Blind

Part III

Observing Habits

The difference was staggering.

The fact that he could feel it was like a cold rush washing over him;

It flooded him as soon as he stepped through the apartments front door.

The tones, the haunting black about him changed almost instantly. They softened, muting to a dark gray, a shade lighter than the haunting black. A shade lighter than the all-consuming darkness he'd first woken to. It starkly contrasted itself.

The air though, he couldn't describe. Though the temperature was well adjusted to suit the inside occupants he couldn't help suppress the cold shiver that ran across his spine, for the room felt strangely cold. Not in the temperature itself, bit in the sense that the room felt cold because it was untouched and unused.

The room felt barren.

It didn't feel like a place that should be called home.

The hand holding his arm suddenly pulled him once more into moving, keys jingling as they were removed. They stopped briefly outside what Ken assumed to be the spare bedrooms door, where Ran let the bag at his shoulder slide to his hand and moved to set it on the inside right of the door. At the bags drop, Ken was once more lead along the hallway and into the bathroom where he was deposited atop the toilet seat.

It wasn't until then that Ran actually broke contact with him. It was abrupt and his hand left a warm impression upon his skin that almost seemed to burn. Ken brought up his own hand to lay over the impression, unconsciously wanting to keep the fleeting warmth that tingled across his skin.

Sounds could be heard as Ran rummaged through the cabinets beneath the sink, pulling forth a small medical kit. Ken sat still, curiously listening as Ran set the medical kit upon the sink counter to sort through its contents. Listening as Ran turned the sinks taps, to the sound of the water pouring into the basin as he felt for the water temperature.

"Hold out your hand."


Ran noticed it halfway through finishing the wrap on his knuckles, the dark stain on the brunette's side, bleeding through his shirt. In the course of his struggle Ken must have managed to tear the stitches from his side. Ran sighed mentally and verbally voiced his thoughts, "Take off your shirt, it looks like you managed to rip a few of your stitches."

Ken almost flinched and Ran was unsure of the cause, his words or the fact he hadn't noticed. Either way his hand moved to his side, gently laying atop the area; another flinch as his hand moved back slightly in recoil. Ran took this all in with curiosity before turning momentarily to sort through the contents of the medical kit for a second time, looking for a needle and thread. When he turned back, Ken still hadn't removed his shirt.

"Ken… I need to re stitch your side."

"Get Omi." It was almost whispered, darkly contrasting the icy tone he exerted. It wasn't a question; the sudden commanding tone in his voice was enough to startle even Ran. However his brows only knitted slightly together in question when his eyes took in the straining hand holding the hem of his shirt.

He didn't argue, though he thought it curious.


Omi closed the door to the spare room securely behind him, waiting to hear the soft click before sighing. Letting his hand fall from the doors handle he stood straight once more, his eyes going to the lean figure leaning against the wall across from him, his arms folded neatly over his chest; his eyes demanding an explination.

He let out a breath, his voice soft as he stepped away from the door, heading towards the bathroom as the figure followed. "When Ken first arrived here, he was distraught and prone to violent and suicidal tendencies. Considering what happened to him, its understandable. His condition however, only continued to deteriorate from there."

He paused at the water basin, turning the taps to run his hands through the warming temperature. Turning the taps once more, he reached for the hand towel to his right before looking solemnly to the figure now leaning against the doorframe.

"He went berserk two months in on a mission. We tried everything to subdue him, reasoning, force… We couldn't even get near him. We used Youji's wire as a last resort. However we were quickly forced to cut the line when he continued to struggle against the wire, regardless of the injuries he was inflicting upon himself.

We ended up using a tranquilizing dart while he was still tangled within the wire, which we shouldn't have, considering his considerable blood loss. With the numerous injuries obtained during the mission, it was amazing he was even able to stand, let alone going into his berserk rage."

Omi's fingertips rubbed tiredly against his temple. " I asked Manx about it sometime later. She wouldn't go into specifics but from what I gathered, he doesn't feel the pain of inflicted injuries. Something to do with erratic adrenaline rushes that were noted during his Kritiker training." Omi paused, uncertain in whether he should continue. He wasn't sure he had the right to; it wasn't his story to tell.

