Warnings; LOTS OF SPOILERS and speculation. And spoilers. And boysex. BE WARNED.

NOTE: parts in these italics are flashbacks.

Just a random idea that came to me. Apologies for the oocness and everything else that is flawed. This was mostly just for fun and to get the writing juices flowing if you will. Also, this is dedicated to my darling Kamixyu. Why? Because she told me not to do this. So here you go, dear. Be even more confused about your One True Pairing~

Not Meant to Be

"It's young love at its finest, isn't it?"

Break's sitting at the table out on the balcony, feet propped up and a cup of tea in his hands. His right eye is closed and a wistful smile is on his face. Things are peaceful. Standing against the edging of the balcony is Gilbert, arms folded to his chest. He's staring out on the bustling town. It's early in the morning and already people are escaping their humble abodes to shop and continue on with life. Unaware of the darkness that lingers in every corner, every house, every inch of the land. So blissfully unaware—Gilbert often wishes he was one of those people. Often wishes he and his master were among that ignorant group.

"What are you talking about?" Gilbert asks, his voice hoarse. He's already annoyed; it doesn't take much.

"Miss Sharon and Master Oz," Break explains, a soft hum leaving his lips. He cracks open his eye and inspects the slight pink on the Nightray's face. "Oh? You haven't noticed?"

Gilbert doesn't answer, hand on the top of the edge of the balcony. He stares out at the city. After a moment, he scoffs. "Isn't she a bit too old for him?" he murmurs, arms falling into a shrug.

Break snickers and closes his eye once more. "Oh? And you aren't?"

Gilbert nearly chokes on his breath. The pink transforms into a hot red. "Excuse me?" he all but barks.

"Nothing, nothing, little black bird," Break explains, waving his hand dismissively, as if shooing away the teasing jest.

"…Insufferable asshole," Gilbert curses under his breath, eyes narrowed. He looks back out on the town, heart clenching and mind a bit fuzzy.

Oz is still asleep, as is Sharon and Alice. He and Break are usually the first to awake. These little morning chats usually occur, and Break always seems to find something to poke fun at it. It grates Gilbert. It annoys him half to death. But he puts up with it. He owes Break, doesn't he? But is it all in vain? Is it?

"You seem oddly pensive this morning," Break notices, reaching for a candy.

Gilbert makes an incoherent noise and doesn't respond.

Break sits up and undoes the wrapper of said candy, a lilting tone to his voice, "What ever could be on that tricky mind of yours, Raven?"

Gilbert doesn't respond—his mind is an abyss, more than the pitch black, empty world he knows far too well.


"You're a very special person to me, Gil."

Jack watches him, hand tracing over the small of the young boy's back. He offers a benevolent grin as he brings him into a brief hug. It's safe, it's warm, it's comforting.

"Don't ever forget that."

Gilbert fumbles, dropping the box he had been holding. He's flustered but it's okay. He leans into the embrace, still quite embarrassed, but pleased. "I…I won't forget, Master…"

"Good." Jack pulls back, a grin on his face as he ruffles the young boy's face. He chuckles, hands coming to rest on his hips. "So, you still up for finding that secret fort I heard about nearby?"

Gilbert thinks for a minute. "But didn't y-your father said we –"

"I know what father said," Jack says and leans closer, the grin still on his face. It's bold and it's beautiful. "But we can pretend we don't remember, huh?"

Gilbert flushes. Jack's breath tickles his face and he gulps, nodding feverishly. "….Of course!..."

Jack chuckles and lays a quick kiss to the young boy's lips before pulling back. "Then let's go, huh?"


"Hey, Gil?"

Gilbert glances to the right, in the midst of reading a letter from Pandora Break had given him to glance over. He arches a brow and waits for Oz to continue, giving the boy his undivided attention. At least for now. It's hard to focus on anything as of lately. What with the Baskervilles running amuck and constantly trying to use Oz for their own bidding. Everything is so damn confusing and frustrating and it's hard to keep hold of sanity in such a trying time. But Oz manages it. Gilbert has to admire him for it.

"Do you think there's a heaven?"

Gilbert's jaw slacks. There's an abyss, so why the hell not? "I suppose," he murmurs, distracting himself with the letter again; the topic unnerves him.

