After an imbossibly long hiatus, I have returned. Here's hoping the cobwebs haven't taken over my brain too much. Okay, this thing's lookin' to be a one-shot based off what my sister and I call Wolfshipping. Will explain further if this goes down well.
Bourbon and Crystals
The Alliance was a favorite haunt of many; the regulars staked out favorite booths with the best lighting, cards strewn across the table and friendly bets made on the outcome of the game. They'd chat with the wait staff, passing flirty comments back and forth. Midnight walls, a scarred mahogany dance floor, the smoky atmosphere and dim lighting gave the club a mysterious, low-key vibe allowing the souls within to relax, releasing the tensions of a long day.
Or the chance for demons to haunt the unforgiving mind.
Another regular was a young man who always came alone; always dressed in black or the darkest blue, from the sleeveless shirt he wore, to the studded belt at his hips and down to his boots. He'd chosen the corner booth with the broken light, the one that gave the barest flicker of illumination. Light and shadows played across his face, highlighting strong cheekbones and dark, spiky hair, the blond fringe of which fell across sharply angled, deep amethyst eyes. Eyes that were narrowed as he stared at the glass of bourbon cupped in his hands, his lips pressed in a thin line and his shoulders hunched. Eyes that held a darkness in them that spoke of a deep guilt.
She watched him from her seat at the bar, sapphire eyes gazing out from under a curtain of silver hair. Eyes like crystal and hair like starlight. He'd told her that once. But then, that had been two years ago.
Blood. It was all she could see. It was all she could touch. All she could smell; could taste. It rolled off her tongue, a bitter, copper and salt flavor that brought her close to retching. It clogged her nose, until all she could smell was its metallic scent. It was slicked across her feet, her legs, her arms. Her hands. Her fingers. It rubbed off on
everything she touched, a bright, crimson wound that festered and grew bigger and bigger and bigger, until it engulfed her.
And none of it was her own.
"Ivy, wake up! Please, you have to wake up!"
She was screaming, her throat bruised and raw. Clutching the girl closer to her, she kept pleading, "Open your eyes, Ivy. Please; just open your eyes!"
This was all wrong. Why, why did Ivy have to take the shot meant for her? She had messed up so badly; she had allowed her fear and her pride to cloud her judgment and, in a moment of weakness, she had lost her heart to her inner darkness. The blame was solely on her; so why was it Ivy who was dying, and not her? Why was she the one bleeding her life blood? Why had the girl protected her, when she'd cast her aside?
Hearing a soft moan, she watched as the girl's eyelids flickered, then slowly opened. She felt a dull ache throb in her chest when she saw the glazed look of Ivy's eyes. She'd always loved their uniqueness; Ivy's left eye was the same hue as the summer sky while the right was of the clearest amethyst. A drop of red rested under her eye, like a bloody tear.
"Why?" she asked, another ache squeezing her heart with every slow gasp Ivy drew. "Why'd you do it Ivy? Why'd you take the bullet? Why would you sacrifice yourself when it was what I deserved?"
The girl smiled. She couldn't believe it, but through the pain, through the blood, Ivy actually smiled. "It's what friends do," she whispered, reaching her hand out. Catching it quickly with her own, she laced their fingers together as Ivy continued, "You guys made one mistake, one that was really too small for such a cruel punishment. You could do so much good, it'd be a shame for your life to go to waste, now wouldn't it?"
"What about you and Yugi though? Your violin, and his writing? What about the score you were working on together? You have so much going for you too. I don't…" Swallowing back tears, she whispered, "I don't want to lose you."
"We knew what we were getting into when we became your friends." A soft light glowed in Ivy's eyes. "You're just like the sister I never had, Aniue; I'm glad I was able to meet you. But could you… could you do me a favor? Yami's gonna need your help; he'll need you to get through this. Please, don't hold it against him? He's got a good heart, one a lot like yours, and it's gonna be broken up over this. Help him through, please?"
It was getting harder for Ivy to breath, Aniue could see that. She could hear wailing sirens coming closer; but it sounded so far away; she feared they'd never make it in time. Wrenching her eyes from the other girl's face, she saw Yami crouched over the boy Yugi, fighting to keep him awake as the blood seeped from the wounds in the boy's stomach and leg. She could see the tears that were sliding freely down Yami's face; she knew he felt the same responsibility she did. He might even feel it more strongly.
Her gaze returning to Ivy, Aniue raised their intertwined hands to her cheek, smearing more blood down her face. "Okay," she whispered, just as the ambulances pulled to a halt. "I'll help him as much as I can."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Memory faded into the present as she blinked away tears. So much had changed; she hadn't kept in contact with anyone, except for what she was doing now.
