Disclaimer: I do not own FAKE. It belongs to Sanomi Matoh. I do not profit financially from writing this story.
Warnings: Dark themes, character death, violence, language, implied situations, yaoi. (It's FAKE. It's naturally yaoi.)
Full summary: The world has entered a time of darkness, chaos, and ruin, though Ryo isn't sure how or why. His thoughts are on finding the ones he cares about first. In finding them, he hopes to learn the truth and to remember the things that he can't.
Rating: M for above warnings
Author's Note: Feeling dark right now with my fiction. Also, just so everyone knows, I'm going to be avoiding writing lemons as much as possible. There are more to stories than just the potential for smut.
Enjoy!
Smoke, black and acrid, rose towards the heavens. It stung at the eyes and choked anyone unfortunate enough to be close by it and inhale. Somewhere close by, fires burned and out of control at that. They added to the blackness filling the air and to the confusion.
And Ryo was confused. The last thing he recalled was sitting on the rooftop of Dee's apartment building, drinking a beer and talking to one of the neighbors. The sun had set, and the fireworks had started. As was their wont, he and Dee had drifted towards each other, their hands coming together, and they perched themselves along the edge of the roof. Carol and Bikky joined them, and they watched as the night sky lit up with bright flashes of red, blue, white, yellow, green, pink, and violet. The moment had been magical, special because Ryo had felt fireworks in both his heart and his mind when it came to Dee. No one else had ever inspired such profound and deep emotions within him, and he wanted the moment to last long into the morning hours.
He now crouched in the street, hiding behind a burnt out shell of a car and his gun in hand. His head ached and stung from the sweat stabbing at something near his temple, and he felt something dripping down the side of his face. Given his memory loss and the pain in his head, Ryo knew he was bleeding, even as he raised his hand to where his head pounded and checked. Upon seeing the blood on his fingers, he decided he needed to get to a hospital as quickly as possible.
'But first . . . I gotta find Dee, Bikky, and Carol,' he thought. 'I gotta make sure they're okay.'
Cautiously, he peered around the burnt car. A dark grey haze had descended over the city, mingling with the black smoke, and it obscured his vision. He couldn't see too far ahead of his current location. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sounds of gunshots, but, beyond that, he heard no other sounds of life. A cold sense of dread started to fill him as the realization hit him: no other sounds of life. He heard no screaming, no dogs barking, no moaning of the injured, no running feet in any direction . . . just the gunshots. If those were the only sounds, what did that mean for Dee, Bikky, and Carol? Were they still alive? Were they conscious?
The questions buzzed at him like flies, and he withdrew behind the car, rubbing at his eyes. His head still felt fuzzy, and he couldn't recall what had happened. Why was his area of the city in such ruins? That much was obvious to Ryo – burnt out cars, smoke and haze, fires burning, tore up concrete and asphalt . . . had they been attacked? That would explain his current predicament.
'Enough of this dallying!' Ryo scolded himself. 'Dee, Bikky, and Carol are out there somewhere, who knows in what kind of a condition. I've got to find them!'
Checking the safety on his gun, Ryo not only peered around the burnt out hunk of car, but he moved forward as well, heading west. He squinted as the smoke and haze stung at his eyes and his already parched throat. His thoughts, however, were solely on Dee, Bikky, and Carol, and their well-being. He never faltered as he walked forward.
The going itself wasn't precisely easy. Thanks to whatever had happened, large chunks of concrete and asphalt blocked Ryo's path. In some places, the two were completely gone, leaving pond-sized puddles of murky, mucky water. Ryo felt the water landing on his face, as if to ward him away, before he ever reached the pools, but the warnings still weren't enough to keep him from nearly falling into them and possibly drowning. Nearly every single pool of water reeked of sewage and death, and they were filled with the bodies of the dead – men, women, and children. Ryo couldn't see their faces, and he was glad that he couldn't as well. He didn't want to see the expressions on their lifeless faces. To see their faces would tell Ryo how they died, and he felt if he saw that, he'd fear the same fates had befallen Dee, Bikky, and Carol. He couldn't allow himself to think that way. He had to find them, had to find a place where they could stay and tend to any injuries they might have. He had to hold to the belief that they were alive. Anything else would destroy him.
Finding the pools of water weren't without advantage. The water coming down from the damaged fire hydrants was clean – Ryo had wiped away enough of it off of his face to know. It helped to ease his thirst and the pain caused by it, cooling him as it drenched him. How much use his gun would be later on was unclear to Ryo, but he at least had a way to keep himself hydrated as he searched for his family.
For how long he continued walking forward, always peering cautiously down alleys and into crumbling buildings and walking around the bodies of the dead, Ryo didn't know. He'd tried glancing at his watch, only to find the face smashed. Blood had covered his wrist so he'd discarded the now useless item. It felt as he'd walked along at a snail's pace for hours, but he knew that such a sensation was often deceiving. Something larger than what he could fully comprehend at the moment was at play, something that was dangerous and deadly. One wrong move, one moment of hesitation on his part, and everything he fretted over, everything he wanted to keep alive, whole, and pure would be gone. Where that innate knowledge emanated from, Ryo didn't know nor did he care. He believed it to be the truth, his cop's instincts kicking in, and that was all that mattered. Always in the distance were the sounds of gunshots. They never were any closer, though Ryo moved in their direction. That much he had determined.