"Omi."

Omi flinched slightly at the tone, placing his weight atop the counter as he placed his hands against it. There were two ways this information could be taken, and either way, Ken was likely to feel a sense of betrayal.

"When we got home, after that mission, we set to inspecting the numerous injuries he had sustained. We didn't notice anything when we took his shirt off at first, a few miscellaneous scars here and there, nothing outside our line of work. It was when we had to stitch the injury running along his lower torso connecting with his thigh… They start just barely above his torso on his left side, a set of four, his own weapon. Still new and self inflicted, according to Manx, from his time with her and the training unit in Kritiker. It was his second suicidal attempt in their care before he was brought here.

They're not as prominent as they once were, but still noticeable. There almost hidden by the burn marks he'd sustained prior to Kritiker."

Omi sighed once again, pushing at the countertop to stand upright, to fold his arms across his chest, locking his eyes with the figure leaning against the doorframe, "His reasoning is his own, but they're a constant reminder of everything that's been taken from him. Everything he's had to endure just to keep living. A burden he wishes to keep to himself."

Ran let his eye slowly lower to the floor, away from the dejected look Omi's eyes held.

In the spare room, Ken, in his pretense of sleep, lay atop the bed. His hands folded comfortably behind his head atop the pillow as he listened to the voices outside the door.


Darkening dreams, dreams that haunt the soul, devouring the pieces left behind of a now shattered self. Everything seemed to be twisting, flailing within the wind and taking everything away from him once again.

Screams, pained gasps and the sounds of falling ruble; the sounds echoed within the memories replaying; continuous and never ending. They never ceased, they only grew, let loose the nightmare and let grow the fear that never dissipated.

He could still hear them, their voices, the voices of those caught within the explosion. Just as he was, the ones he hadn't gotten to before the blinding flash of light and the deafening roar.

He could still hear the sound of his own thoughts, the thoughts that screamed at him with fear. With such an intensity, it almost bleached out the oppressing darkness, a bloodless white.

It was the soft knock upon the door that brought him from his sleep, from the torturous voices surrounding him. He sat upright with a gasp, breathing heavily.

Why…

He could feel the tension start to throb in his temples, pulsating with the heavy beating of his heart. The pain was starting to wash over him, slowly trickling to life. He let his head fall to the hands within his lap, his fingers pulling at his thick chocolate locks.

The figure at the door watched with an intensity, eyes holding onto him with a worry; he wanted to understand.

His breathing hadn't yet returned to normal when Ran stepped forward, placing a hand softly upon his shoulder. An unwise decision on his part.

Ken shot back, his hand pushing away his own and stumbled back upon the bed. His whole body shook, rigid with tension. His breathing almost stopped, his ears trying to hear above the beating of his own heart.

"Ken…"

Ken's heart skipped a beat, his breathing stopping all together at the voice.

"Ken…" Ran tried again, trying to break through the fear gripped terror. "Calm down, Listen to my voice…"


"Sit here."

Complying, Ken situated himself atop the wooden barstool, his hands tentatively reaching out to brush atop the counter to turn his stool appropriately.

It was awkward, and uncomfortable to say the least, he felt it within himself, and within the air. The usual easygoing air about him, his outgoing nature, both had left him in one sudden instant.

He worked to find his voice, but he couldn't get it to breach his own lips. No thoughts came to his mind, nothing but an abyss of silence. A non-existent voice did not have the ability to carry itself to the kitchens only other occupant as he made his way about it noisily with the closing of cabinets and clinking of glass set upon counters. A voice wouldn't rise when his own thoughts wouldn't form coherently in the darkness.

He was dead weight, shuffled from person to person when they no longer cared.

He felt like a burden; useless.

His fingers held to the materials of his jeans.

A burden had no purpose; it was useless and only furthered the weight upon the shoulders it was burdening. What hope had he? What hope had a person who held no hope to begin with, only doubts?

