"You killed my baby!" I opened my eyes quickly, disoriented and surrounded by utter darkness. I retrieved my cell phone from beneath my pillow, its soft light illuminating my surroundings. It was just past two, and I'd been asleep for almost two hours. I wasn't much worried about that as I adjusted my scrubs and pulled my long, rather tangled curly locks into a messy ponytail. I swiftly opened the on call room door, and the sound of sobbing instantly flooded my senses. I set a fast pace down the hall, to the right and toward the woman crying on the floor. Kneeling beside her, Yukina was rubbing her hair and attempting to console her. Our eyes met across the room, and I could see the desperation in them.
I settled myself beside the woman, and gently touched her shoulder. I had to bite my lip from crying out. So much guilt and so much sadness, it was almost too much for me. When she finally looked over at me, the last of her tears falling down her face, I managed to compose myself. "It's okay now, Mrs. Whittemore." I forced out as easily as I could. "You're going to say goodbye to your son now. Take all the time you need." I glanced down at the ring upon her finger. "I will have someone contact your husband. Is that okay?"
She nodded her head numbly and agreed with a soft, "yes." I released her, trying to hide the fact that my hand was trembling and gave the warmest smile I could muster. On the inside I felt like I was being ripped apart. My heart clenched painfully, my head was throbbing and if I allowed myself to focus on it at all, I would break down right now.
"Rhiannon," Yukina's soft voice was comforting, a light in the darkness. I leaned into her touch. "You're burning up."
"I'm fine," I murmured . "I haven't been feeling well is all."
If she made to respond I would never know because not a moment later a strong hand wrapped itself firmly but gently around my arm. I glanced up at Samantha, instantly relieved and confused all at once. I was pulled into the bathroom down the hall where I fell into a stall and instantly heaved. Samantha was pulling my hair back and rubbing me soothingly, tell me how stupid I was. And I really fucking was. I was grateful as I would ever be that Yukina hadn't followed.
I wiped my mouth and sat back. My head was throbbing now and my stomach still in knots. Samantha eyed me wearily and angrily and as much as I knew she wanted to yell, she just remained silent as she stood up to retrieve a few paper towels and wet them with warm water. She handed them to me and I wiped my mouth gingerly.
"I didn't know what else to do," I admitted. Because it was the truth.
She said nothing and that bothered me even more. I wanted her mad at me. The silence was eating at me. Just say what you mean; "you're a damned idiot! Out of your mind! Fucking insane!" Instead this is what happened. She smiled at me, clearly feeling defeated and said, "I think you need to go home."
All I could do was agree.
oOo
"You're mad." That much was obvious.
Samantha glanced over at Rhiannon, flipping on her blinker at the red light. Outside it was snowing, but there was still a bitter chill in the air; uncomfortable and settling around them like the elephant in the room. She always hated the snow, but tonight, in the moment, it couldn't be more comforting.
"I'm not mad," Samantha admonished. "I'm pissed."
"I'm sorry."
"I don't think that word means what you think it means. Sorry means I won't do it again."
She was right, of course. Rhiannon excelled in the 'not learning' department. Arguing was a pointless affair and one she had no energy to contend with. After a few long moments of silence she turned her gaze to Samantha to tell her that this time was different. This time she meant it. Because she did. Instead, bright lights blinded her, Samantha gasped and turned the wheel but it was too late. Everything happened at once: the sound of metal hitting metal, glass breaking when her head smashed into the window. Samantha crying out and blackness. An all consuming and unwelcoming darkness.
I opened my eyes hesitantly and with great effort. The moment I did my body began to ache. Dull at first, but the pain quickly became an inferno: unstoppable and angry. I was dizzy laying against the cool floor, a fresh blanket of snow still falling around me. A small movement, glass grinding against my already broken body; I cried. I couldn't think past the moment, could barely breathe through it and in the back of my mind I can still hear Samantha screaming. Such a god awful sound and Jesus I need to vomit. Breathe, I told myself. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It took great effort, but the nausea subsided some.
I tried to recall bits and pieces of how I got here. Samantha was screaming...I unbuckled my seat belt to push her back into her seat. She always hated that fucking thing, but the effort was straining and the throbbing ache in my head was only getting worse. I was concussed, I think. I pushed myself up, wavering unsteadily on my elbows. Vertigo was quickly becoming the object of my discomfort. My once vibrant hair was no tarnished in soot and debris and clung to the snow laden floor, plastered there by my blood. Dear God, there was so much blood. I dry heaved and cried because the pain was unrelenting. It was violent and it was killing me.
"Samantha," I tried, but my voice was in tatters from the smoke inhalation. Every breath was a reminder that my lungs were burning from the inside out. Someone had thrown me into the fire and left me there. Unable to hold myself any longer I fell forward. The world stopped spinning. A welcome reprieve.
