Wassup. Review. This chapter is dedicated to IzzyCardova, for being the first reviewer. Zero's veiws on therepy are not concrete. Talk to someone if you have suicidal thoughts, even if it's just a friend, or, Hell, no one else to turn to, talk to me. Literally. I've been there. Zero's situation is special. He is an immortal being. Talk to someone.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Chapter Two.

I should have killed her. I don't know why I didn't, but half-awake in the middle of the night, I just couldn't bring myself to. I'd told myself to grab the gun. I didn't. I thought it was because I'd assumed the knocks at my door were nothing, just the persisting headache. But maybe, just maybe, I'd actually known that it was her, and that was why Bloody Rose wasn't in my hand.

I opened my eyes, pushing my hands through my hair, and looked over at Yuki.

She was still. Her back was to me, arms clutched to her sides, and she was tense. Her feet were pulled up, an she was in a ball. She was edging close to the edge of the bed, almost falling off.

This wasn't the Yuki I remembered. She used to sprawl out on the bed, taking up as much room as possible.

What had happened to her?

I got up out of bed, sliding on a belt and clipping Bloody Rose into the holster. I'd fallen asleep in my clothes. I combed through my hair with my fingers; if I owned a real comb, I wasn't aware of it. "Z—" mumbled Yuki, in her sleep. I looked at her. She was silent, so I simply grabbed a jacket and slipped outside.

My apartment, in a brownstone in the rundown part of town, eight hundred a month, filled with petty criminals and hard-at-hearing seniors, had a beautiful veiw of the ocean. The balcony, giant, big enough for parties, which I didn't have nor go to (last night being an exemption), which opened out from the living room, housed a few stacked metal folding chairs, a shovel, and a handy hunting knife that may or may not have torn through more than a few vampires' guts. It was currently immbeded in a wooden column.

I rested on the railing, looking out at the waves.

I was an okay fisherman, but when you don't go to any formal fishing holes, the average amount of fish you catch is about three a year . . . and I think I caught maybe one walking by the bridge with a pole in the eight-ish nine-ish years I've lived in Coos Bay.

No fish were biting today, anyway, and the only thing I saw in the water was that seal that passed by every morning.

I dug a pack of Marlboro Lights out of my pocket and lit it with a plain, white plastic lighter, a freebie from the tobbaco store I went to when I was low on money.

I didn't really have a formal job . . . here and there from the Hunters' Agency that I'd been born into, moving boxes for my neighbour, Old Frances (who is a guy), sometimes paintballing Old Frances's daughter, Emily's, boyfriend's car if he was being an ass to her. Again, not formal, not a lotta cash, but I couldn't really put up with people these days-actually, who am I kidding, me versus people is the story of my fucking life.

I was halfway through the cigarette when it happened.

"Z-ZERO-" from inside.

I dropped the cigarette on the concrete and ran back through the doors, bursting into the bedroom.

Yuki was still asleep.

But something was wrong: she was flailing about, breathing like she was running a marathon, and she was crying. "S-stop-please-I don't-"

"Yuki-"

"Kaname, STOP-!"

"Yuki, wake up!" Her eyes opened, brown but unfocused, too dark, staring and panicked and she was hyperventilating.

"K-" she started, afraid, scrambling backwards against the headboard. "Kaname, please-d-don't-"

"Yuki-"

"Don't-d-don't-Zero-!"

"Yuki, look at me!"

Yuki was shaking her head wildly, ignoring me. I jumped onto the bed and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eye.

"No-you're not-"

"Yuki-"

I don't really know what happened. One minute, I was looking into familiar glimmering brown eyes, the next, literally, I was flat on my back on the bed, and she was hovering over me, eyes too light, fangs out. Crap.

I sat completely still; I wondered if she could hear my heart beating that loud; probably. Purebloods.

"If you're not him," Yuki hissed. Her eyes were glowing blood-lust red. "Then I'll just have to bite you to make sure, won't I?"

Oh holy Hell. "Yuki—" Her mouth set in a grimace, and then she lowered her head.

Breath on my neck.

I gasped. A flashback was threatening, but I pushed it away. This was not Shizuka Hio; this was Yuki Kuran. I ignored the pang that her name gave me. Really, that should be my mantra. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

"You're not moving." Observed Yuki.

I tried to talk; couldn't.

Teeth against my skin. A soft exhale from the brunette, a snap of the jaw, and liquid life poured into her mouth.

I, on the other hand, jolted. Holy Hell, holy fucking Hell, does that hurt. The pain let up a little, until she gulped again, in which the whole my-veins-are-draining context came back. I forced my eyes closed, trying not to move.

Yuki at the Academy—how could she just willingly offer up her blood like that to me, if this was what it felt like? Dear god, she must've been miserable.

When she pulled back, I had to bite my bottom lip, to keep from crying out, but a short "UGH—" found itself past my lips.

Yuki, when she stopped, was up in less than three seconds, and back in two; she pressed a hand towel to my neck.

I grabbed the towel and threw it at the wall with a strangled sound of pain.

"Z-Zero, I—" Stuttered the brunette, scrambling for the rag again.

"It's okay." I said huskily, in almost a whisper. "I understand."

Yuki climbed back on top of me. "Look, Zero, I'm sorry—"

"It's okay, I—" my hands fisted into the blankets, the rag back at the bite. "Yuki—"

She glared, and pressed harder; I gasped loudly.

"Stop—"

"I thought you were Kaname." She said, lowering herself to rest on my chest. His name was tainted with disgust and fear.