Ken's head shot up, turning slightly to each side, trying to pick up any sound in the sudden silence or detect any movement from the redhead. "Easy, I'm reading directions."

Ran's voice startled him, but soon put him at ease, his shoulders quickly dropping to relax. However much it may have relaxed him, Ran's gaze focused on the fingers that had moved to the countertop, knuckles white with a grip that never relinquished. Another habit he'd noticed.

Leaning over the counter, Ran straightened, pushing the book away from him slightly with his movement as his eyes traveled about the kitchen when the realization hit him; it was the silence.

It was the silence that Ken feared.

He looked once more over the kitchen before finding the small radio hidden atop the books and plants adorning the shelves. Gently turning its small black knob, the sound began to slowly trickle to life. And he watched yet again as the brunette's hands visibly relaxed and loosened in their hold to the counter, traces of an invisible smile washing over his face.

The soft voice of the announcer quickly settled over the unbearable silence for Ken, easily filling in the uncomfortable void.

Ran let a ghost of a smile grace his own lips, his eyes softening at the tension that visibly eased away from the insecurity the brunette faced. While he may not be much of a talker himself, Ran knew filling the silence with useless words would do nothing for Ken, nor would they settle the unease. They would only let grow the uncertainty of the words and let grow the feeling of being pitied; Ran knew Ken enough to know this.

While spoken words were necessary for communication, they were often needed to sooth and uneasy ones would be detrimental, but at the same time he could see with hearing now his primary sense, he relied upon it heavily. And as an assassin his instincts and reflexes would be in overdrive with the uncertainty, the unknowing. The silence would be fear itself.


He'd taken to observing his every action, his every move. Down to the tension of his muscles, his reactions and the lack they're of. The tentative outreach of his hand, the softened touch of his fingertips as they reached out to brush against any surface, the clenching of his hands when distraught, tense or afraid. Down to the movement of his lips, his mouth, his frown, the smile it never displayed, the tension and fear it tried to hide. They were new habits recently brought forth as he fought to deal with everything happening to him at once.

Ran found the old, the normal, everyday habits the most interesting, like the gentle tug upon his bangs when deep in thought. The growl he made when he was only slightly annoyed with something, the way he played with his food when he wanted to ask something, but couldn't quite get it out. The way he fell off his chair because of his own clumsiness, and yet somehow managed to end up with one leg still atop the chair while he himself was sprawled across the floor, and stunned.

But Ran missed the habits Ken had before, the clumsiness, the enthusiasm, the jump or yell upon the sofa he used to make when his favorite team delivered the winning score. The over watering of plants in the shop, his out of breath and disheveled look when he was late for a shift. His hot headed, brash and headstrong nature. These were the things he no longer displayed.

They were so different; a before and after.

Before he was brash, unhesitant, and headstrong.

Before he laughed, a beautiful sound that knew no limits, just like the smile he was unafraid to let show, a dazzling display that affected all. It always held hope.

The Ken he knew, always managed to somehow surprise him. Always changing his perception, his understanding of him and leaving Ran right back where he started, at the very beginning.

Just like he was now.

The Ken now, the brunette that now sat before him was like a record on continuous repeat; looping, endlessly repeating itself. He was silent, timid and nervous. He hesitated where he would never have done so before. He was tense and angry at everything; and he was afraid. This brunette held no hope.

Fear was something easily recognizable to him, all he had to do was look into any one persons eyes to find it. But Ken's eyes were hidden beneath a blindfold; even still, it was his habits, the way he carried himself that confirmed his findings. It was blatant, it shouted, it screamed.

At the same time, however, it wasn't something easily recognizable. With just a glance, you'd overlook the small almost transparent details; if you weren't looking to find them.

Ken tried to hide them, with the cautiousness he put forth in his steps but they were in the tension in the way he stood, in his every breath, it was in his every move.

As he watched he saw the broken figure the brunette, once so full of life had become; and it disturbed him.


