Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh
MysticShadowWanderer
&
IntoxicatedXBeauty
Disclaimer: If we owned Kenshin, it would have more sex. If we owned Bright Eyes... well... we would probably... have more sex.
Warning: This story is disturbing. Not to be read by small children or particularly stupid mammals.
Kenshin turned up the collar of his overcoat with a heavy sigh before tucking his chafed lips behind the comforting warmth of the thick fabric. Would the rain never cease? In all honesty, he could not remember a single day since his arrival that had shown him the sun, and the drearily constant drizzle was beginning to mark itself as just another staple of the small town that he could only describe as grey. Another sigh was muffled behind the light brown of his protective shell; he wondered more often than not why he had agreed to come here.
At first the village had seemed quaint with its cozy little houses tucked neatly against each other with the typical old English charm. He couldn't help but grin slightly, remembering the words of the cheerful young woman whose parents he was boarding with: "This place is old with an 'e.'" His smile gradually morphed into a grimace at the chill of the afternoon, and he was more than glad to shake himself dry in the entranceway of the house that he was having considerable difficulty thinking of as 'home.' Within a week, the quaintness of the town had worn off and it had become hopelessly outdated; the houses ceased to be cozy and were now merely restrictive and oppressive in their monotony, plucking at his mind until he was forced to acknowledge a subtle feeling of claustrophobia. If he wasn't careful, he would wind up hating it here.
Kenshin's coat was still damp when he tossed it atop of the coatrack, but judging by the gathering puddle at the base of the ever-growing collection it didn't matter much. If the family minded how much mess he and Tomoe made, it didn't show in their demeanor. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that Kenshin paid quite handsomely for room and board in their home, which had forced their daughter out of her own bedroom and into what amounted to little more than an attic crawlspace. The wave of guilt that assaulted him was foreseeable considering his train of thought. Wincing involuntarily, he stooped to spread a fairly new, unused handkerchief over the offending liquid. Tomoe had bought the thing for him, and while he appreciated the gesture, he didn't see any need to "fit in with the local culture" as she did and had a feeling that it would have better use this way than in any other manner. He certainly had never planned to put it to its original purpose, and, frankly, he found the thought to be someone disconcerting.
Tomoe's heart was in the right place, he knew. In fact, had he not known that, he wouldn't have been in such a godforsaken town. It was at his wife's insistence that they moved to the community, though why she had seen it fit to leave Japan he was not entirely certain he would ever know. Then again, he was still having a bit of trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he was married, especially given the situation. It didn't exactly feel as though he had gone about this the right way, but he'd always had a bit of trouble with the rules and regulations of society. He also supposed that most people didn't marry to avoid enemies of the government made while carrying out classified assassination missions, so if he harbored the sneaking suspicion that Tomoe was hiding something from him, it made sense. After all, with the way his life had been heading, he couldn't really find much room for complaint. His hand raised unconsciously to trace the shape of the scar on his left cheek, the thin line that reminded him so much of all the regret he had harbored, of how he had voluntarily hefted the weight of all the world on his aching shoulders.
As he stood from where he realized he had frozen in the ungainly position one takes to mop up a spill, Kenshin was amused to see the smiling face of the youngest family member. It was unfair of him to think of her as a girl, he supposed, as she was seventeen years old and almost through with high school. Briefly he wondered, not for the first time, why her family had chosen this horrid place for a child like she must have been to grow up. She was such a sharp-witted, optimistic young woman that he was sure that she had to possess some magical ability; after all, she had spent most of her life away from her homeland and stuck here in a town that grew more dingy and depressing by the minute. It was an odd coincidence that they shared the same heritage. How many people of the nation of Japan would have chosen this place to live in, anyhow?
"Good afternoon, Himura-san," she said happily, extending a hand to take the hat that he hadn't noticed was still sitting on his head. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
Kenshin withheld his derisive snort. "I suppose it would be if you like rain."
"And grey," she quipped. "I've positively never seen a greyer day than this. I almost called in to work to tell them I couldn't make it due to the fact that it was too grey."
Kenshin chuckled at that, incredulous at her ability to find humor in something that had managed to drag him so far down. It was almost as if she were never unhappy, but he knew that couldn't be possible... could it? She shook her head slightly as he inquired as to whether Tomoe had been in yet and followed a short distance behind him as he made his way down the hall to the kitchen.