"Yeah, I got that, quit strangling me—"

"Shut up; it's healing."

"Make it stop healing!"

Yuki laughed, but didn't stop.

We were both quiet, a moment, the only sound in the room being my harsh breathing. She was turned away, looking almost down, her legs in between mine. Her feet reached my knees. My arm went up, to the back of her neck, and she tensed, as if to spring away if I hurt her. I traced a patch of purple skin.

"What did he do to you?" I asked quietly, in the silence. She shook her head. "I'm not kidding, Yuki, if he—"

"If he what, Zero?" She looked up, staring at me with eyes that were no longer red.

"I don't know, I don't know what he did." The words were serious and fast, on an exhale. "You're too good for him, Yuki. You're better than him." Plus, he's your brother. Um.

She was silent a moment. "I'm not special."

I blinked at her. "You're a pureblood." I replied. "You are Kaname's wife—"

"Shuddup."

"What?"

"Sh—I told him he was acting weird, and asked him what was wrong. He said—" she stopped. Exhaled. "He said, 'you are not special. I could kill you right here, and no one would notice. I could drain you dry, and nobody would care.'"

I swallowed. "Y—"

"And I thought, 'no, no one would.'"

"Y—"

"Then, I thought of you."

Wordlessly, my arms folded around her.

"I'm glad you didn't kill me," Yuki whispered. I was silent. "I would have let you. I didn't care about what happened to me, I just . . . I just wanted to see you. I wanted to t-tell you . . . I'm making waffles, do you have any blueberries." I half-sighed.

She rolled onto the bed next to me, watching the ceiling. My arms fell limply to the coverlet. "Who the Hell has blueberries?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Probably failed.

"He does." She whispered. Shivered. "God, Zero, I . . . he fired all of the servants. Made me cook."

"I refuse to accept that that is why you are traumatized. Unless you cooking for him involves things you'd rather me not talk about." I peeled the rag away gingerly. It was sticky with blood, but the wound was gone.

"Perv." Yuki accused. "No, I just . . . for a year, it was okay. I would cook and clean, and that was all. It was okay. He was . . . well, like he is to everyone else. No emotion. He never—he never told me he l-loved me, he just. I was there. I was just there. Like a fixture or a piece of furniture. Zero, he . . . I think we kissed maybe twice, that whole year. And he did it, sure, but only in front of people. Like it wasn't happening, or. It wasn't real."

"And the honeymoon?" I asked carefully, cautiously.

She laughed humorlessly. "It was a joke. No exotic places—he took me the mansion, showed me the room I'd be sleeping in, and went to his fucking study."

"That's all?"

"N-no, he." She took a deep breath. "H-he h . . . hit me."

"What." The voice was simple, angry. Not at her, of course-well maybe that she didn't tell me before now, but that couldn't be helped.

"And . . . other th-things. Zero—"

"Other things, what do you mean, other things—"

"Zero, please drop it." Yuki said strongly. Then, eyes closed, hands on top of her eyes. "Please," she whispered.

I looked at her, outraged. Then, I bolted to my feet, heading for the door.

"Zero!" Yuki called, running after me. "You can't-" she said, grabbing my sleeve. I could see the living room. "You can't go a-after him-" the stutter was because I shook her off. "Please!" She called, then, a few feet from the front door. " I forbid you!" She half-screamed.

I halted. "Is that an order, princess."

"Zero, please don't make me." She sounded close to tears.

I took a breath. "Is. That. An. Order."

"Z-Zero. Yes. Yes, it is." A shiver of breath, hers, told me the tears were already falling.

I stood, frozen a moment. Then. "Yuki, go back to the bedroom."

"What?" Yuki asked. "What-Zero-"

"Go. Now." I bit out through clenched teeth.

A muffled sob. "You-you're ordering me around just like him."

"Yuki, please." She sniffled and spun running away. The door slammed. It probably wasn't even on purpose; when Yuki was upset, she wouldn't slam the door; she'd lightly close it. She was probably just moving too fast to take care. Purebloods.

A moment of silence, thoughts of him, and him and her, and her and him, boiling in my mind.

It took two minutes.

I don't know what you would call it; a tantrum, a fit of rage. I didn't really call it anything. Leading up to it, I was just thinking ,and during them, I couldn't think. It had happened three times before this: Right after I woke up from being bitten, in that blood-filled house, when the shock wore off in the Academy before it was really an academy (that was the time that Yuki found me by the fireplace trying to tear off my flesh), and about an hour after Yuki left with Kaname. I suppose I had a condition, but I quite frankly didn't care. Not a mass murder, haven't killed myself. No therapist needed.

The first thing I did, upon snapping, was scream. It wasn't pain, or anything. Rage, mostly. I dropped to my knees, ran out of air, started again. Put my hand through the door. Kicked a hole in the wall. Next came the floor, three of them, and then the door four more times. The door, because it had blocked me. The door, because if had been out of it sooner, I would have ripped that jackass's head off twenty times over already.

And the door, because I really just wanted to hit myself, for not getting out sooner, not knowing earlier. Not taking her, kidnapping her, whatever it took to keep her away from him.

Maybe if I'd gone to their wedding, and let myself be seen, at least, she would have asked for help.

And then, after my tantrum, I retreated to the basement, locking the door behind me, and left the light off.

Seriously, lovelies, Zero is not a good medical role model. Don't supress it; talk. I'm not kidding. Seriously.

Two-thousand words. You're welcome.