Watching them from afar.
We knew what we were getting into when we became your friends
She heard her voice so clearly, Aniue had to look around to make sure Ivy wasn't there. She still couldn't believe it; by some miracle of the Great Phoenix, Ivy and Yugi had both survived the shooting. But it hadn't been without cost; both teens had injuries that would follow them for the rest of their lives. And yet, at the same time, they had also found a life companion in each other.
While Aniue had lost hers.
It had been a week since the shooting, and Aniue was still in shock. She was on autopilot, every move felt mechanical as she went through the motions of her day. She went to the hospital to visit Ivy and Yugi in the ICU as soon as she could, and stayed until the nurses told her visiting hours were over. She often ran into Joey, Tea or Tristan, sometimes even Ryou and Duke. She'd even seen Kaiba and Willow once.
She never saw Yami.
Not after the first tense night.
She'd walk home when it was night dark, the warm summer air brushing against her icy skin as she glanced over her shoulder, the skin of her back tight and itchy, always watching for the biker gang.
For Raphael.
When she finally got home, she'd let herself in, then spin around and lock the door as quickly as she could. Sighing, she'd then wonder if she was relieved that the bikers hadn't returned, or disappointed by the fact of their absence.
She'd lay awake at night, memories and thoughts burning through her mind. The catcalls. The jeers. The challenge, issued by Raphael. Yami, in a moment of rash, hot-headed temper, accepting. Yugi and Ivy taking the bullet in Yami's and her place. The devastating fallout. The memories played themselves in a nightmarish loop, over and over until, finally, sweet, sweet numbness overtook her brain and she was overcome with the merciful darkness of dreamless sleep; then, when the sun rose, she began her day again, the same numbness coating her waking hours, until she felt frozen.
And still she didn't see Yami.
Three days later, it became to much for Aniue to take anymore. Agitation lending her speed, she practically flew to Yami's. Letting herself in, she searched the ground floor until she found him in the kitchen.
He was sitting at the table, his head in his hands and an untouched glass of bourbon sitting in front of him. Stepping forward, she said softly, "Yami?"
For a moment, she thought she wouldn't get an answer from him. Then, sighing softly, he pushed away from the table, leaving the glass of amber liquid behind. But he didn't move toward her, instead walking toward the window. Never looking at her. Leaning his shoulder against the sill, he asked quietly, "You came to see me?"
Her mind told her it wouldn't work, but her heart demanded she try. Walking toward him, she said, "Yugi's been asking for you. Maybe you could…"
"No."
The one word was so low, she almost didn't catch it. But she did, and it brought her up short. In answer to her stunned silence, he said softly, "I can't, Aniue. Do you think I didn't see the look in Joey's eyes, on Tea's face? They think it's my fault, and I don't blame them; I know it is."
She wanted to tell Yami he was wrong, that he'd read it all wrong, but she couldn't, because she'd seen it too. Yugi's friends blamed the bikers, blamed Raphael for what happened. But they also held Yami responsible. They never blamed her.
Even though she was guilty too.
Turning from the window, he started toward the door, his shoulders tight and his head low. She could feel him pulling away then; from Yugi, from Ivy, from Joey. Everyone.
She felt him pulling away from her.
"Please!" she cried, catching his wrist. Her eyes were stinging, but she wouldn't let tears fall. Her eyes roved over him, taking in the rumpled clothes; his hair, the spikes normally neat, was badly disheveled, until the black and red and blond all mixed together.
And he still wouldn't meet her eyes.
She couldn't take it any longer. Rage overrode her numbness as she nearly screamed, "Am I really that detestable that you won't meet my eyes? Are you so ready to give up that you can't face me? Dammit Yami, look at me!"
Jerking his head up, he turned to look at her, and she felt the ice thaw as her heart squeezed tight. Despite the bottle of Tennessee whiskey as evidence, he wasn't drunk; she couldn't smell anything on his breath and the only liquor scent came from the glass on the table. But his eyes were all wrong; there was something dark in them, turning their bright violet shade nearly black. The glint of amusement, of unspoken laughter that was so a part of their charm, was missing. The teasing, ever present half curve to his lips wasn't there. His smile, so much a part of him, was gone.
He was broken, and she didn't know how to fix him.
Easily breaking her grasp on his wrist, he cupped both of her slender hands in his as he whispered, "You're not the one with the blood of your friends on your hands, sweet Aniue. That wretched honor belongs to me. Call me a coward if you will, but I can't… I can't face them; not right now. Someday, maybe, but Yugi and Ivy need time to heal first."