Her nose turned up a bit as she took an appreciative whiff of the scents rising from the stove. Kenshin smiled, almost genuinely, at her near-childish antics. She was so pure of heart. As she seated herself at the table and began to pore over the textbooks strewn across it, she lazily stretched one hand up to release her hair, briefly sinking her fingers into the ebony mass to massage the part of her scalp that had taken the considerable strain of holding such weight up throughout the day. Kenshin unconsciously sucked in a breath, his fingers curling with the conscious desire to be the one burying his hand in that lush silk, preferably as he pressed her lips to his. Shaking himself thoroughly, he reprimanded his mind for such thoughts. He was married, he had to keep that in mind. Besides, she was much too innocent, and still just a bit too young.
As if sensing his discomfort, she looked up at him, and the serious expression she wore made him pause. Something danced in her eyes, and her bottom lip protruded just slightly in a pout that he couldn't help but think was deliberately seductive. His still-clenched fingers started to draw blood from his palms.
"Kenshin-san?" her voice was low; was his imagination giving it that husky undertone?
He swallowed hard before answering. "Yes, Kaoru-dono?"
"Do you think, perhaps, that you could lend me a hand with some of these math problems?"
Kenshin nearly laughed aloud at her request. His mind was so overactive. "Of course, Kaoru-dono." Her struggle with mathematics was infamous in the household and the cause of much banter, along with some mild violence, occurring mostly during her moments of great frustration when several thick texts had been known to become airborne.
However, he found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on algebra as the problems grew more demanding of competence. Kaoru's response to the necessary deliberation asked by such equations was to chew her lip thoughtfully, a trait which Kenshin was beginning to find endlessly distracting. There was no way, he thought, that Kaoru could overlook just how much he was fighting with the pencil and paper to make the answers come out correctly, but she merely sat and watched raptly while he showed her where her mistakes laid. A smile flashed across his face in sympathy; the poor girl really was no good at math. Pushing the paper in her direction, he nodded to indicate that it was her turn to tackle an equation or two. With a look of grim determination, she set out to attempt the great undertaking ahead of her.
The two were lost in a world of swirling numbers and variables when Kaoru suddenly glanced up at the clock hanging over the stove where what had been identified as vegetable soup simmered happily on the lowest setting. Kenshin looked at his watch to confirm the verity of the sometimes unreliable timepiece on the wall, hoping that it was wrong as it sporadically tended to be. His heart sank low in his chest when the time on his wrist matched that on the wall; it was late, very late, and it had become obvious that they were the only two home. The growing unease that he had been perceiving from Kaoru now settled itself like a thick, suffocating blanket over his head. This could not be right.
"Where was Tomoe-san going today?" Kaoru spoke softly, as if afraid to raise her voice any higher would be to commit some sort of faux pas.
Kenshin merely shook his head to suggest that he was unsure. "What about your parents?"
"I don't know."
Their gazes met and held in mutual concern that was escalating to a mild panic. For several long moments they simply stared, each daring the other to be the first to make the dread statement that perhaps it would be advisable to contact the police, just in case. The obnoxiously loud shriek of the telephone broke the state of entrancement, and Kaoru vaulted from her chair to the wall-mounted phone only seconds before Kenshin began the same sequence of movements.
"Hello?" her voice was tense and anxious. "This is she." Kenshin strained to hear the other end of the clipped conversation, but to no end. Whoever she was speaking to had a voice that was either too quiet or out of his range to pick up at such a distance. "Oh... oh. I... I see... I–" her words were cut off as the phone dropped from her violently shaking hands. She fumbled to recover it, looking to be on the edge of collapse. "I'm sorry, could you... could you please repeat that?" The blood drained from her face too quickly. The caller asked a few questions to which Kaoru gave slightly confused, cut-off answers, and the conversation ended. Kenshin barely leapt up in time to catch her as her knees gave out and she plummeted toward the linoleum in a dead faint.
The phone slips from a loose grip
Words were missed then, some apology
'I didn't want to tell you this'
'No, it's just some guy she's been hanging out with'
'I don't know, the past couple weeks I guess'
"Kaoru-dono?" Kenshin's voice reached to her through the black haze of disarray. "Are you alright?"
The floor was hard and cold underneath her back, and Kaoru pressed her fisted hands into her eyes in disbelief. This was absolutely not happening.
"Kaoru-dono, what happened? What did they say?" Try as he might, Kenshin couldn't keep the notes of fear from trembling behind his words.
"They... they're... dead!" with such resounding finality she spit out the words before finally breaking down and letting her body heave with sobs. "A-all three of th-them!"