"Hm…I bet there is," Oz concludes and laces his hands behind his head. "And we'll all end up there someday. You know, the five of us," he continues, eyes shutting. He's, at that point, pretty much taken over Gilbert's bed, snuggled up in the blankets.

Gilbert winces—he highly doubts that. He isn't going to heaven if one exists. Neither is Break. Perhaps Sharon and Alice, but not him. He knows that for a fact.

He's killed.

He's hurt.

He's lied, betrayed, cheated, and committed far too many sins for one lifetime.

"Do you think we'll have wings?" Oz grins, cracking open an eye. He swings his legs out of boredom in the air, watching Gilbert pretend to work. They both know he isn't. They don't say anything about the white lie.

"…I don't know, Oz," Gilbert answers with an apathetic shrug and tries to focus on the messy handwriting. "I guess."

"I bet Alice would look so cute with them," Oz sighs happily, as if the world isn't in turmoil. As if he's just a normal boy. "And Gil would have big black wings like a real raven."

Gilbert spares him another glance. He catches the mischievous look on his master's face and he turns a hue of red. "That's…" he begins in a grumble.

"Yeah….Gil definitely would," Oz concludes and that's that.

He isn't going to heaven, why does it even matter?

"….Of course, Oz."


His hands are pressed down against the plush comforter, eyes wide, breaths heavy. His lips part to speak, to say anything but no words come out. He's lost in a sea of green and he blushes. He looks away after a moment, utterly embarrassed. His heart is thudding loudly not only in his chest but in his ears. He's half-clothed, shirt unbuttoned down to his naval. His fingers curl inward towards his palms, refusing to move away from the stronger, paler, larger ones that hold his in place. It's a sinful balance.

"Relax, Gil," Jack whispers with a grin on his face, long blonde bangs strewn messily in his face. "You trust me, right?" He laughs, the noise echoing warmly off the walls.

"O…Of course, Master," Gilbert whispers back, face on fire. He nods feverishly and closes his eyes tightly, squirming slightly. The hands that held his in place begin to drift down along his small, fragile arms, towards his shoulders and then along his bare chest. He gasps, head tipping back a fraction. The young servant boy gasps a second time, messy black hair clinging to his face, laced in a thin film of sweat.

"Relax," the older repeats, voice so kind that it's hard to even be nervous, even when he's touching him there and oh good god, is that a moan?—


"I…I could have saved her."

Oz is laughing weakly; laughing at his own weakness. He stares dejectedly out the window from across the room. His knees are pulled tightly to his chest, chin resting on them. He's aware that Gilbert is in the room—hell, he's even talking to him. But he refuses to acknowledge that he's being weak in front of him. Even though Gilbert is his best friend—his most special person apart from Alice—he won't let anyone see him cry. Not after all these years. So his laughs are his shield. That's all.

"…Oz," Gilbert attempts, voice rougher than intended. He recoils, gaze dropping to the floor. "You could have been hurt."

"Ha….maybe it would have been for the best." Oz shrugs and closes his eyes. "How many people do I have to see die, Gil? Taken by the abyss because of illegal contracts? This is the…fourth, isn't it? I think I've lost count…"

Gilbert passes across the room. In an instant, his hands are on Oz's shoulders. He's starting down at the blond, fire in his usually passive, conflicted golden eyes. "Don't say that."

Oz opens his eyes, distant and disconnected. "…Gil doesn't need to say that," he begins, reaching up to lightly bat the oddly comforting hands away. "Gil doesn't need to keep protecting me. He has a life, doesn't he? He must. I must just be a burden."

Gilbert grits his teeth together. "Damnit Oz, we've been through this. You're!..."

Oz tilts his head a fraction. "I'm what, Gil?"

Gilbert deflates, staring at Oz. "….You're…" he begins again, losing all focus and concentration.

"What did Gil want to say?"

"I told you I'd be by your side forever and I'm not going to break that promise," Gilbert begins, growing irritable, but is stopped.

Oz is laughing quietly again, almost a bit sadly. "Gil needs to start caring more about himself and not someone who is just going to end up hurting everyone in the—"


A soft snap resonates through the room. Gilbert's eyes widen and he stumbles back, holding his hand in the air in horror. His face goes pale and his heart stops beating. His stomach drops and he stares at his master, throat dry and unable to breathe. Oz, on the other hand, is rubbing his now red cheek. His tongue absently comes out to lick his lips thoughtfully. He closes his eyes and laughs again, the initial shock fading from his face.

