A/N: The fascinating characters of Kamen Rider Double / Kamen Rider W do not belong to me, but to their creator. With that, ENJOY!
Losing Myself
His eyes snapped open, and he could not bring himself to close them again, not when he knew that he would see it again.
Philip sighed, giving up his pathetic attempts of sleeping. His thoughts drifted; his usual control abandoned, free and absent of his usual deliberate focus.
'You idiot, why the hell did you use Fang?'
Hidari Shoutarou had been furious. Philip had not answered his aibou then, ignoring his friend's ranting in favour of treating Shoutarou's wounds.
Then, he had been distracted, but not by his usual quest of curiosity; he had been distracted by something he would never forget, something that had been burned into the back of his eyelids, into the core of his mind.
Both detectives were no stranger to injuries, fatal or otherwise. It came with the job. Although Philip was hardly ever physically present at the scene of a crime, he had glimpsed of the carnage they sometimes stumbled upon in their cases through his mind link with Shoutarou. The older boy, ever protective, was very careful about shielding his thoughts, unwilling to let his partner see the horrors he had witnessed, but sometimes, those shields would crack, and Philip would get a taste of blood, a whiff of smoke and ash. Of course, once Shoutarou realized what had happened, he would rebuild those walls, but it was enough, and Philip knew.
So really, he was no stranger to wounds, no matter how gory they were.
Philip blinked, his hand inches from a doorknob.
Somehow, without his knowing, his thoughts, his feet had led him to his partner's room door. Hesitating for a split second, Philip slipped into the room, quietly and extremely careful not to make a sound.
The room was dark; the only light a silvery thread of moonlight that streaked the floor, as the younger detective made his way through the room, his eyes trained on the bed and the sleeping figure in it. Shoutarou was lying on his back, his chest rising and falling gently with every breath.
But Philip knew that his partner's breathing was more erratic than it should have been; a clear sign that Shoutarou was suffering more than he let on. Coupled with their transformation and subsequent battle in Shoutarou's body, it was no wonder his wounds had been aggravated.
Involuntarily, Philip's hand reached out, hovering over the bandages that covered his partner's body; bandages that hid the one thing Philip could not and would never forget.
It was a bruise, a large, ugly bruise, the clear and very distinct shape of a foot.
The very same foot that had torn from Shoutarou his reluctant screams of pain.
When Philip had tended to his fellow detective, he had stared at the cruel mark in sick fascination, unable to look away. It had been a reminder, one that had dragged his mind back to the moment he had been filled with helpless fear and fury, completely powerless even though his friend, his aibou had clearly, desperately needed him.
Even though he had been the cause for Shoutarou's capture in the first place.
He trembled, his ears still rang with his partner's cries, raw and anguished, lingering and piercing, even after Kurata Kenji had ended the call, and all that was left was the ominous echo of the dial tone.
And Philip had been unable do to anything.
The younger detective's eyes hardened.
That was why he had used the Fang Memory; that was why, after all that running, he had abandoned all caution and accepted the risks he had dreaded with all his being.
Because Philip feared losing himself, was petrified at the mere thought of it.
But more than that, infinitely more, he was terrified of losing Shoutarou.