Kenshin's eyes were wide and his hand immediately went to the shoulder of the girl that lay curled in a ball on the floor. His lips formed the question 'how?' but it never came out as Kaoru pulled herself upright just enough to rock herself into his chest, where she clung to his shirt. Finding himself utterly useless, he could do nothing but wrap her in his arms and murmur soothing nothingness into her hair, delaying any remorse he felt by hiding it under the shroud of complete shock.
As he let Kaoru cry herself to sleep in that awkward position on the kitchen floor, with the comforting smell of homemade soup mocking her anguish, Kenshin slowly began to unravel the threads of the conversation of which he had been privy to only the lesser half.'Someone she's been hanging out with...' He knew Kaoru had been talking about Tomoe and the male friend she'd made in town. His rage was brief but unadulterated; he reined himself in for the benefit of the girl in his arms that now seemed so very fragile. This would have to be solved later, he decided as he lifted Kaoru with graceful ease; first, she had to be put to bed.
Being alone in that house with Kaoru had taken its toll on Kenshin; he had grown weary from his self-placed restraints and from the emotions they were both experiencing. He knew very well the despair that she was going through, having dealt with it many years ago that he had purposefully faded from his memory, but she was handling things admirably, refusing to let him arrange her parents' funeral at the same time he dealt with the matter of having Tomoe's body returned to the Yukishiro family in Japan that turned out to have only been estranged from him. Now that their daughter was dead, they wanted nothing more to do with the man that she had married. The frown that recently had become his default expression deepened slightly and he furrowed his brows in contemplation; something about all of this didn't entirely add up.
While Kenshin's contact with the Yukishiros had ended with their reception of their daughter's body, Kaoru had a funeral to attend that day, and he felt obligated to be there with her. She could not be expected to go through such an ordeal by herself. Currently, she was in the kitchen, leaning against the wall and talking somberly with some unidentified person on the telephone. Most likely a relative in Japan wanting details about the funeral, which was to be held in the house to lessen the cost. Kaoru's limited funds were nearly drained, and Kenshin oftentimes found himself wondering how she would be supported once she'd dragged herself through this first trial.
As it turned out, a minimal amount of Kaoru's relatives could scrape together the time, money, or interest to attend the funeral, and Kenshin found himself sitting alone next to a bereaved woman that had until so recently been childlike in her innocence, or at least in her pretenses, all of which had been dropped.
The service he found to be in poor taste, mainly because he couldn't understand the priest's thick English accent and because he didn't understand this Western memorial service as much as he'd thought he did. The large pine boxes, both closed, seemed somewhat superfluous, but he remained silent as he held Kaoru's hand and tried to mentally will her to stop crying because it broke his own heart.
Everything was moving through a grey mist in Kenshin's mind that mirrored the world outside with its gloomy, dank moisture. The entire proceedings in the cemetery were a bewildering blur to him, and he could only imagine how they felt to Kaoru, who hadn't ceased her tears from the moment the funeral started until they returned to the house to find a few ragged looking relatives sitting on the dull, flower-patterned couch, watching the television with a detached interest. Gently steering Kaoru out of that room into the hall, Kenshin shut the door only to hear the howling laughter of the TV audience and the chuckling of Kaoru's relatives seep around the doorframe. At the sound, Kaoru crumpled into his waiting arms with a suppressed wail. He pressed his lips to her forehead, quieting her in a voice that was nearly inaudible itself.
Blinking furiously to clear her eyes, Kaoru tilted her head to see his expression, not moving from where she was pressed flush against his firm chest.
"It's going to be alright," he soothed. She shook her head, nodded, then looked entirely mystified. "I promise, I'll stay with you."
Kaoru's eyes brightened, just the slightest bit, at his words, and she searched his gaze with hers. "You have seen too much," she said after intense scrutiny. "You hurt more than I do, I could always feel it, rolling off you in great dark waves." Her small hand tapped his chest, as if she were delivering the blow straight to his heart. "You have always wanted me." Her coy smile shone through her tears for a fleeting instant. "I have always wanted to be the one to take care of you... I want to be there for you, always."
Stretching upward, she pressed her lips to his, hesitantly, as if he might run from her. Kenshin nearly smiled at that; it should be the other way around, he mused. Disregarding the voices in his head that told him this was inappropriate, he shifted to wrap his arms around her and dig one hand into her glossy hair, drawing her deeper to him. This was the way it was to be, then.