Out of the new habits that arose, the most notable was done in a hope that the fear that was created because of his lack of sight would calm; the silence.

Every night Ken would find himself within the living room. Regardless of the items he hit, or the bruises he accumulated on each nightly excursion, he'd make his way to the sofa after blindly fumbling with the television. He made no attempt to make himself comfortable, yet he sat so that his chin rest upon his knees, drawing them up to wrap his arms tightly around them.

It was like this every night right around the same time. Sometimes later depending on how hard or how long he'd tried to fall asleep before finally giving up.

The sound of the television was always turned up just enough for him to hear and never louder. Made so, Ran believed, so as not to disturb him, he didn't want it known.

The living room was always dark by the time Ken stumbled in, the lights having been turned off long ago for the night. The only light source would come from the television, as the footage flickered across the screen and over the brunettes figure.

Awake he never moved, it was like he never allowed himself to become comfortable, he was constantly on alert, listening to everything, waiting almost, and his body was always tense.

Ran waited for when sleep did eventually over take him hours later. He waited for the tell tale signs, when his head would begin to slowly drop and his arms would finally grow lax in their grip. When his head would finally fall to the pillows, and his body would bring itself to curl up upon the sofa. He waited for the first whiles of sleep and watched as it brought the only relaxed expression that graced his face nowadays.


Ran had usually retired to his room for the evening by the time Ken had left his own for the living room. It was rare to ever catch him leaving his own room, let alone hear him.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, he could hear the sound of the television a peak higher than normal, carrying itself down into the hallways. Tonight, the excited replaying of the announcer didn't broadcast over the television; tonight he wasn't listening to the soccer match.

Was it curiosity that brought him from his bed? Or a carefully masked concern?

Whatever it was, it quickly brought him to find the brunette awake and tense. His body sitting rigid upon the sofa, his knuckles bleeding white with his arms wrapped stiffly about his knees.

Curiosity had him stop and stand still within the entrance. Concern made him want to take a step further.

And yet he hesitated when Ken's head moved slightly to where he stood, his presence noticed. When his head turned back a moment later, Ran could see the hands clutching the fabric of his pants tighten within his hands and he took that step forward, stepping from his standing against the wall.

Ken wasn't listening to the soccer match, it's a movie Ran doesn't recognize playing across the screen when he moves to settle down upon the sofa next to the brunette and bring his arm to lay behind his head across the sofa's backing. It's something with car explosions and gunfire every few seconds, mafia lords and drug rings, "There are better things to listen to," he says.

He quickly finds the remote and changes it to something with light humor.

Ran can see the laughter that wants so much to return upon his face, but Ken does not laugh; Ran knows the fear outweighs it, and he knows the tears that would fall if he let it return.

At the weight that settles down beside him, Ken relaxes, even if only a little bit it's a significant change. When Ran stays, and watches the movie playing as the brunette listens, Ran can feel the tension leave his ragged body the longer he stays.

It's nearly three before he feels the telling weight against his shoulder; the brunette having finally surrendered to the sleep so desperately calling to him.


They'd settled into a comfortable routine after that and although Ken has his own room set up, Ran lets him sleep upon the sofa undisturbed unless circumstances warrant it.

Ran however, knows the sofa not to be the most comfortable of places to sleep and he knows he'll never hear the brunette complain. He never speaks unless prompted too.

That's probably what prompted him to buy the small CD player, or at least, that's what he told himself when he bought the handful of recordings from the bookstore.

That's what he told himself when he placed the small player within Ken's room and left the volume just as it was within the living room. So he wouldn't have to sleep upon the sofa, but rather within the bed and beneath the blankets.


It was oddly strange to find a steady silence within the nights now, and it was the silence that he found oddly strange as he sat reading within his room.

The brunette had fallen asleep earlier than usual that day, but within the hour he could hear the sleep turn fitful and he listened to the haunted toss and turn and the rustle of sheets through the open doors and thin walls.

It was the silence that had him put the book in hand aside and take from his eyes the glasses atop his nose.

