Boxes
by Nezuko, Prince of Rats
This is a work of derivative fiction based on the manga "Naruto" by Kishimoto Masashi. The characters and the world in which they live are the property of Kishimoto-sensei.
When Genma got home, he knew immediately that something was out of place. The entryway was clean and uncluttered. There were Raidou's everyday sandals, his and Raidou's heavy duty boots, both of their dress shoes, and his house slippers, all neatly lined up. There was a low table with a little ceramic rooster proclaiming this the year of the cock, and holding a couple of days' worth of mail. From the pegs by the door hung Raidou's flack vest and utility belt, his weapons holsters and sheathed kodachi. So Raidou was home. All looked in order. But somehow the atmosphere in the house seemed unsettled. Disturbed. Wrong.
Genma slipped his own vest off and hung it next to Raidou's. What was it that was bothering him? It was late afternoon - there should be sounds, he decided. Knife against cutting board, or the shush of turning pages of a newspaper, or the grunts of Raidou doing push-ups. But there was nothing. Only an eerie silence. He removed his hip pouch and belt, his kunai and shuriken holsters, his half gloves and hitai-ate, and hung them all on the pegs. With a deliberate carefulness, Genma eased off his sandals and slid into his slippers, then stepped up into the house.
"Raidou?" he called. "I'm home."
Genma went first into the kitchen, always a likely place to find his lover, but it was empty. There was an open cookbook on the counter, with a much-stained, handwritten recipe card lying across its pages. A rustic-looking, dark blue ceramic bowl stood next to the book, waiting for ingredients to materialize and combine within. Waiting for Raidou to work his culinary magic.
"Rai?" Genma called again. "You here?" He opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of pear juice, which he carried with him into the ominously silent house.
In the living room Genma found further signs of habitation. A tall, mostly empty cup of coffee; the television with the sound off, silently playing the day's news to the empty room; a tin of blade grease, polishing rag, whetstone and several kunai in two piles, one of spotless steel weapons gleaming with fresh edges, the other of dull and still blood-stained daggers, awaiting the attention that had obviously been lavished on their mates.
"Raidou, come on, where are you?" Genma asked a little more tensely. He went back into the hall and towards their bedroom at the rear of the small house. There was no sign of the man in the rooms he passed: the bathroom was open and unoccupied, with the lid still on the tub; the toilet closet was undisturbed, with only a few drops of water clinging to the sink. With the chill in the November air, they could have lingered there for hours, perhaps even since Raidou's shave that morning.
"Raidou?" Genma stuck his head into their bedroom. On the bedside table, a pitcher of fresh water and a small, crystal glass waited to refresh a thirsty sleeper. A slender black vase held a single, creamy chrysanthemum in full flower, with a spray of bittersweet berries drooping blood-red behind it. The bed was made and the sheets turned down invitingly on Genma's side, waiting to welcome him home, it seemed. But his bedmate was nowhere to be seen.
Only one more room to search, and by now Genma was unsettled. Raidou had said he'd be there when he got home, after all. In fact, Raidou had made it a point of wanting to know exactly when he could expect Genma back. He made his way slowly across the hall and up a pair of stairs towards the guest room. The storage room. The what-not room.
"Raidou, you'd better be in there."
"I'm in here," his partner answered from deep inside. He sounded odd – tense and muffled – and Genma paused in the doorway. He was surprised to see Raidou sitting on the floor, barricaded in by boxes he had evidently pulled out from the storage space under the eaves.
"What are you doing? Are you alright?" Genma asked.
Raidou looked disheveled, wearing dust-smeared black pants and turtleneck – the off-duty uniform of the shinobi at home. His rusty brown hair, freed from the confines of his hitai-ate, stood up in shaggy waves and spikes, but it was his face that seemed the least composed. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired-looking, his scarred cheeks pale. He sat cross-legged with his head bowed over some object in his lap: a small red and black lacquer box with tissue paper spilling out from the open lid.
Genma approached closer, pushing past cardboard obstacles to look over Raidou's shoulder. In his hand Raidou held a small throwing knife. A kunai so many times sharpened that there was a slight concavity to the cutting edges of the blade. The ring handle was glossy black, and the shaft was wrapped in stained silk cord rubbed shiny with wear.
"Raidou?" Genma reached one hand awkwardly down to touch his partner's shoulder.
"You should have had this," Raidou said, not looking up. "Or something like this."
