his boyfriend later on. Too eager to sit, he danced in place instead, practicing a few moves he planned on using at his next concert. The woman had taken a seat near him and had noted her son's messy appearance, working to rectify it despite childish protests.

Twenty minutes later, the train pulled up at another station, where it became filled to capacity. Squeezed next to the window, Shuichi saw the man with the orange baseball cap exit the train, and noticed that he had left behind the suitcase. As the train pulled away at 2040, the crowd redistributed itself more evenly among the cars, allowing Shuichi to break his intimate encounter with the window and stand more comfortably. He glanced at a nearby watch every couple of minutes, eagerly awaiting the next stop, where he'd depart and head on home to Yuki.

Because he was checking the time so often, he knew that at 2053, the world exploded.

The train bucked suddenly, as if it had hit a bump on the track. Then came a sound like thunder, immediately followed by screaming. Shuichi grabbed onto the overhead rack and clung to it like his life depended on it as the train rocked a few times, then toppled. He wasn't on the side that hit the ground, but the glass behind him shattered, flying into his back like dozens of tiny, burning knives. He cried out in pain, losing his grip on the rack and crashing hard into the ground. He landed between two bodies, the woman from before victim to a shred of glass and her little girl, blood spreading from the wound on her head. The young boy was still alive, though, howling in grief as he clung to his mother, shaking her in vain. Shuichi pulled him away and scrambled upwards, where he could see open sky amongst pillars of smoke through the broken window.

As he reached the luggage rack and hauled himself up, a man behind him, undoubtedly meaning well, opened the door to another car. An inferno swallowed him, rushing for Shuichi like hell's flames, and he reacted quickly, desperately throwing the young boy to the window, where he could see him scramble out. He reached for the window as well, feeling the flames rushing at him, and knew that he didn't have a chance. Even as his hand reached the sill, his hand being sliced on the glass, the flames engulfed him, choking him, and he lost his hard-won grip, slipping backwards. His head slammed against the rack that had saved his life once, but now seemed bent on claiming it, and he screamed his frustration, knowing that he would never get to see Yuki again. Merciful blackness claimed him, as a hand darted through the window and heaved him out. A large man cradled him protectively, casting a glance back to the window, which was now filled with flames, before rushing him to where ambulances had started gathering.

. . . . . . .

The hospital was a madhouse as victims of the train wreck were hauled through the doors, teams of nurses and doctors struggling to save the few lucky souls who hadn't been burnt to a crisp or killed. One Doctor Janet Frasier, despite being on vacation, had immediately left her adopted daughter in the care of her local friends and gone to the hospital to lend her aid, which was gladly received.

It was because of this that, after treating dozens of patients with cuts, burns, and other such injuries, she found herself caring for her most shocking patient of the night. Despite what she'd seen in her usual line of work, she knew this was one sight that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her patient was a young man, most likely a teenager, with second-degree burns across most of his body. His skull and face were only lightly burned, fortunately, but there wasn't a strand of hair left on his head and she wondered if his eyes had come out of this ordeal unscathed. To complicate matters, shards of glass had lacerated his back, his legs and arms suffering only minor cuts, while a large gash presented itself on his left cheek. Paramedics, she had been told, had removed the remains of several teeth from his mouth and X-rays were in the works to see if his jaw was cracked. She could see several large shards of glass still embedded in the largest of the cuts, a sight that made her heart clench, and it was with a determined look on her face that she snapped on a new pair of gloves and set to work, issuing sharp orders through an interpreter.

She wouldn't let this young man die on her watch.

. . . . . . .

"Authorities are still investigating the cause of the train wreck two days ago, though they haven't released details of the case. All they are saying is they believe it to be the work of a lone person whose motives and means have yet to be determined. As we've reported before, at least one hundred were killed and many more injured."

A blonde man watched the news somberly, his light brown eyes never wavering from the woman on the screen. A closer glance revealed the harried look Yuki Eiri had, worry and grief turning the normally composed author into a wreck, and the others assembled in his living room weren't looking any better. The assorted members of Bad Luck and Nittle Grasper were in a similar state, the air of the room heavy with their dark moods. The reporter on the screen shuffled her papers, ignorant of the hearts she was about to break, before continuing her report.

"Among the casualties of the ill-fated train is Shindou Shuichi, aspiring rock star and member of the up and coming band Bad Luck. Security tapes indicate that Shindou boarded the train outside NG Studios, but did not disembark before the accident. Though his body hasn't been identified, it is believed that he is among those who are too disfigured for identification. His friends and family are hoping that this is not the case, and investigations will continue."

Nakano Hiroshi turned off the television, dark red hair obscuring his blue eyes as the guitarist turned to the rest of the room. Beside him, Fujisaki Suguru stared down at his hands glumly, seeming not to notice the tears streaming from brown eyes.

"So that's it, then?" Hiro asked darkly, hand clenched around the television remote. "We write him off and go on with our lives?"

Seguchi Tohma's expression was carefully blank, the only sign of his grief being the darkness in his blue eyes. "No matter what happened, I'm sure Shuichi would want us to continue with our lives. He wouldn't want us to be saddened by his loss." He glanced at the remaining members of Bad Luck, carefully avoiding looking directly into Hiro's eyes. "However, if you need time off, I understand."

Yuki remained silent throughout the conversation, his attention focused on the carpet between his feet. Giving up hope was the hardest thing he'd done, and that included the decision he very nearly made in New York. Shuichi just couldn't be gone…

"It's getting late," Tohma decided. "We all need to rest, and I'm sure Yuki would like time alone." He stood and ushered everyone out of the door, bidding them each a good night before returning to sit beside Yuki. "How are you holding up?"

"I miss him," Yuki whispered, burying his face into his hands. "I can't remember… when was the last time I told him I loved him? He knew I did, of course, but the last time I actually told him… what if he didn't really know? I did love him, but he… What am I going to do?"

"Live," Tohma said, suddenly fierce. He gripped Yuki's hands firmly, forcing the younger blonde to look up at him. "I know what you're thinking, and I'm telling you, he'd want you to live. He chased you all the way to New York just to have you look at his song! If you didn't live, I'm sure he'd chase you to Hell."

"But I was living for him," Yuki murmured, leaning forward to rest his head on Tohma's shoulder. The elder blonde released Yuki's hands and rubbed his shoulders soothingly, offering him the comfort he so desperately needed. "Without him, what is there?"

"His memory," Tohma informed him, voice strong and sure. "Live for that, if nothing else. He'd be very sad if you didn't."

Yuki looked up at his old friend, gauging his expression and weighing it in his mind. After a moment he smiled, a sad broken thing that nonetheless was genuine."Thanks," he whispered.