Well, thank you and hang up the phone
Let the funeral start
Hear the casket close
Let's pin split-black ribbon to your overcoat
Well, laughter pours from under doors
In this house, I don't understand that sound no more
It seems artificial, like a T.V. set
The days wore on and saw Kaoru left in Kenshin's care, the pair having hastily obtained a marriage license at Kaoru's behest; legal permission for the act was easily obtained from the current matron of the Kamiya family, who seemed to hold some sort of a grudge that had managed to apply to the girl who could certainly not have been at fault for anything, at least not in Kenshin's mind. The situation should have been awkward at best, both parties knew this, especially with Kaoru still planning to finish her senior year of high school, which had nearly ended anyhow, but with all the tragedy that surrounded them, they were looked over by the snide remarks and piercing eyes of the community and its almost outdated sense of propriety.
To Kenshin, Kaoru appeared happier than ever, although she exuded a sense of maturity that he realized had been sleeping hidden within her, presumably to please her parents with her sincerity or even to be able to pull the proverbial wool more snugly around their eyes so that she might indulge herself in activities that even he found quite lawless when she told him the stories. She awoke smiling in the mornings (although, with a smugly complacent smirk that was somewhat unnatural with his features and temperament, he reminded himself that he might have more than a small part in that), and was excelling at the task of managing a household, however small, and still keeping up with schoolwork and a job. He was unsure of how she was doing all of this without losing her mind, so he simply smiled appreciatively at everything she was getting done.
He was floating somewhere between a dream and the realization that he should wake up before he slept the first half of his Saturday away when he felt soft lips working down his cheek to his earlobe. With a stretch, he shook himself awake so that he might take Kaoru in his arms and start their day in the proper manner. She shrieked and giggled as his hands tugged at the drawstring to her pajama pants and with a few deft movements, she ceased his fervent exploration.
"Not yet, babe," she said as she literally bounced out of bed. Kenshin sat up to follow her, but before he could even swing his legs to the side, she had returned with something cupped in her pretty little hands. Instead of questioning her, Kenshin merely raised an eyebrow. "Here, this is for you," she chirped, stretching out her hands in an indication that she wanted him to hold his out.
He followed her wordless instructions and was rewarded with the soft clink of metal and the slight weighing down of his hands. When she shifted to let him see, he found himself holding a gold locket on a delicate chain. Head tilted in curiosity, he opened the little heart-shaped box with some difficulty to find a long, glossy lock of black hair coiled tightly inside. His eyes searched hers for explanation and she laughed happily.
"I know it's not... well... it's not a very manly or orthodox gift, I suppose. But now you have something of mine, something important, that you can keep forever." A slow look of comprehension was winding across his face. "It's almost as if my giving it to you proves that our love will last forever, I guess."
Kenshin awoke on a Monday morning feeling as if he were smothering to death. The feeling had been growing in intensity over the past few weeks, and he could no longer delay dealing with the issues that were causing it to arise. Kaoru was curled comfortably around his body, her head a welcome heaviness against his chest, and he moved fluidly to avoid waking her; there were still a few hours remaining before she had to wake up and begin preparing herself for school.
He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands as though to be the perfect picture of despair and confusion. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he knew what was bothering him. And that was Tomoe. Somehow he couldn't help but feel suspicious of the way she died, having been shot. Had they still been in Japan, it would have been a little less suspect, since he had become somewhat notorious there. And there was also the fact that Kaoru's parents had died in the same manner, which was so highly unlikely that it confounded him to think that this had happened in such a quiet little town. It was almost driving him crazy to worry about it so much, but he knew they had been killed, though nothing added up and he couldn't come to any sort of conclusion as to who might have done it. His frustrated groan was met with a warm hand stroking his back.
"What's wrong?"
"They were murdered, I know it!" This was the first time he'd mentioned his doubts to Kaoru, and he quickly glanced at her to see how she was handling the heavy accusations that he had let slip out. Her jaw was slightly slack and her hands came up of their own accord to tug at her hair furiously.
"How... how could you say that?" Her face was growing visibly paler. "Th-that's preposterous." She let out a shaky laugh that was utterly fake.
Kenshin eyed her sharply. "Are you alright?"
"Yes... yes, I'm fine. I just... I don't know how you can say that... I don't know what to do about it."
He kissed her firmly and she sighed as she leaned into him. The calloused tips of his fingers stroked her cheek gently. Guilt flooded him when he saw how disquieted the thought made her; obviously she was not ready to deal with something so monumental. Despite her worldliness and intelligence, she was still too young. "I'm sorry, love," he murmured. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"No..." she whispered, lying back into the pillows and stretching her arms out to him. "No, I'm alright."