"I suppose I deserved that," Oz concludes and inhales deeply.

"…Oz…" Gilbert looks away, utterly ashamed.


"…I'll go," Gilbert murmurs and leaves the room before he can do any more harm.

It's always an uphill battle with Oz, isn't it?


"You've come far, Gilbert…."

Gilbert opens his eyes, taking in the darkness. It engulfs him, licks at his sides, and welcomes him. He shifts, surprised to find a solid form beside him. He's in the abyss, in a dimension of it, but he can't remember why. He blearily tries to focus, noting the long golden braid to the left of his vision. Oh. That's right.


"It's okay not to remember, Gilbert," Jack begins with a good-natured shrug. "As long as you're safe," he concludes.

Gilbert's head throbs and he tries to sit up. "….Damnit, where's Oz?"

Jack's face is a bit nostalgic. "…He's safe, resting. Alice put a lot of strain on him today."

"…I see," Gilbert murmurs and reaches up to feel his head, feeling a bit queasy. "…What?"

Jack is staring at him, a smile still on his face. He doesn't respond and shakes his head. "He's a special master to you, isn't he?"

"….Of course he is," Gilbert answers defensively and almost huffs but holds it back. He shifts away from Jack, not quite appreciating how close they are. His gaze drifts to the darkness of the abyss. "I'll do anything to protect him…"

"….That's good to know," Jack decides and continues smiling. "…Oz needs someone like that."

Gilbert looks back, questions filling in his head. There's something nostalgic about the way Jack is smiling, about the way he's talking ever so softly, about the way he says his name. It's almost as if he wants to call him Gil. As if…. But before Gilbert can question it, Jack's gone and he's falling. He's falling into the darkness.

Hand outstretched.

Back into consciousness.


He isn't sure how they ended up this way.

Oz in his bed, he means.

It's late and Oz is practically snuggled up against his side, breathing in and out like a cat. He doesn't make the comparison in his conscious, though. He'd probably be scarred for life. He's too busy watching the young Bezarius slumber, curled up in the blankets, so damn close. His hearts pangs, almost gleefully, and yet painfully. So close and yet so far, he concludes.

His hand reaches out into the dark, lingering over Oz's slender form. His fingers touch the boy's side, just lingering there for a few moments. He can't will himself to press his palm down. Instead, his fingertips caress the area, shivering at the feel of the soft fabric against his own skin. A soft sigh escapes Gilbert, mind completely at ease, despite the subconscious turmoil he's suppressed the past few months.

Oz stirs awake, green eyes opening in the darkness. "…If Gil wants to hold me he can~"

Gilbert's face goes through an array of colours. He gulps and withdraws his hand, though not entirely. "Oz…I wasn't!..."

"Ah….don't worry, Gil." Oz smiles and shifts closer, bumping his head right against the older's chest. He closes his eyes and inhales, leaving Gilbert a flustered mess. "I don't mind, really."

Gilbert's throat is tight again and his hands are suddenly sweaty. "…It's…"

Oz is already fast asleep before Gilbert can get out a coherent response.

Maybe it's for the best, he decides.

Even such, he can't will himself to hold the young boy, even with the verbal okay. Because, for some reason, he feels guilty. Jaded.



Gilbert falls to his knees, head throbbing and mind swirling in a mess of memories. Painful. So painful. He's swearing and trying to will the images of Sabrie away. He can see the image of his younger self in the distance. He can see Vincent and Alice and Glen and Jack and—

"It's painful, isn't it?" comes a soft voice whispered in his ear.

Gilbert doesn't move, hands pressing over his ears. He's trying to block it all out. His head is cast downward and he looks absolutely pitiable.

"It's okay, Gil," coos the voice and suddenly there's a pair of warm hands on top of his own. They gently pull his own hands down, away from his ears. They don't let go, and instead gently hold his trembling ones. They're soft, but not too soft, not like Oz's, but they're familiar. So familiar and—

"Jack…" he guesses, the memories a flood unable to be dammed. He's so embarrassed, ashamed, and guilty.

"Do you regret it?" Jack wonders, words still softly spoken words into his ear. "My best friend, do you regret it?..."