He wasn't sure how far he'd traveled after regaining consciousness when the wound on his head decided to protest. Nausea, light-headedness, and pain threatened to overwhelm Ryo, and he stumbled over some blocks of concrete. Hunger gnawed at him, and he clutched at his belly. When he had last eaten? At the barbecue on the rooftop? The growling and protesting of his stomach seemed to confirm the thoughts, and Ryo gritted his teeth. He wanted to keep searching for Dee, Bikky, and Carol. He had to keep searching for them, but his pain and hunger were scattering his thoughts, forcing him to focus on himself.
"You work too hard," Dee had told him once. "When was the last time you ate anything? Got any sleep?"
"I'll sleep when that dirt bag is finally behind bars," Ryo had ground out.
"And not sleeping is going to let that dirt bag walk free," his partner murmured. Strong arms slid around his waist. "When you're hungry and tired, you make mistakes."
"Dee, I can't . . ."
"Yes, you can. You've got to eat something, rest a little bit . . . you'll feel better for it. I promise." Dee winked at him.
"Dee . . ."
"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer," came the reply. "Don't make me sic Bikky on you."
"You wouldn't." Ryo's eyes widened.
"Wanna bet?"
Green eyes lit with fire stared at him, daring him to find out if he was bluffing. Ryo's hand reached out and touched cool bricks, leaning against the structure as the memories flooded his mind. As much as he hated himself for what he was about to do next, he knew he also had very little choice. He could continue on and pass out from exhaustion before ever reaching his loved ones, or he could take a moment to tend to his injuries and find something to eat, to replenish his energy. Either decision would take time, time that slipped away from him like water over his fingers.
'But if I stop to find something to eat, to tend to my wounds, I can grab the things I'll need . . . in case any of them are hurt . . .'
Ryo blinked at the thought then almost laughed at himself for not realizing it sooner. Suddenly, the need to stop didn't seem nearly as atrocious as he originally deemed it. Pushing himself away from the building, Ryo glanced up. He knew he needed something that not only sold food but medical supplies. So far, every building he'd walked by and glanced inside had harbored nothing but shadows. Of course, the buildings had also been almost strictly residential – condos, apartment complexes . . . a couple had once been garages, places where people took their cars for repairs, but he'd not seen a speck of food in any of them. The one he currently stood next to offered no indication as to what it used to be before . . . whatever had happened had happened. There were some windows, all blackened from the smoke and haze and lack of power. Letters, smudged with dirt and smoke, adorned the glass, their original purpose obscured. Stumbling a little further along revealed the door, and Ryo entered the structure, his gun at the ready.
Nothing inside the building moved, but the air felt a little cooler than what did outside. The sickly sweet smell of rotting corpses hadn't penetrated the interior, and Ryo inhaled a deep breath. His mind cleared a little for the fresher, cooler air, and he relaxed a fraction as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Inside the building were there some shelves nearly as tall as Ryo and racks filled with clothing. Upon a closer inspection, he found himself in a sporting goods store, and he located a very large backpack. The find had him feeling giddy, and he giggled as he grabbed it, stuffing it with some knives, bottled water, and protein bars. While he rummaged around, scarfing down some of the protein bars, he found more weapons – bows, crossbows, pistols, and shotguns – and some sleeping bags, camping lanterns and batteries. He'd even tripped over a large Coleman cooler, and he filled that with even more water and protein bars. The kind of store he'd stumbled upon wasn't necessarily what he needed, but it still contained things he'd need later on for when he found Dee, Bikky, and Carol.
The weapons, not including the knives, were tricky. Ryo felt more comfortable with a gun in his hand, but, since he still didn't know what had happened to put his city into such a state of heavy ruin, carrying a gun of any kind would be effective only for so long. After several minutes of contemplation, Ryo opted for both a bow and crossbow, grabbing as many arrows as he could for both, and also snagging one of the hunting rifles. There was plenty of ammunition, and he reasoned as long as he moderated what he used, if he needed to use anything, he'd be all right.
It took him some time – Ryo explored as much of the store as he could, even finding the storage room where he'd found some winter gear – to find everything he thought he'd need. When he did finish, though, he'd found enough weapons and a yellow plastic sled to transport them along with a raft, a tent, a radio, and the cooler filled with water and protein bars over the broken streets of New York. He still didn't have everything he needed, but it was a start.
After he left the sporting goods store, Ryo checked every building that he could, not only for supplies but for Dee, Bikky, and Carol as well. His going was slow, thanks to the sled being laden with supplies, but Ryo kept trudging along, gritting his teeth when the path was choked heavily with debris or blocked with water. Any time he found anything that looked like a store or a pharmacy, he dragged the sled into it and rummaged around for anything he knew he could use. He'd finally tended to his wounds as well, dabbing at the head wound with peroxide and bandaging it. He found a brace for his wrist, which still smarted but wasn't, fortunately for him, broken. The only signs that anyone else was alive besides him were the sounds of gunshots, always in the distance, but they were starting to slowly fade. In front of him, the sun started its descent, and it created a blood-hued sky.