"That's the kunai I gave you, isn't it?" Genma asked.
"This is the one- the one I always save for last. The one between me and death. It's-" Raidou stopped and looked up. He seemed to come back to himself a little, from whatever lost place he'd been in. "Genma. You should be- I turned the bed down."
"I saw." Genma took a slow breath. "Why don't you come sit with me?"
Raidou nodded and put the knife back in the box, carefully wrapping it in the layers of tissue, then closing the shiny, mother-of-pearl inlaid lid with a sharp click. He stood and followed Genma out of the dusty, ghost-filled room and into their warm, inviting bed chamber, still carrying the knife in its elegant lacquerware casket.
Genma stopped at the foot of the bed, then leaned against the wall, watching Raidou as he reverently laid the box atop the quilts.
"Genma, you're... You should sit," Raidou said, looking up at last. He walked around the bed to his partner and took the glass of juice from his hand, setting it on the bedside table next to the flower. When he turned back to his lover, Genma caught his hands in midair.
"You're shaking. What's wrong, Raidou?"
"You. This." Raidou gestured at Genma's bruised face, at the bandages showing beneath his tunic.
"I'm fine. Besides, you've seen me worse off than this," Genma said, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement.
"Would you just- Would you sit down? Please, Genma?" Raidou put an arm gingerly around Genma's waist and tugged him gently in the direction of the bed.
"Alright." Genma let Raidou pull him, let Raidou take part of his weight as he lowered himself to the mattress. "If I'm being sent to bed without supper, I'm getting this stupid uniform off, though."
"You're not... Oh. I didn't start dinner."
"Don't worry about it, Rai-chan," Genma soothed. He grunted and winced as he raised his arms to pull off his top, and Raidou turned with a start, quickly moving to help with the garment.
"Look, it's getting better already. See?" Genma said, once his shirt was off. His chest and left shoulder were wrapped in bandages, and his arms bore several scabs and bruises in various stages of healing.
Raidou just frowned.
"Pants next." Genma swiveled his legs onto the bed and started undoing his trousers. "Come on, Raidou, I know you like to help me take my pants off," Genma smirked, trying for a light, teasing tone, but his concern about Raidou's odd behavior was evident underneath.
Raidou bent silently over his partner's waist, gently easing cloth over bruised limbs. Genma put extra effort into making his movements fluid, into disguising the stiffness in his hips as he lifted his legs to facilitate the disrobing.
"Don't, Genma."
Genma looked up at Raidou in surprise, long brown hair swaying into his eyes.
"Just don't. I already know you're hurt, so don't waste your energy pretending you're not."
"I'm... Raidou, what's the matter?" Genma brought a nicked and scabbed hand up to caress Raidou's scarred cheek.
"You lied to me," Raidou said flatly. He looked into Genma's eyes and said with more fire in his voice, "You always lie."
"What are you talking about?" Genma asked, defensive ire flaring in his own voice. "I came home right when I said I would. I told you where I was. I told you why I was there."
"I saw it on the news, Genma." Raidou sat heavily on the bed next to his injured partner. "It wasn't just some little skirmish you were part of. People died. Konoha shinobi died."
"I couldn't tell you that in my message." Genma looked cross. "You should understand that surely. It wasn't public yet, when I sent that to you."
"You told me it was just a scratch. That they were just being paranoid in making you stay at the field hospital," Raidou persisted. His tone was flat, accusatory, disappointed, and somehow lost and fearful at the same time.
"They were! It is!" Genma was losing his temper now. Fuck, how hard had he just worked to get home? How shitty of a cock up of a fiasco had that mission turned out to be? All he wanted was to be home with his lover, maybe have a nice home-cooked meal, and go to sleep in his own goddamned bed. Was that really so much to ask?
"I saw you," Raidou said in a low, tense rumble. "I saw them carry you out of there. On the news."
"Fuck. You did?" Genma sighed and leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. "How is that possible?"
"They didn't show your face, but I knew it was you. By your voice."
"I don't remember..."
ooo
It had been a relatively nice, late autumn day when the courier arrived with a summons for Raidou – a message to report in to the Admin building for a classified brief. When he got to the mission room, the chuunin at the desk had handed him an envelope with a passcode, and pointed to a series of small booths. Raidou obediently went to retrieve his message.