Gilbert can't answer because the words are hot puffs on his sensitive ear, making him shiver, tremble, and breath hard.

"You don't have to lie. I know you're too noble to offend anyone," there's that chuckle and then there's, "so answer me this; do you regret what we did? Knowing your past? Knowing this much?"

There's more, isn't there? There's something he's done. Something bad. Something that Jack wants to hide. Something worse than sleeping with his master? Something worse than this adultery?


"Sh," Jack concludes, lips touching Gilbert's ear with each and every word, "it doesn't matter. It's in the past, isn't it?" Jack grins, Gilbert can feel it against his skin. He shudders. "As long as you won't regret it with him."

Gilbert's eyes widen and he feels like he's falling. Falling so far down.

In a sea of sin.


"You seem to be more on edge than usual," Break notices one day. He's noticed how Gilbert is purposely avoiding all physical contact with Oz—no more affectionate hair ruffles, no more excessive touching, no more uncalled for brushes of hands. It's bizarre. He has to comment; it's just his nature.

"…Excuse me?" Gilbert murmurs as he takes a drag from his cigarette, watching Sharon and Oz from across the room.

They're at a party. A party hosted by Pandora to celebrate the advancements they have made. The discoveries and the return of Jack Bezarius and Gilbert just doesn't see why a aprty is in order. It's crude and uncalled for and just degrading. Oz is going to die, taken by the abyss, and they're celebrating. Throwing a damn party. It makes no sense.

"Around Young Master Oz," Breaks explains and Emily chirps in concurrence.

Gilbert stiffens. "You're looking too much into this," he responds gruffly.

"I wonder," Break answers and glances to the Sharon and Oz. They're dancing and Oz is laughing. He looks happy.

Gilbert notices this as well. He feels sick to his stomach. He can't give that kind of happiness to Oz.

"I wonder how long you will deprive yourself of something you've desperately grasped for for so long."

Gilbert scoffs, mutters a slew of curses, and goes to fetch himself something to drink, calling Break an insufferable idiot who knows nothing along the way. The truth? The truth is, Break's right. Dead right. He's hit the nail on the head.

It's not fair.


"You need to stay strong for him."

Jack's frowning, actually frowning, and reprimanding Gilbert. The Nightray is sitting dejectedly, gawking at the nothingness. This small piece of time and space, where he can make contact with fragments of Jack's soul, long since departed, is heaven to him. Perhaps he could tell Oz heaven does exist. Exist within hell.

"I don't deserve him," Gilbert decides in a weak chuckle. "Damnit I don't deserve him."

Jack rolls his eyes and kneels before Gilbert, the smile back. He extends his hand and brings it to Gilbert's face. He cups the distant man's cheek and tilts his head up. Green meets gold and the Bezarius says nothing for a long moment. "If anyone deserves him, it's you. You're extremely loyal. You've stayed by his side all these years. Don't throw all that away."

Gilbert looks away. Things are becoming too difficult. Too much is happening and Sabrie is falling down on him and he knows he's going to learn the truth soon. Everyone is on edge and things are slowly beginning to crumble. All the pieces are slowly falling into place, one by one, and—

"Don't regret it with him."

And for some reason, somehow, someway, they're suddenly tangled up in each other. It's a desperate race to try and remove each other's clothes. Their lips are everywhere and hands are becoming familiar, refamiliar, with forgotten skin, beloved skin, soft skin. Their hot breaths, so foreign, are mingling and it's a fight for dominance. Lips clash and there's wetness and comfort and pain and pleasure.

There's moans and gasps and—and Jack is moving closer and laying his lips upon every single part of his skin. His shoulders, his hands, his neck, and good god his hips and…and his inner thighs and—

And when he cries out in desire, wicked, sinful, desperate desire, he knows he's betrayed Oz again. This time, far more than usual. He wonders if Oz knows. If Oz knows what is said between the pair.

And as he comes, hard and fast and in a blissful fray of past sins, it isn't Jack's name that leaves his lips in a deep, long, lingering moan.

It's Oz's.