Panting, Ryo paused and rummaged for a bottle of water and a protein bar, watching the sky turn bright red and orange. A part of him felt disgusted that he hadn't done much of anything, except for rummage and loot for supplies in a broken city. Searching for food and supplies hadn't been on his agenda when he'd started out, and it'd taken up too much time. He still hadn't found Dee, Bikky, or Carol. He hadn't found a single living soul since regaining consciousness, and it sent shivers and stabs of worry coursing through him.
Where were they and were they all right? A quick glance behind him showed how far he'd traveled through the blood-stained, smoke-filled, and body-choked streets, but it did nothing to ease his foul mood. He'd yet to find anyone living so he could determine what had happened. His memories remained fuzzy and shady, dancing out of reach.
There was one consolation for Ryo in this mess. Every body that lay in the streets, broken, bloody and now rotting under the hot July sun didn't belong to Dee, Bikky, or Carol. He took that as a sign that they still lived, that they were hiding somewhere, waiting for him to find them, but it was still difficult to see the number of people who had died. Ryo had tried to shove his emotions to one side, to keep trudging forward so he could find the ones that meant the world to him, but it was starting to wear on him.
A low moan caught his attention, and Ryo nearly dropped his water. To say he wasn't expecting to hear anything beyond the gunshots would have been an understatement. Silence enveloped his world, only punctuated by his grunts as he dragged the sled with his supplies and the guns in the distance. His heart leaping in his chest, Ryo released the ropes and dashed forward. The moan was close. Very close.
He scrambled over a couple slabs of concrete, scratching his palms in the process, but Ryo didn't care. The moan was the first sound he'd heard that told him someone other than him lived, and he couldn't abandon someone who needed him. The cop in him refused to allow such a thing to happen.
The moment he found the person, Ryo stopped, and his jaw dropped a little before springing forward to reach the other. His legs were buried under a large chunk of concrete, but there were no doubts in Ryo's mind as to who the person was.
"J.J.!" he exclaimed, dropping next to the younger man the instant he reached him. J.J. opened his eyes at hearing his name. Ryo didn't fail to notice the gash on his forehead and how blood covered half of his face, the other half a ghastly, deathly white. "J.J. . . ."
"R-ryo?" J.J.'s voice barely cracked above a whisper, and his eyes widened. He lifted a hand towards him. "Ryo?"
"I'm right here," Ryo said, taking J.J.'s hand. He glanced at the concrete pinning his fellow officer down, and his mind whirled with thoughts on how to get J.J. out from underneath it. "I'll get you out . . ."
"Don't . . . bother . . ." J.J. started coughing, blood running from both corners of his mouth. "I . . . feel like . . . I'm . . . drowning . . ."
"No . . ." Ryo shook his head. "No . . . I'm not going to leave you here . . . I can't . . ."
At this, J.J. smiled, albeit weakly, and he grasped Ryo's hand with his remaining strength. Ryo stopped talking. There were tears in J.J.'s eyes.
"Before," J.J. paused to try and inhale a breath, "before you showed up . . . I thought . . . I was going to die alone . . . and that . . . scared me . . . but you're here, Ryo . . . you're here, and you're promising to . . . to save me . . . even though God knows you have every reason to want to see me dead . . ."
He tried to inhale another breath, instead started to cough. More blood poured forth, and Ryo's mind entered panic mode. He needed to get J.J. to safety, to a doctor, anything. He couldn't just sit there and watch him die! J.J. made a gurgling sound, and Ryo turned the other man's head with as much gentleness as he could. It was a difficult task. His hands and arms trembled as helplessness washed over him.
"Hang in there, J.J. I'll get you out of here . . ."
"I-if-f . . . if you see Dee . . . will you tell him . . . th-that I love him? Th-that I'm s-sorry? Please?"
"Please, J.J., don't . . ."
"If . . . if anyone had to find me . . . I'm . . . I'm glad it was you . . . a friendly face . . . Please . . . please . . . find Dee . . ."
To Ryo, it was obvious how hard J.J. was trying to simply keep breathing. Sweat glistened on his forehead in the dying light of the sun. The grasp the other had on his hand tightened for the briefest of seconds before it went slack. Blood pooled around J.J.'s mouth as the last of his strength, energy, and breath drained from him. Yet, despite the amount of pain he'd endured for however long he had, a soft smile graced his youthful features.
"J.J.?" Ryo wanted to shake him. He wanted to believe that it was just a joke on the other man's part, to deny that he'd just witnessed the final moments of someone whom he'd worked with, who saw him as a rival for another's heart . . . someone who was a good person, someone who'd become a police officer, the same as he, to correct the wrongs and injustices of their world. However, the rising and falling of J.J.'s chest told him that it wasn't a nightmare, that his fellow officer wasn't playing a prank on him.
For the first time that day, Ryo allowed himself to weep.
End notes: Yes, I killed J.J. My apologies to J.J.'s fans. Things will be explained in future chapters.