But it was short lived and I was being pulled to my feet in a less than gentle manner. I cling to soft fabric, my knees buckling beneath me. "Do you know your name?" His voice pulled me back into the light, but my body protested and my mind tried to shut down. I let my eyes droop, but they were forced open again by a warm hand against the back of my neck, goading my delirious gaze into the eyes of a stranger. A handsome stranger, I think. But I was concussed and my judgment obviously impaired and his eyes were so red... they were so red... He shook me softly and asked again. My mouth was dry, my body heavy, all rational thought a distant memory. And speaking of distance, the sirens grew closer. All I could see was him.
And like a shot of too much morphine, the burning sensation traveled down my head, to my spine and into my toes. My eyes wouldn't stay open, and as he cradled me in his arms and the cool air rushed against my hot face, now leaning against his sturdy shoulder, nothing mattered anymore.
In the end, death was painless.
oOo
Rhiannon opened her eyes to the heavy scent of coffee. She felt warm, but the burning was gone. Replaced by an uncomfortable soreness that resonated throughout her body. A cool breeze brought in by the open window above her bed, and in that moment she was in high alert. She sat up quickly, jarring old wounds she forgot existed. Outside the sun was shining and the birds were chirping and the very green trees were swaying in the cliché wind. This was no Seattle. This was not her home. Gingerly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. These were definitely not her clothes, but the fit was just right. She tried not to dwell on it.
She stood, battling through the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her. She was alive. She should have felt grateful, happy even, but nothing about this felt right. What little of her body showed through her long t-shirt and black leggings was bandaged. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was freshly cleaned and brushed and pulled messily into a french braid. Unease filled her. Samantha didn't know how to french braid and even if she did she would never. There was only one person who had ever done this for her, some late night shift what seemed like months ago now.
And when the door opened, she stood like a bright star outside it. "I'm so glad to see you awake, Rhiannon."
Rhiannon blinked, staring into those familiar red eyes. Memories pushed to the forefront of her mind and she stumbled back into the nightstand behind her, hand held gingerly to her head. She grit her teeth and reached for an anchor, her hands finding purchase on two arms that weren't there before. A cool hand against her head helped ease the onslaught. "You still have a low grade fever. Perhaps you should rest more?"
Rhiannon pushed back against Yukina firmly but gently with no real effort, but thankful all the same that Yukina didn't fight back. I wasn't in her nature. It wasn't in Rhiannon's either truthfully.
"Where – where am I?"
Yukina watched her carefully. "Somewhere safe." Rhiannon waited for her to elaborate. "Koenma-sama has brought you to Japan." She finished.
Rhiannon slumped to the floor. Fucking Christ! She expected another state, not an ocean away from home! She sucked in air quickly, hyperventilating and becoming more exhausted by the moment. Yukina entered her line of sight, demanding her attention without really asking for it. She touched her arm gently and Rhiannon leaned against her, feeling relaxed and stable.
"What did you do to me?" Her voice was low and sleep laden. Unconscious thought would be welcome in this moment.
"I just helped you relax. I was worried you would hurt yourself more. Rhiannon, I have only just begun to finishing healing your body. You were dying when..." Sweet Yukina; kind, caring Yukina who couldn't finish the thought. "Would you like me to help you back into bed?"
She shook her head against Yukina's shoulder. "Please, why am I here?"
Yukina pulled back and helped Rhiannon to her feet slowly. "I am no at liberty to say. But I can take you to someone who can answer your questions if you're feeling up to it?"
At the bottom of the steps, Rhiannon stopped Yukin because she needed to know just how deep she was into this...she needed to know if she could even trust her. But Yukina stopped her before Rhiannon could even form a proper sentence, with a chaste but gentle squeeze to her arm. "We will talk later." She promised. Like she would even be here later, she wanted to say, but the truth was more in Yukina's favor than her own. She walked forward without Yukina into a nicely lit dining area. At the table a familiar face greeted her, and her stomach turned with unease.
"Do you remember me?" He asks.
She's five years old again, playing in the backyard. Inside, she can hear her mother screaming.
"I've tried to forget," she admits.
I'll never forgive you!
Koenma motions for her to sit, but she remains standing anyway.
"You were so young," he begins, but Rhiannon is emotional. It's hard for her to stop this train wreck.
You killed my husband!
"I was five. My mother dropped me off on my uncles doorstep and shot herself."
He winces noticeably. All these years didn't erase the wrong he'd done, and years spent trying to make it right only reminded him exactly where he went wrong to begin with.
"I was only five, but I wasn't stupid."
He wanted to tell her that he understood. He's watched her everyday since the. She's grown, and looking at her now, she's the spitting image of her beautiful mother. A soft face with defined features, and the deepest shade of red hair. Imogen would be proud.
"You're right." He conceded. Because she was right. "Do you need to talk about it?" He needed her focused and it was clear she needed closure. He doubted he could give it, but he would try.