The bedside clock told Kenshin that they still had a few hours before either of them had to begin to ready themselves for their days, and he gave her a feral grin to which she replied with a seductive stretch and a prolonged wetting of her lips. As they tumbled into the blankets, Kenshin briefly remembered Tomoe, and that they never used to have so much passion between them, even at the height of sexual fulfilment. But he pushed her out of his mind completely as Kaoru pulled his body tight to hers with the promise of something much better than fading memories.
Well, haligh, haligh, a lie, haligh,
This weight it must be satisfied
You offer only one reply
You know not what you do
But you tear and tear your hair from roots
From that same head you have twice removed now
A lock of hair you said would prove
Our love would never die
Well ha ha ha
Kenshin leaned in the doorframe with a smile creasing his lips as Kaoru applied her makeup ever so carefully, her nose almost touching the glass of the antique mirror that she stood before. He loved to watch her get ready for school in the mornings, enjoying especially the way she put eyeliner on. It was as if the entire mirror was engulfed by the vivid blue of her eyes, like it had been splashed with a pearlescent sapphire paint. He loved the mirror in itself, though, even when she wasn't before it, although that certainly heightened the appeal of the reflective surface. It was obviously something special; it was so very old and beautiful.
Sometimes, when he was sure Kaoru thought he couldn't see her, he would watch her cry in front of that mirror. It broke his heart to stay hidden while she sobbed in near silence, to deny her the solace that he knew awaited her in his arms, but he couldn't help himself; the image presented to him was far too valuable and devastatingly gorgeous to do otherwise. He didn't always know why she was crying, didn't know anything but that it sounded as if she were bearing all of the sins of mankind by herself when she wept in such a manner, but it seemed to him that she was always heartened by the presence of that mirror. Perhaps it was the overwhelming rush of sparkling color that was presented to her when she raised tearful eyes to acknowledge the quality of the reflection. He could never help but wonder what cause such terrible anguish that could make her cry like that; she was always so much in control of herself.
Kenshin would always stand at the corner with Kaoru while she waited, huddled under a large black umbrella in the freezing rain, for the slow, lumbering bus that would take her to school. The passers-by would never say even a solitary word to them, which was somewhat of a relief once the community had let the memory of tragic happenings slip far enough away that the odd marriage became a topic of gossip and dirty looks. In fact, it sometimes seemed that people went out of their way to avoid looking at or walking near the pair while they were standing out in the rain. They were always alone when they stood at the bus stop, and it suited Kenshin just fine.
"So... you think my parents were murdered?" Kaoru's question was out of place for her –she had been doggedly avoiding the subject since the first time he'd brought it up, and he'd never had the heart to force her to talk about it when it so clearly bothered her– but it somehow fit with the day and, strangely, the setting. It was cold and dreary ('As usual,' Kenshin thought), and there was a thick fog rolling languidly through the street. The street lamps, not quite ready to go out yet at such an early hour and with the heavy blanket laid by the weather, burned halos around themselves that reminded Kenshin none too gently of an old English mystery. For some reason, this was the perfect time and place, at least in his mind, to discuss murder.
'I'm too morbid...'
"Kenshin?" Her quiet voice tugged him out of his mind and back to the matter at hand.
"Yes, Kaoru, and Tomoe too," he said in a voice just slightly louder than a whisper. "I'm certain of it."
"Who do you think could have done it?" Kaoru's tone held a sort of mild disinterest, and at once he knew that this must be too much for her; nothing masked pain better than insensibility.
"I don't know, love, I just don't know."
She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder in a blatant show of affection, much to the disquiet of the man crossing the street from the other corner, who tugged the collar of his thick coat up just a little bit higher and averted his gaze as he passed them in silence, eyes flitting up briefly to look at Kaoru's face before returning to their fixation with the ground before his feet.
Kenshin wrapped his arm around her tightly, tucking her head under his chin to hide his expression. What he wanted so desperately to hide from Kaoru was that not being able to discover the identity of the alleged murderer was slowly driving him to madness. Sometimes when he was alone, he was overwhelmed by the sensation that the room was whirling around him and that everyone knew something that they were keeping from him. The look on every face around him seemed to be a depreciative one, as if he were the lowest creature on earth. He sighed and turned his thoughts back to the lovely woman in his arms, pulling her closer to him as if to reassure himself that she was indeed real.