"Namiashi Raidou, 009717?" the masked ANBU messenger had asked when Raidou handed her the envelope.
"Yes."
The woman behind the parrot mask pushed a bundle of papers across the small desk towards Raidou. "Is this paperwork still effective?"
Raidou looked down and saw several familiar forms covered with boxes, filled out in both his and Genma's handwriting. The Personal Alliance Risk Assessment form. The Next of Kin Notification form. The Powers of Medical Decision form.
"Yes," he answered, with a chilly knot forming in his gut.
"It is my duty to inform you that Shiranui Genma, 010203, has been injured as a result of enemy action while in the course of carrying out his mission." The ANBU woman's tone was soft. Businesslike, but not unsympathetic.
Raidou nodded and looked at the woman whose eyes he could not see. "How bad?"
"He has been taken to a field hospital near the site of the engagement for treatment. He asked that you be given this." The woman held out a small, canvas-wrapped bundle that clanked ominously.
Raidou took the package, feeling the metal within it shift. "Genma's kunai?"
"There is also a written message." The woman held out a tattered-looking scroll.
Raidou set the bundle of daggers in his lap and took the cylinder. His mouth was dry, and his hands felt like ice. He swallowed and peeled back the parchment, dreading what he might find.
When he actually looked, though, he almost laughed. There, in untidy and hastily written characters that were nonetheless obviously from Genma's own hand, was the message, "Mission hit a snafu. I'm a little banged up. Paranoid medics making me stay. I'll be home Friday evening. Polish these up and make me a pumpkin stew? Pretty please?" It was signed with a little heart and Genma's name.
The ANBU woman looked at Raidou expectantly.
"It's okay," he said. "It's good news." Raidou smiled and took a big, relieved breath. Had he been holding it?
"Good. I'm glad." The woman inclined her head. It was obvious that beneath the mask she was returning the smile. It was nice to have one of these next-of-kin deliveries turn out well for a change.
Raidou stood and bowed. "Thank you, ANBU-san." He smiled all the way home.
That had been Wednesday. And it was pretty clear he wouldn't be hearing from Genma again until he returned. Raidou took the kunai home and left them for later. He had a grappling class to teach on Thursday, and then house cleaning and shopping for the things to make dinner Friday morning after his run. So it wasn't until only a few hours before he expected Genma home that he got around to the kunai.
He sat in the living room, with the bundle of knives and the polishing gear, and turned the television on. Sharpening and cleaning weapons was monotonous work, after all. He didn't mind, though. Genma sending home the kunai ahead of himself was another coded message – one that said I won't be redeployed or having to fight any more on this mission.
The news was unremarkable, and Raidou worked steadily on the kunai, only paying half attention to the television, when suddenly a word caught his ear. "... Konohagakure forces suffered casualties in the encounter, although loss of civilian life was minimized. This footage, taken by an amateur cameraman at the scene of the blast on Monday night, shows Konoha forces being evacuated. All surviving civilians had already been rescued when a secondary explosion trapped the forces attempting to route out the enemy agents."
The camera left the calm-faced announcer, and the picture became grainy and poorly lit. There were the sounds of shouting and confusion, and then a bloody corpse in Konoha uniform was carried across the screen by three other shinobi, none of whom Raidou recognized. He watched raptly, wondering where this had taken place, when an unforgettable sound ripped the floor out from under him: Genma. Screaming. Genma screaming. He stared at the screen, watching another pair of shinobi pulling a blood-covered body from the rubble, but this one was twisting and writhing, obviously alive. And screaming in Genma's voice.
He couldn't see the man's face. But he didn't need to. The height was right. The uniform was right. And the voice was unmistakable.
Raidou dropped the kunai he'd been polishing. Only the leather scrap across his thighs kept him from injuring himself with it. He stood and swallowed. Stared at the pile of still blood-spattered blades he had yet to clean. Stared at the screen, which had moved on to something else. Then turned and ran for the toilet, already choking on the bile rising in his throat.
When he recovered, he returned to the living room and sat in front of his pile of knives again. The news was on a loop, and this was big; they'd repeat the story, and then he could verify what he'd just seen. He polished the blades with a robotic efficiency for almost half an hour, before the broadcast was replayed. This time he watched it from the beginning. A border skirmish with ninja from Sound in the town where Genma had said his mission was to take him. And again the chaos. The shouting. The bloody bodies. And Genma's voice. Raidou reached for the remote and snapped the volume off. He couldn't stand to listen to it again.