The party ends and Pandora has offered them all rooms for the night. It's storming and returning back is out of the question. Oz has already changed into his night clothes, Break gone to bed early for once, and Sharon off somewhere in the headquarters to discuss further matters. Gilbert's watching Oz out of the corner of his eye. He's watching the boy stare out the window, intrigued by the rain. Was it raining that faithful night? He can't remember anymore. The rain reminds him of Gilbert for some reason.

Oz glances over his shoulder and he offers Gilbert a soft smile. "Tonight was fun," he says in a hum.

"Yes," Gilbert responds as he reaches over to the nightstand to get a cigarette. He'll return to his own bedroom eventually. For some reason, he just needs to be with Oz right now. "…Alice nearly ate the entire buffet…"

"I thought it was cute," Oz argues with a soft whine and heads over to Gilbert. He steals the cigarette away before Gilbert can light it.

Gilbert almost pouts. Almost. "Oz, I was going to—"

"No smoking in here," Oz lectures and gives a shake in his head. "Besides, I don't want to share Gil with these…things." He gives a shrug and stuffs it into his pocket with a grin.

For some reason, Gilbert blushes at the sentiment.

"Then again, if Gil really wants to smoke," he begins again, walking across the room with a spring to his step. "I suppose he'll just have to get it back, hm?" He tosses his best friend a grin over his shoulder. Something ignites.

They both ignore the fact there's a barely touched pack on the nightstand.

Suddenly, Gilbert is close. He's so damn close. Oz has to look up to meet his gaze because he's so close. They don't say anything for a moment or too. By that point Oz is backed against the wall, a grin still on his face. It's mostly fake. He's nervous as hell and Gilbert has never been this close. He gulps and tilts his head. His breath hitches when Gilbert's hand is brushing over his side and then the slim pocket of his night clothes. He closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his soft skin. And is that a soft gasp?

Gilbert's fingers tease over the small white stick in the boy's pockets, golden eyes drenched in a mixture of feeling. He's trembling at this point, but determined. He gulps, followed by a gulp from Oz. His fingers curl around the cigarette, eyes still locked with Oz's. There's a spark, there's a definite spark, and Gilbert's heart is beating so loudly he's surprised Oz can't hear it. Or maybe he does and he just isn't remarking on it.

Gilbert's fingers let go of the cigarette but remain lightly buried in the pocket. He continues staring down at Oz. It's so peaceful and he doesn't want to break it. His heart beats faster and louder and he uses the hand that's in Oz's pocket to give a light push forward. And now he's gripping the young boy by his hip with that very same hand. His left reaches up, lingering in the space between them.

Oz closes his eyes for a second time; head tilted back a fraction for some reason.

Gilbert brings the hand to Oz's chest, fingertips grazing over the top button. He says nothing and watches as Oz's lips part, almost expectantly. There's a soft gasp and—

And Gilbert's restraint shatters.

His lips find Oz's immediately, desperate and devoted. He's begging for forgiveness. His hands still gripping Oz's hip tightly, keeping the boy secure against the wall, while his other begins undoing the youth's shirt. His mouth eagerly clashes with Oz which is just as enthusiastically moving. Soon there's tongue. Lots of it. Oz is making soft, adorable, needy noises into the meshing of lips. The boy is squirming and it makes Gilbert's kisses hotter, harder, and far more passionate.

It isn't long before his hands have completely done away with Oz's shirt. The blond's arms find refuge around Gilbert's neck, hooking tightly around the Nightray. When Gilbert breaks the kiss, Oz is breathing heavily, hotly, and still pressed tightly against the wall. He doesn't expect what happens next.

Gilbert's lips are against his neck. He lets out a surprised, but certainly not unpleased, noise. There's a small grin on Oz's face at this point as he tips his head back, entire body blushing. One of his hands finds a home in Gilbert's soft tresses while the other remains around his friend's neck. Gilbert's lips continue to ravage his neck, causing him to occasionally gasp out, shudder, and press even closer. His legs are starting to feel like jello and Gilbert's hands are becoming impatient.

Somewhere between the moans and the pleas and the sweet nothings, they end up on the bed. Gilbert's fumbling, as per usual due to his submissive nature, but he's oddly dominant in this situation. His hands are gliding so gracefully along Oz's sides, savoring how Oz twists and turns with each caress. His gasps and moans are in unison with Oz's eventually, the amount of clothing next to nothing.