Slowly, he raised his right hand until it cradled her head. Leaning closer, he touched his lips to hers, soft and fleeting as a butterfly at first. Then he deepened the kiss, and she could taste bourbon - he had had some already - mixed with his essence of apples and honey and the nutty aroma of coffee. She could feel his longing, his desperation, the passion and need in the kiss.
She could also feel the good-bye.
Too soon, much too soon, he pulled away. Her breathing uneven, she said softly, "I love you."
He moved his hand to cup her cheek. A last gesture. A last touch. She knew it for what it was. Rubbing her cheek against the rough skin of his palm, she looked up at him, her sapphire eyes wet and stinging.
His lips against her ear, he kissed her one more time before whispering, "You're so much better than I deserve, especially now. I won't drag you down with me, sweet Aniue. I can't hurt you like that. May Ra allow our paths to cross again someday."
She knew it was time to leave. Turning around, she walked toward the front door. But she looked back as she reached the portal, her crystal blue eyes meeting his sad amethyst ones.
"Good-bye, my lovely River Wolf."
As she gently shut the door behind her, she prayed this wouldn't be the last time she saw him. And she prayed that, someday, she would make him smile again.
She just had to.
He may have had only the one drink before she'd gone to see him, but Aniue had felt him get drunk that night; he'd never been much of a drinker, so it had been far too easy. She'd felt the fuzzing, numbing effect of the alcohol across the link that connected them to one another; she was glad he'd stayed home when he got himself trashed; it meant he was safe, even if he was trying to drown his guilt in the spirits.
Trying to drown her.
He's got a good heart, one a lot like yours
She knew he did, goddess knew she did. Yami's friends had once called him "Pharaoh," because of his sense of fair play and his ability to think calmly in tough situations like a true king. She had a kind hand, a gentle temperament and a will of steel, all of which had, so she'd been told, made her a great leader. And she'd tried to keep her promise to Ivy; several guys tried to start something with her, but they always turned away when they realized they would never gain her heart. She was branded, her soul belonging to a man who remembered almost nothing of his past, just as she remembered little of hers. All either of them could remember was the last six years, far too little time for such a binding claim to be made; or was it?
Aniue didn't know anymore. All she knew was that she had tried to keep her promise to Ivy, and guilt and fear had thrown it back in her face. Was it Yami's? Or her own? Either way, fear had kept her from trying again after that first time.
He was still staring at the glass, at the beads of water collecting on the smooth surface. He hadn't trashed himself again since the last time, but she could tell he was thinking of it now. Guilt, lies, goodbyes and loneliness twisted his face into a pain riddled mask, the same mask she'd seen before. The same mask that had pushed itself between him and his friends, even after they had forgiven him. Between him and Yugi, even though he'd never blamed Yami in the first place, just as Ivy hadn't blamed him.
Suddenly, she was tired of it.
Tired of being burned and branded.
Tired of the masks.
Of guilt.
Blame.
Fear.
Lies.
Goodbyes.
Pain.
Sadness.
Numbness.
Emptiness.
And she was tired of the ever present, aching loneliness that sat in her chest, that tore her to pieces every night. Something had to change. One second, and Yugi had been bound to a wheelchair; only time would tell if he would ever walk again. Ivy, so talented with her violin, destined to be famous, couldn't play anymore because of the injury to her shoulder. Yami had lost his self-confidence and trust. Aniue had lost her security, the safety that she felt with Yami. One moment, one action, and four lives had been forever changed.
She knew what one seemingly small, insignificant thing could do. Now was the time to do it.
Rising fluidly to her feet, she walked toward the corner booth with the broken light, a dancer's grace clear in her step. Her fear was gone. All that remained was a determination to reunite with a lost loved one, to restore his confidence and his trust in himself.
And maybe regain his love.
Aniue stopped by the table. Only a moment passed before Yami raised his eyes to meet hers. Amethyst held sapphire for a long while; then, with the slightest quirk to his lips, he slid over.
Maybe he was tired of being lonely too.
Maybe… he was ready to begin forgiving himself.
Sliding in next to him, she felt the familiar weight of his arm slip across her shoulders; a weight that had been sorely missed.
Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed softly, "I've missed you, sweet River Wolf."
"I've been waiting for you," she whispered. Turning her head, she caught his lips with hers; honey and apples, how she'd missed the way he tasted. His lips were warm and velvet soft, teasing to the surface a hope she hadn't felt for far too long.
Breaking away, she looked up at his face. Did she? Yes, right there. The hint of his old smile was playing about his eyes, chasing away the sadness that had taken root there for a long time.
So much had changed because of a stupid mistake. But she knew that things could change again, and this time for the better.
With one minute.
One action.
She could help him repair his friendships.
She would help him smile again.