I remember everything
The words we spoke on freezing South Street
And all those mornings watching you get ready for school
You combed your hair inside that mirror
The one you painted blue and glued with jewelry tears
Something about those bright colors
would always make you feel better
But now we speak with ruined tongues
And the words we say aren't meant for anyone
It's just a mumbled sentence to a passing acquaintance
But there was once you
Kenshin felt the coldness emanating from Kaoru like a disease of which he couldn't find source or treat, and each day their conversation grew more forced and artificial. He tried hard to rationalize their division, to explain away the stake that was being driven between them at a rate so painfully slow that he could see each of their ties slowly being severed only to find that no blood dripped from their mutual wounds. She had final exams to study for, he told himself, which greedily ate out of her time like a jealous lover. He had long ago taken over the cooking and housework, not only because he was more adept at such things but to free as much of her schedule as possible for schoolwork, yet he felt as though he rarely saw her face save for when they went to bed at night, drained and exhausted, and during his morning ritual of watching her dress. They spoke little but formalities, simple questions inquiring about each other's days and the like, and his heart grew a little heavier day by day. Her eyes began to look as suspicious as everyone else's around him, and he wondered how he could have missed that before.
They did not talk of murder, or of the past, or of the future. There had been a time, brief though it may have been, when they would be open about everything. They had both laid their hearts bare only to find that some scars, it seemed, would never heal quite properly. Unconsciously, Kenshin let his hand drift up and trail down the long scar on his cheek. Some scars never healed at all.
He remembered those words she once said to him, that she realized and sympathized, if not understood, the pain that he went through, that she wanted to always be there for him to mend his soul when he dropped the tentatively glued-together pieces and allowed them to be shattered. For a while, she had been perfect, he had been whole, even if the whole was nothing more than the a bag of the dust that had been collected after he was torn into pieces too many times. She had held up the steady flame of her quiet candle to slice her way through the dense thickness of the crumbling walls he'd placed around himself. And he'd thought that he might have had a chance for happiness and peace then, for a while he'd thought that he could have himself back.
But now he felt the same thing he always had, the frantic scrambling of his mind as it tried to find a foothold in a vertical wall of loose sand, and it was so useless to believe anything but the worst of those around him. He wondered if Kaoru noticed the gun he held to his head, and if anything mattered when you were already dead. If there was a time he had needed her more, he couldn't think of it.
Kenshin had taken up music as a way to escape the blinding pressure of his mind, and to fill the foreboding silence of their once-cheerful home. He couldn't understand why Kaoru was distancing herself, becoming more and more like he used to be as an assassin, when he'd withdrawn into himself to hide from the inescapable guilt. As his fingers deftly plucked out a melody on the old guitar he'd found stashed away in the back of the attic space and covered with dust, he tried to let go of all his problems and just focused on the pathetic music he was able to create. He knew he would never be any good, but the relief of having something for his nervous fingers to do and his whirling head to concentrate on was worth the assault on his sensitive ears.
But now we speak with ruined tongues
And the words we say aren't meant for anyone
It's just a mumbled sentence to a passing acquaintance
But there was once you
You said you hate my suffering
And you understood
And you'd take care of me
You'd always be there
Well where are you now?
Kaoru was away from him in more ways than one; Kenshin tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, much like a young boy would do in response to the reappearance of his deepest, darkest fear. The bed squeaked in gentle protest to his rocking, but he didn't notice while he waited for Kaoru to finish her schoolwork, which was once more occupying the entire kitchen table, and come up to bed. He felt as though he'd been waiting for an eternity or longer; maybe she would just leave him. No, she promised she'd always be there for him. Where was she?
Kenshin let his mind drift away as he sat patiently; he remembered, oh how he remembered. When they first married, they'd had all sorts of plans. They were going to travel the world, move back to Japan, see art museums and operas, go to concerts, and, eventually, have children of their own and settle down to a loving family life. All of that was now tantalizingly out of reach, they didn't even know each other anymore. The dreams were slipping farther away as the moments passed all too fleetingly. He pressed his mouth against his knees to stifle a quiet sob.
The familiar tugging at his neck assaulted him when he leaned forward to desperately straighten the bedcovers, and he quickly reached into his shirt to pull out the locket she'd given him. The tarnish on the previously shiny surface was saddening to him, but no amount of rubbing with his sleeve would restore its luster. Slowly, as if he didn't want to actually view the contents, he popped the clasp open and the two perfectly shaped halves opened in his palm. There it was, her lovely ebony hair. He gave half a smile to her ghost that watched him from the corner of his mind; he had loved to tangle his hands in that hair, to run his fingers through it and watch it cascade over his palms like a waterfall of black silk. His hands fisted unconsciously, fingers curling towards palms like he used to do when he had to hold himself back from her; he shook his head. He shouldn't have to do that now. The hair he held in his hand should be proof of that.