He tried to reason himself into some sense of calm. He had the note from Genma, after all, and he'd received that on Wednesday. And the report said this incident had happened Monday. Maybe there was just someone else who sounded remarkably like his lover on that mission. But he knew it was a lie. That had been Genma, bleeding and screaming, with kunai and shrapnel sticking obscenely out of his body. Kunai, which meant it had been more than just the explosion that had hurt him. He'd taken enemy blades. Maybe poison blades. And it was a Sound attack, meaning gods only knew what sort of vileness had been inflicted on the Leaf ninja.
He reached for the scroll he'd received from Genma. It was dated Wednesday morning, in Genma's handwriting. A little shaky, but definitely Genma's. Such a simple, minimal note. One designed not to raise alarm. Not to give much away. "Mission hit a snafu." Mission went all to hell, you mean, Raidou thought. "I'm a little banged up. Paranoid medics making me stay." No, a paranoid medic would have shipped you straight to Konoha. Unless maybe they did and that message had really been delivered from the Konoha hospital. But the ANBU woman said field hospital, and since she'd trotted out all the paperwork, there was no reason to think that would have been fudged.
Raidou stared at the kunai. Kunai Genma had used to defend himself with, he thought. But it wasn't enough. He stood again, and stumbled back to the spare room, to look for his special box.
ooo
It was at least an hour later, when Genma came home. Raidou heard him, heard what sounded like normal Genma movements in the house. Calling for him. Opening the refrigerator. Moving through the hall. He was moving carefully, Raidou could tell, but on his own, no cane or crutches. Raidou sat in his fortress of boxes and waited. Somehow he just had to see it with his own eyes. Had to see Genma walk in to find him.
He didn't know how long he'd sat there, really, by the time Genma came in and touched his shoulder. He knew it had been long enough that his knees felt a little stiff. And he knew he didn't look right, because of the way Genma was looking at him.
But Genma didn't look right, either. His face was bruised and scraped, and one eye was blackened and puffy. His knuckles were scabbed over, and a line of black stitches marked a deep cut between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He held himself with the obvious care of someone trying not to jar aching insides. And white bandages filled the gap at the neck of his top, the loose-fitting tunic of a dress uniform, not his usual tight-knit shirt.
Raidou heard himself babble something about the kunai. Something important. He wanted to jump up and take his lover in his arms, but he didn't dare, for fear he'd hurt him. He wanted to yell at him and slap him silly, but that was no better. The relief of seeing Genma standing there, not blood-covered and screaming, just concerned and a little shaky on his feet, hit Raidou like a fist in the gut, and he could almost swear he saw the bloody apparition from the television hovering inches in the air above his lover, threatening to take his place.
He got Genma in bed. Undressed him. Stared at him. Yelled at him. Confronted him with the blatant lie he was trying to foist off on him. The lie he always told: I'm alright. Nothing's wrong. It's not that big a deal. Well this time Raidou had seen what sort of deal it had been, and it was a hell of a lot bigger than Genma was trying to pretend.
"I saw you. I saw them carry you out of there. On the news."
"Fuck. You did?" Genma sounded shocked. He crumpled forward, burying his face in his hands. "How is that possible?"
"They didn't show your face," Raidou answered, in a tone laced with hurt; angry and accusing, "but I knew it was you. By your voice."
"I don't remember..." Genma said, in a near-whisper.
Raidou paused. "What do you mean, you don't remember?" he asked more gently. Something in Genma's voice chilled Raidou's anger. Something in the way he'd curled up into a ball at the mention of the news coverage.
"I don't remember any news cameras. I don't remember getting out. I was fighting off some bastard of a Sound nin, and he was... he was strong, you know? And I was tired." Genma finally looked up at Raidou, giving up the fight. "Sit next to me, alright? If you want to yell at me or whatever, just sit. I'm tired. I want to... I'm gonna lie down, and you..."
"I'll lie down with you," Raidou cut him off and settled himself on the bed. He lifted his arm for Genma to curl under, which Genma did after a moment's hesitation. Only when he was holding him could Raidou feel that Genma was shaking at least as much as he had been.
"Genma." It was all he said. He slowly stroked his lover's long brown hair back from his bruised face, moving with deliberate gentleness. Nothing startling. Nothing abrupt. He studied the battle marks on Genma's skin. The butt of a kunai must have hit his cheek there, falling debris lodged pebble-like in the curve of his forehead here. "Genma."