He couldn't breath.

It was overbearing, the pressure. It was pressing into him from all angles, smothering him, taking the air from his lungs.

It was suffocating, the thickness of the air, the heaviness; the darkness.

It was overbearing.

The tension between his temples was quick to form and was quickly becoming unbearable between the sudden sharp twinges to the low dull and alternating thud.

Ran brought himself to stand within Ken's doorway, leaving the only light source the overhead light within the hallway to spill into the room as he tried to assess the situation.

Ken had barely managed to push himself to his hands and knees from lying upon his stomach on the bed when he stopped. His forehead hovered inches above the sheets as a hand tangled through disheveled chocolate locks. The hand holding him up shook slightly, his fingers tangling with the sheets about him

The fingers through his hair continued straining through his mused locks as his body rocked back slightly, a muffled moan slightly escaping his lips. The hand moves shakily to bush over the rough texture of the bandage wrapped about his eyes.

Ran's own eyes narrow and he waits a brief moment before knocking on the door.

The sound startles Ken, his head jerking up towards him. The action causes a low hiss to immediately curse through his clenched teeth as he lowers his head once again at the pain it causes.

His breathing is slightly irregular and his hand has once again gone to clutch his temple.

But Ran is no longer within the doorway, the only indication of his presence is left by the sound of his retreating footsteps; footsteps Ken cannot hear over the pounding within his head.

He doesn't hear the sound of the returning footfall either as it enters his room. All Ken registers is the cool warmth against his forehead, almost willing the pain to stop.

He doesn't register the feel of the extra weight upon the bed as the bed slops slightly with it. He doesn't think about the cool hands drawing him close, pulling him into their lap. Only about the sudden coolness against his fevered flesh, and the soothing fingers running through his hair as he unknowingly clutches the others wrist.

He doesn't hear the concerned words as they are spoken as his head falls to Ran's shoulder, only the feel of the fingers gently massaging his head.

The feel of cool lips against his own briefly startles him, but he doesn't fight it, he doesn't have the strength. He doesn't try to push away from them when that mouth opens and a cold liquid is forced into his. He's still as he is made to swallow it, water dripping from his mouth as those lips detach themselves briefly before fingers gently hook under his chin and force his head up and those lips return once again, prying his mouth open and forcing him to swallow once more before leaving him breathless.

He can faintly hear the voice calling his name, the intensity to it, the worry, but it feels far away and the air feels lighter, less pressing about him.

That's all, before he falls lifelessly in Ran's arm, his fingers continuing to work through his hair and run across his back.

Ran sighs as he feels Ken begin to drift to an induced slumber. The pills he forced upon him already beginning to take affect, relieving the pain. But he'll stay with him throughout the night, his fingers continuing to play through chocolate locks as he himself picks up his book once again.

Periodically through the night, Ken will wake for a moment or two and he'll be unable to smoothly fall back to sleep and his body will begin to toss. This is when Ran does something Ken will find curious later.

Ran will softly start so speak and Ken's not to sure of the words, unable to hear exactly what it is he's saying at first, but slowly as his voice begins to break through and calmly wash over him, Ken settles, his head pressed once again against Ran's leg and Ran's fingers once again find their way through his hair and he begins to make out a little more of what he is saying. Its not so much what Ran is saying that intrigues him, more so is the fact that rather, Ran is reading to him.

And it's like the sun across his skin, warming him; soothing his every fear temporarily, and he begins to once again fall asleep, just as curiosity begins to creep into the back of his thoughts.

TBC


Once again I apologize for the I>long /I> delay! Also for this rather lengthy chapter. Over the course of two weeks, after finishing this, I've gone through, chopped, edited, revised, and butchered it. After two weeks of editing, if there is a mistake in there, I doubt I'm going to find it. For which I am currently looking for a couple of Beta's. If you're interested, my email address is within the profile page.

This chapter, I'm not particularly happy with. The style has changed dramatically within it, and it bothers me a great deal. The next chapter will though, I believe be going back more to the beginning style.As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!