"Why am I here?" She asks again, arms crossed over her chest but her body is exhausted and it's easy to tell this close.
He wants to demand she sit but instead he says, "I need your help."
She would be shocked if she wasn't already. In shock more like it. Fuck, the burning was back.
I'll never forgive you!
She was only five...
"No."
That was easy.
He expected it. She made to leave but he stopped her dead with five simple words. "So much like your mother."
She turned vehemently, fire behind those ocean eyes. She stood against the other side of the table, fuming, him within arms reach but never reaching out. "You don't get to talk about my mother!"
She can't continue like this.
"You're mad. I get it. But there's a bigger picture here and I need you to see it."
"Not mad. Not yet," she warned.
"And now I see your father; stubborn as ever." The glass narrowly avoided his head and it was fortunate for him that her aim was shaky. He was like a deer in the headlights, lost in the moment, the only sound that of shattering glass upon wooden cabinets. The read head at the door stood uncertain. Koenma finally glanced over at him, a silent plea to leave. "Are you done?"
Rhiannon slumped into a chair. Finally...
The silence between them was thick and overwhelming. He didn't know where to start. Rhiannon was complicated. He glanced down at the ring on her finger. "You never took it off.," he observes. "Weren't you even the least bit curious?"
She glared at him, so done playing this fucking game. "I saw what being who I am did to my parents. I wanted a normal life, with normal friends and a normal job."
But Rhiannon was so much more than normal.
"I thought being the last of your ind would make you less reckless." Was this a lecture? "You get that from your father. Maybe I should have done a better job watching over you. In any case, it doesn't matter anymore."
She said nothing.
"You must know that you are a last resort. I want nothing more than you o live your life happily, in ignorant bliss, but this is not an option anymore. I need your help, Rhiannon."
"Why?"
"Do you know who killed your father?"
You.
But she didn't say that, because deep down she knew that wasn't the truth. The monster she spent her life running from was not Keonma.
"Rhiannon, do you know anything about your lineage?"
"Obviously not much. Are you done being evasive?" She asked, annoyed now more than angry.
"I can teach you, if you want." His offer was genuine, almost pleading but Rhiannon couldn't stomach the thought. Knowing her heritage only made it that much more real. It made it hard to disregard. It made it hard to pretend. "Maybe one day, when you're feeling more yourself. For now, all that you need to know is Lucien is very much alive."
Her stomach churned, her mouth was dry, and right now gravity was the only thing keeping her from up-heaving the entire contents of her stomach onto the floor beneath her. She stared past Keonma, because she couldn't stand to look at him. "And what is it that you need from me?"
He was going to ask her to remover her ring. He was going to ask her to sacrifice for the greater good, to die for people who would NEVER die for her. Oh Gods, she missed Samantha. She needed to feel her warm touch against her face.
"I need you to trust me." Her eyes settled on him, full of tears she was trying not to cry. Lies. All of it was lies. She stood roughly to her feet, knocking the chair back as she did so.
"You're a fucking liar! Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie! You want to know what I'm capable of so bad? I'll show you, you shit eating bastard!" Whatever he had been about to say went unheard as she attempted to wrench the ring from her finger. The sudden jolt of electricity consumed and subdued her. Was that her screaming? She couldn't feel her body anymore, but inside she was ablaze.
"I know it hurts. I'm so sorry." Yukina's voice filtered through her senses. Even her gently cooling touch was too much sensation and all coherent thought became a repetition of 'please no' and 'please stop'. "You should have warned her." Rhiannon wasn't sure she'd ever heard Yukina sound so angry before.
"I didn't realize she would try," Koenma declared. Truthfully, neither did she. Her unfocused eyes settled on his still form. "You can't remove your ring right now, Rhiannon." She was fading quickly. "Your spirit energy is practically nothing. It took much loner to find you then it should have... If you take your ring off now, the beast will consume you."
Like it did my father.
Conscious thought was fleeting now and when she opened her eyes again it was to emerald pools, gazing softly into her own. Such a soft disposition, what a beautiful soul. But if she'd looked hard enough she would see it; the barest hint something dangerous. It would eat her alive. She felt him gingerly maneuver his arms beneath her body, lifting her up off the floor. "You're safe," she thought she heard.
Sleep followed.
Well, what do you think? I've been sitting on this story for a while now. This is obviously M rated, and while I'm not entirly sure how much that will entail, it is enough at this point to warrant this rating. Shoot me a review, write me a PM. I am grateful for you all.
This is 100% un-beta'd so I apologize ahead of time for any spelling errors I may make! I obviously don't own these characters, or I wouldn't be writing shameless smut stories (just kidding totally would)! In case no one noticed, I am prone to switching perspectives and will likely do it throughout the story. Hope that doesn't bother anyone!