"I wasn't trying to lie to you, Raidou. I really wasn't." Genma's voice was hushed and a little rough. He reached for his lover's shoulder, not gripping hard, just brushing what was in close-up an even more abused looking hand over the curve of Raidou's collarbone.
"I know. I just..." Raidou broke off, sighing. "Genma, you always say it's not that bad. And this time... I saw how bad it was. And... and..."
"And what?"
"And the news – it was just on today, but I got that message from you on Wednesday, but the reporter said the ambush happened Monday. What happened, Genma? Your note..."
"I didn't want to worry you." Genma paused and shut his eyes. "And compared to some of the others, I wasn't hurt that bad."
"It's bad enough," Raidou said, lightly fingering the edge of the bandage around Genma's chest.
"Raidou." Genma looked quietly into his partner's expressive eyes. "I came home."
"You almost didn't."
"That's not true. What are you saying?"
Raidou pulled away and sat up abruptly, angry all over again. "I'll show you." He stalked out of the room for a minute, and Genma heard him climbing the stairs to the guest room. When Raidou returned, he carried a small portable television. It had been Genma's, once upon a time, and had been decommissioned when they bought the set now in the living room.
Genma watched while Raidou silently set the television on the foot of the bed and plugged it in. He grabbed a dusty coil of cable from under the dresser and attached it to the back of the box, then turned it on and fiddled with the tuner for a moment. When he had the news channel tuned in, he sat back on the bed again, close to Genma.
"What are you doing?" Genma asked warily.
"Just watch. They've been repeating the story all day." Raidou eased his arm around Genma's shoulders again, holding him tensely.
They watched the news silently for almost fifteen minutes, when suddenly Raidou reached out his foot and twisted the volume up. There again was the solemn news reader intoning the description of the attack. There was the cut away to the grainy footage of the dead shinobi being dragged from the ruins of some collapsed underground chamber. There again was the blood-soaked, screaming ninja, pulled alive from the rubble, twisting in agony.
Genma watched in numb horror, and when Raidou kicked his foot out again to turn the set off, he jumped.
Raidou turned to Genma with glassy, tearing eyes and a ragged, barely controlled voice. "Tell me that wasn't you."
"I..."
"Tell me that wasn't you!" Raidou shouted.
"I don't know." Genma's voice was a coarse whisper.
"It was you. That was you, dammit!" The tears that had threatened spilled over the edges of Raidou's eyes. Angry tears. Frightened tears.
Genma brought a hand up to his mouth. "I feel sick."
"How do you think I felt? I upchucked for twenty minutes after I saw that this morning!"
"Rai- Raidou..." Genma stuttered. He looked ashen, visibly shaking now, still pressing his lips closed with tense fingers.
"Genma?" Raidou stopped and really looked at his partner. Genma was trembling. Panting. Broken out in a fine sheen of cold sweat.
"Oh shit. Genma? Shit." He grabbed for Genma's shoulders. "Lie down. It's okay. Just lie down."
Genma's eyes went wide the minute Raidou's hands closed over his shoulders. He twisted hard, trying to get away, but his injuries limited him, and a stabbing pain in his chest stopped him mid-rotation. A hurt, panicky sound escaped his lips.
"Genma? It's okay..." Raidou straddled Genma's hips and tried to hold his struggling partner still. Genma kicked, sending the little television flying off the end of the bed and crashing to the floor, then twisted again, making that same, miserable sound.
"Shit! Genma! Stop fighting me! Lie still!" Raidou shouted. "Genma, look at me! Genma!"
Genma's panicked eyes focused at last on Raidou's own, and Raidou finally had the presence of mind to let go of Genma's shoulders. He knelt over his partner, staring into his eyes. Both men were breathing hard.
Fuck, he looks shocky, Raidou thought. His own heart was racing as he tried to formulate a checklist of things to do to get the situation under control. Get him lying down – done. Elevate his feet – no, first talk to him. "Genma? It's- it's okay. Genma?"
Genma's eyelids flickered a little.
"Shit. Genma, Genma, It's okay. You're home, okay? Just- shhhhhh, it's okay." Raidou held himself precariously above the other man, trying to keep him from injuring himself further without setting him off into combat mode again. He reached one hand out very slowly to brush the hair back from Genma's forehead, a familiar gesture between them.