"Dammit!" It was like he watched himself in slow motion, detached from his own actions, as he flung the locket as hard as he could across the room. In cruel mockery of his misery, it shattered, much to his horrified surprise. Suppressing a cry, he scrambled across the bed and leapt to where his precious memento lay as broken as he'd ever been. For a few blind moments, he struggled to piece it back together; there had to be a way to make it whole again. He could fix it, he could... It couldn't be ruined forever... There was always a way to mask the fact that something was destroyed, always...
Dropping his head in his hands, he accepted defeat and reached for his guitar, ignoring the tears that were starting to slide down his cheeks. Idle hands were the devil's workshop, wasn't that the saying? A tentative song mumbled under his breath, though he didn't fully understand that he was letting the words escape him. The tune was off-key and senseless, but he felt better. The lyrics, had he stopped to listen to himself, were appalling, but the least of his worries laid in what he sang.
His fingers fumbled against the strings that could stand to be replaced. Nothing was in tune, he realized, but it didn't seem to matter. There was no one to play for, no reason to sound good. He couldn't play, anyhow, he just made noise to cover the silence that was screaming in his head so loudly that he thought he would rip his hair out in an attempt to cover the sound with pain. Shifting to stare down at his awkward fingers as they plucked out half-hearted melodies, he began to slowly rock himself as he played. 'Give me... peace...'
Someone had murdered his wife, someone had murdered his new wife's parents. Someone was responsible. He didn't know who someone was. He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know. Someone... someone... Where was his wife?
"Help me..."
Haligh, haligh, a lie, haligh
The plans were never finalized
But left to hang like yarn and twine
Dangling before my eyes
As you tear and tear your hair from roots
From that same head you have twice removed now
A lock of hair you said would prove
Our love would never die
And I sing and sing of awful things
The pleasure that my sadness brings
As my fingers press onto the strings
In yet another clumsy chord
"You know who did it, don't you?" He spat, his tone dripping venom. "You know! Don't look at me like that, I know you're lying to me! Tell me everything you know, you heartless bastard. I deserve the truth; don't look at me that way! TELL ME!"
The man that glared back at him looked like he could burn a hole through Kenshin with his eyes. Who was this awful man that stared him down so viciously?
"Who are you?" His opponent remained so stoic that Kenshin could almost feel appreciation for the other's mastery of such a difficult art. "You son of a bitch... Who are you! Give me a name!"
He didn't see Kaoru watching from the corner, looking almost desperately afraid, so focused was he on the argument before him.
"You know who killed my wife, I know you do. You think that your mask of silence will save you, but you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. You obviously don't know who I am, what I could do to you." The lack of response was infuriating, but Kenshin attempted not to let it phase him. "If you give me the information I'm asking for, I won't be forced to take actions that we'll both regret. Make the wise choice, tell me your name and tell me what you know about my wife. Don't make me stain her memory with your worthless blood."
"Kenshin," Kaoru tentatively spoke from where she tried to appear like she wasn't cowering.
"Not now, Kaoru. Don't worry, love, it's going to be fine. I'll take care of this. I'll take care of you."
"Kenshin," she pressed. "This isn't going to get you anywhere. Please, let me help you."
"No, stay out of this, I don't want you to be hurt. Let me take care of you."
"You need help," she whispered. "You need me to take care of you. You can't..."
"Don't worry so much, just stay where you are." He paused briefly, apparently taking in words that Kaoru could not hear. He was glad she was out of earshot. In fact, when he glanced over at her, he saw that she was crying silently, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clasped tightly over her ears.
"So that's how it is?" He listened intently. "I certainly was never given a choice that would have left my wife still alive today. And I refuse to believe that." There was a long pause in which he contemplated. "I do not have to live with these choices, and I will not kill myself for this. I'd rather kill you."
Kaoru gasped, her hand pressed against her mouth, as Kenshin leapt straight toward the mirror –the very same one that he once loved to watch her sit before– he'd been arguing with, going through all the motions of drawing a katana without seeming to notice that there was nothing but empty air at his side. Shaking off her fear-induced paralysis, she stumbled out of the corner that she'd backed into when she found him talking to his reflection and tackled him to the ground.
"Kenshin!" she shouted. "Kenshin, come back to me! This is not real... none of this is real!"