Oz isn't sure how many times he whispers his best friend's name, or how much he smiles, or even if he's told Gilbert just how much he means to him, but he figures he must know. After all…how could he not? How could he not realize it as he presses into the inviting mouth that has suddenly touched his most sensitive area? How could he not when he's bringing him to brink of ecstasy flawlessly? How could he not when the usually prideful and cheerful Oz Bezarius is all but begging his best friend for release? How could he not when he's allowing himself to be explored, kissed, touched, taken by a Nightray?

How could he not?

And Oz can't bring himself to tell Gilbert that he knows. That he knows and saw everything.

That he knows Gilbert is on the brink of suicide itself.


"I killed her…."

"No, your brother did."

"Jack, I killed her," Gilbert croaks out, body and mind weak as he clutches at the fabric over his own heart. It's hard to breathe and his life is suddenly countless shades darker. "Vincent…Vince didn't kill Alice. No….I did. He….he tried to protect me…he killed them all….Glen told everyone to and—and—" He chokes.

Jack knows Gilbert's breaking. He can see it in his eyes. "That's in the past, Gil….Don't let that—"

"I don't deserve him," Gilbert states emptily, a broken look to his eyes. He's spiraling into madness and he can't breathe and all he can see is red! Red and blood and red and blood and-

"…That's not true."

"I killed her!" he hollers into the nothingness that surround him. He killed Alice. He killed her and he was selfish and twisted and he still is and nothing is making sense. He doesn't deserve Jack or Oz or Break or anyone, really. He's just a selfish little boy who kills to get what he wants. Who doesn't have any morals. He's just as mad as the rest of them. It's a mad world and he's a component.

Jack closes his eyes. And he's actually crying beneath those eyelids, the only proof being a solitary tear sliding down his face. "…I know, Gilbert," he whispers and shakes his head. "…But you saved him."

Gilbert doesn't know what to say.


Oz is curled up against Gilbert, his breathing finally evening out. He's feigning sleep, figuring that that's what people are supposed to do after sex, right? Sleep and rest and just enjoy the other person's warmth as they find more peace in sleep. But he can't sleep. Not with the burden of everything he knows. After all, he's connected to Jack and he's seen it all. The kisses and the words and the night before's near suicide in the darkness of the night where they probably thought no one saw. It hurts and it stings and he knows if he doesn't do something the last fragment of home is going to be ripped from him.

No….Gilbert is home.

He can't let that be taken from him.

Oz realizes belatedly that the top of his head is suddenly wet. The boy blinks, uncertain as to why. It takes him a moment to associate the stifled, choked sobs with the wetness.

When no one is thought to be looking, Gilbert's crying.

Oz's heart nearly breaks.

A soft sigh escapes the Bezarius as he shifts, ceasing his act. He knows it's going to be hard to accept what Gil has done in the past—but the past is the past, isn't it? The Gilbert he knew, Gil, was reborn the day he arrived in the gardens. He can't let his Gil fall apart.

"Gil…don't cry," Oz says with a forced smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss on the unsuspecting man's lips. He breaks it and tries to find Gilbert's eyes in the darkness.

Gilbert doesn't know what to say.

"….I know," Oz decides. He hadn't wanted to tell him, really didn't want to, but he had to. He really really had to.

Gilbert tenses. Should he run? Should he be sorry? Should he start his apologies now or later? "…Oz…." He feels like a traitor, down to the last letter. He figures Oz knows it all—how could he have been so stupid and blind and just…damnit.

"It's okay, Gil," Oz assures and snuggles closer, a nostalgic smile on his lips. "It's okay because… Gil is Gil. And that's not going to change." He gives a small nod and he tries his best not to cry. "…And I love Gil," he concludes. "….Gil's home."


Jack was wrong.

He hadn't saved Oz—Alice had done that.

"It's okay, Gil….It's really okay."

Jack was wrong—he didn't deserve Oz.

"How can you say that…How can you know?" a murmur.

Jack was so wrong…

"Because I'm me, remember?"

Perhaps he didn't deserve Oz, but that didn't matter. He would never deserve him, but for some reason, it didn't matter. Oz didn't care about it. Oz didn't dwell on it.

"….Oz…" A broken, hopeful smile.

"Tomorrow's always going to be there."

Jack was wrong, he hadn't saved Oz—Oz saved him.