Genma's eyes darted towards the motion, and he took a sharp breath, tensing up.
"No, shhhhh, it's okay, Genma. Okay? Come on, Genma," Raidou pleaded.
Genma's bright eyes focussed again, locking with Raidou's, and losing some of their wildness. "Rai- Raidou?"
"Yeah, yeah it's me. Okay? Genma? You okay? You're home, it's okay. Okay? You're okay." Raidou kept up the rapid stream of slightly panicky reassurances, trying to calm himself as well as his lover. He resumed the motion of his hand, bringing it to lightly caress Genma's face.
Genma flinched when Raidou's fingers first touched him, then relaxed as he connected with his lover's chakara, felt the warmth and energy radiating from his palm. Right, this was home. This was safety. The blood and terror filled flashback the broadcast had triggered receded, leaving only the lingering pain of his healing injuries and the slowing throb of his pounding pulse. Genma took several slow, shaky breaths, at last reaching one hand up to cover Raidou's and hold it there, pressed against his cheek.
"Yeah, yeah. It's okay. You're okay, now, right? Genma?" Raidou asked, hardly daring to breathe, lest he break the fragile calm that had finally come to the traumatized ninja.
"I'm- I'm okay. Sor-"
"Shh, don't be sorry," Raidou cut him off. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm the one. I'm... I shouldn't have done that to you." He took several deep, steadying breaths of his own, never letting his gaze wander from Genma's still slightly stunned-looking, tobacco-brown eyes. It was a lifeline, that look between them, and Genma was clinging to it like a drowning man.
After several quiet minutes, Raidou spoke again. "I'm gonna sit back, alright? I'm just gonna get up and get a cloth to wash your face with, and then I'll come right back, alright?"
Genma nodded, letting go of Raidou's hand reluctantly.
"You just stay there. Stay lying down." Raidou slowly withdrew his hand, slowly sat back on his heels and climbed off of Genma and off the bed. "I'm gonna put your feet up a little, alright? You look kind of pale."
"You don't have to do that," Genma said, in a voice still small and ragged. "I'm alright."
"No, I want to, okay? I think I should. Just... Please, Genma? Let me." Raidou was already pulling pillows from his side of the bed, moving them towards Genma's feet. Genma nodded, and Raidou gingerly picked up first one leg, then the other, settling pillows under his knees and ankles.
"Okay. Are you cold? You look cold." Raidou didn't wait for an answer, just pulled the quilt up to Genma's chest, covering him. "I'll get you pajamas, too, if you want."
"No, it's alright." Genma said. "I'm alright."
"Okay, well just stay there. I'll be right back." Raidou edged around the bed, stopping to move the discarded television to the corner. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. I should have known. Oh gods, Genma, please be alright. He crossed the room with a deliberately slow pace, but sped up as soon as he was out the door, hurrying to the bathroom and running a washcloth under the tap for several minutes.
While Raidou was gone, Genma stared at the ceiling, feeling weak and foolish. He'd known it had been bad. He certainly remembered enough of the battle, and the sudden explosion and collapse. He remembered the screams of the dying, enemy ninja and comrades alike. He remembered the jagged, crushing pain of being buried alive. It was all there in bits and pieces, recalled with lightning clarity, even if he didn't remember the actual moment of his rescue. But Raidou had been right. That was him, in that newscast.
Still, he was shinobi. He'd faced things a thousand times worse a thousand times over, he told himself. To have let himself be caught on camera – he was better than that. And then this just now – to have let seeing the videotape unhinge him so badly... Genma could just kick himself.
Raidou returned and sat on the bed, still moving slowly and carefully. "Here, Genma, let me wash your face, okay?"
Genma turned his head towards his partner, but wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Genma, my Gen-chan... I'm so sorry," Raidou babbled while he brushed the warm washcloth over his lover's clammy skin.
"Raidou," Genma croaked at last, "stop." He reached an icy-white, shaking hand for Raidou's, almost jerking it away again when he felt the burn of his lover's body heat contrasting with his own chill.
"Okay, okay," Raidou murmured, dropping the washcloth into a heap on the bedside table. "You're so cold. Are you cold?"
"Yeah," Genma agreed reluctantly, "I'm cold."