"Kaoru, no! He'll kill you too! He killed my wife! He killed your parents!"
Kaoru shook him almost viciously, her eyes wide and panicked. "No he didn't, Kenshin! There is no he, there's no one in this room but you and me and I killed them all, it was me! Please, for the love of God, please stop this." Her voice trailed off as she choked on her tears. With a show of strength that she didn't know he still possessed, Kenshin sat upright, sending her sprawling across the floor.
"You did... what?" His tone bordered on a growl.
"I killed them all, it was my fault." Her shoulders shook with sobs. "I just wanted you all for myself. I never wanted you to leave me. I wanted to take care of you. It was the only way!"
Kenshin blinked once, then dropped his gaze to his hands. It was strange that he couldn't feel the glass embedded in them, but he could see the rivulets of blood running down his fingers and dripping onto the floor. It would ruin the hardwood if he didn't clean it up soon, he mused.
'Kaoru killed my wife. Kaoru killed her parents. Kaoru loves me. Kaoru wants me. Kaoru needs me. Kaoru knows I was a murderer. Kaoru still loves me. Kaoru is a murderer. Kaoru killed my wife. Kaoru took care of me. Kaoru takes care of me. Kaoru's insane. This is all insane. I'm insane. Kaoru needs me. I need Kaoru. I love Kaoru. Kaoru...'
"...deserve to die." Through the confusion of his thoughts, he only caught the end of her sentence. "Please kill me. I have sinned terribly."
"That's... what I thought you said..." Kenshin clutched at his head suddenly. This was all too bewildering; his head was spinning and the room was starting to go black.
'What am I supposed to do? I always do what she asks. I always do exactly what she wants. She tells me what to do and I do it, because that's the way it always it. That's the way it's supposed to be. I love her.'
With one swift motion, he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. When she pulled away to come up for air, her eyes smouldering as they met his, he smiled serenely and snapped her neck. If it were possible, he thought she was smiling when her body dropped forward to drape over his lap. The perfection of her shining hair haloed her head, hiding the unnatural way it rested against him. Softly, slowly, he ran his fingers through that hair that he'd always loved. His smile brightened; he loved this woman very much.
"'I never wanted you to leave me,'" he mumbled. "She wanted me all for herself... So beautiful..." He gently lifted her body and reverently laid her on the bed. As he climbed in next to her, he was careful not to mar her hair. The hideous angle of her head accentuated how perfect her hair was. As if suddenly remembering, he fished a small plastic bag out of his pocket and held it up to admire all the tiny pieces of his locket. He loved that locket; he loved her. With the locket in one hand and his other hand buried in her silken hair, he laid his head on her chest and sighed deeply.
"Love you, love you..."
Haligh, haligh, an awful lie
This weight will now be satisfied
I'm gonna give you only one reply
I know not who I am
But I talk in the mirror
To the stranger that appears
Our conversations are circles
Always one sided
Nothing is clear
Except we keep coming back
To this meaning that I lack
He says the choices were given
Now you must live them
Or just not live
But do you want that?
A/N: Ah, yes. Well, here you have it. The song is, obviously "Haligh, Haligh, A Lie, Haligh" by Bright Eyes. (So brilliant.) If you don't have it, get it. It's on the Fevers & Mirrors CD, and if all else fails./.. Welcome to the World Wide Web. Don't have much to say about this story, really. I (MSW) wrote it, but without IxB-chan's (ooo, new nickname?) amazingly creative help, it would have been nothing, because she inspired it, helped with the setting, the plot, the character development, and... well... pretty much everything that makes a story, she helped me to bring together. She also made me fix the lyrics, because I'm stupid and she rocks. Plus she read every section as I wrote it (well, except the last two because of circumstances and she has school:sob:)and was there every step of the way to say "Hey, that sounds dumb, fix it." or "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if...?" So bow before her! ON YOUR KNEES!
Oh, and if I get reviews asking me to update this soon, I will explode. I will literally throw my hands in the air and pray to be struck down by lightning. Or a flying ice cream truck. This is a ONE-SHOT. There will be NO MORE or I will go INSANE! In the membrane.
By the way! Did anyone catch my references? I skimmed back through, and while I'm sure there are more, I want to know who caught the ones to Lewis Black, Nirvana, and Coheed & Cambria, and, most obviously, Faulkner. But there's more, oh there's more. I just can't think of them off the top of my head. Anyhow...
Happy trails and happy reading, don't let us make you too depressed or freaked out!