"Okay, um... drink some of your juice, and then I'll lie down with you and warm you up, okay?" Raidou eased an arm under Genma's shoulders, holding him up enough that he wouldn't choke, and held the glass to his lips.
"I can do it myself," Genma protested. But he couldn't. All the energy had gone out of him. He lay limply in Raidou's arms, sipping at the sweet pear juice and hating himself for being so weak.
Raidou was still running through his list. Get him in bed, feet elevated. Keep him warm. Get some fluids into him. Get some sugar into him. Keep him calm. Check for bleeding...
"Is that - is that enough?" Raidou asked, taking the glass back. When Genma nodded he put the juice down and pulled back the blankets.
Genma whimpered at the cold.
"I just need to see..." Raidou said, peering at the bandages. No obviously fresh blood marred them. Genma still looked terribly pale though, pale and just not right. Shock. What do you do for shock? Pain makes shock worse, right? "Do you hurt?"
"Little."
Well that meant a lot. He'd known Genma long enough to know that if the man was willing to admit something hurt, it was probably near agonizing and would have had any ordinary person weeping and begging for relief.
"Did they give you some pills? Anything like that?"
Genma nodded. "In my vest."
Shit. Yeah, that meant it was bad. Genma was willing to take the pills without argument? That was definitely bad. "I'll get them. Stay here." He pulled the quilt up to Genma's shoulders, then grabbed a small folded blanket off of a chair in the corner and tucked that over him, too.
"Not going anywhere," Genma muttered in a small voice.
"Yeah, okay, just don't. I'll be right back," Raidou answered distractedly. He returned almost immediately, clutching two small bottles of pills. "Here, you should have both, okay?"
Genma made a small sound of agreement. He had sunk even further under the blankets, and his eyes were closed.
"Genma?" Raidou sat down on the bed again, petting a hand through his lover's long hair.
Genma flinched wide awake at the touch, his eyes jerking open. He didn't cry out or try to fight, though. Just stiffened for a second, then relaxed – made himself relax – and tried to smile weakly at Raidou, to cover his alarm.
"It's okay. Here, here's your medicine," Raidou soothed. He shook two tablets into his palm and held them to Genma's lips. "Open. I'll give you some juice to wash them down." He eased a hand back under Genma's head and helped him sip more of the sugary beverage.
"Sorry-" Genma started again, and Raidou hushed him.
"It's okay. You don't have anything to be sorry about. It's okay." He felt a little better now. Genma looked a little less like he might pass out or panic at any moment. He still looked small and weak and tired. Abused and injured, nauseated and sick. But not nearly so frighteningly grey-faced and wild-eyed.
"You shouldn't be home, should you?" Raidou asked, stroking Genma's hair. "You should still be in the hospital."
"No." Genma said with finality. "No, I should be home. Home is better."
"Alright," Raidou agreed, and silently cursed whatever idiot medic had let Genma con her into letting him leave while he was still so fragile. Because he was obviously not well. Not if such little activity could generate so much pain. Not as shaky and unstable as he was. It wasn't the flashback that worried Raidou so much as the physical reaction that had accompanied it.
But Genma was looking better now, with the color coming back into his face and his shaking stopped. Maybe with the pills he'd given him in him... Maybe if he could just get some sleep... Raidou bit his lip and looked at Genma's tired face.
"Will you sleep if I lie down with you?"
"What about dinner?" Genma asked.
"Are you really hungry?" He couldn't be hungry, could he?
"No."
Raidou pulled the covers back from his own side of the bed, and Genma gave him a weak smile. "Take your shirt off," he said, and Raidou almost laughed.
"You cannot be thinking about that," he said. But it was Genma. He supposed anything was possible.
"No," Genma answered, when Raidou had complied, stripping off the dusty turtleneck to climb into the bed and pull Genma into his arms once again. "I just want to... I..." Genma sighed, and curled up. "I just like the warmth of your skin." His scarred, scabbed hand reached out again, to curl over the decade-old scar that contoured Raidou's face, neck and shoulder.
It took only moments for Genma to fall into an exhausted sleep. He was home, and Raidou was there. And for now, everything was in its place.
ooo ooo ooo
Special thanks for various beta reading and encouragement to: Bite, Kiki, Kilerkki, Midare, MessyPeaches, Winter, Kaja, Telosphilos
This took over a year to finish, languishing on my hard drive while I tried to write an ending. There are some flaws, certainly, but I'm glad I let it incubate for as long as I did.