Title: A Thousand Miles
Series: Saiyuki AU
Rating: T
AN: My own version of the end from Gojyo and Hakki's POV.
"Was he really that great, daddy?"
A thin writhing tendril of smoke flitted across the porch from the open window.
"Yes, he really was." A sad smile played across pale lips as the small red-head pressed back against the dark green linen shirt.
"Don't sugar coat things for the kids, 'Kai, he was an obnoxious brat that ate everything in sight!"
"Gojyo…please, this is Goku we're talking about, he had his reasons for everything that happened."
"Hey Dad," a chubby little hand wrested itself in leather breaches, "What about Sanzo-sama? What happened to him?"
Gojyo reached down and pulled the boy onto the window sill, lightly tapping out the cigarette under his shoe and receiving a mild look of displeasure from the green eyed demon sitting across from him.
"Hmmm…well, they were together for a while. That bakasaru had a time of it after everything was over. It was harder for him, with Sanzo not really remembering what had happened. Well, it was like that for all of us."
He glanced over at Hakkai and gave a mild shiver at the memory of Seiten Taisei Son Goku in his full demonic glory leaning over Sanzo' body, flesh hanging in mangled strips from his claws. Hakkai had tried to stop him and almost been killed for the effort, his human form wasn't strong enough, so they did the only thing they could, Gojyo released his limiters.
It was such a cruel way to end the journey; they'd stopped the resurrection of Gyumaoh, but at the cost of their lives.
***
As the very walls of Houtou Castle came tumbling around the four, over a thousand crazed yokkai surged forward. They were pinned against the crumbling walls, caught between pillars and debris that threatened to come crashing down on their very heads. They'd already sustained several dangerous wounds on their way through the maze-like building: Gojyo had a deep gash across his leg and could barely move, Hakkai had several, well, they might as well be called holes across his chest, received as he was trying to shield Gojyo as he fell, and Sanzo had taken a spear through the gut; as it was, the only one not half-dead was Goku, but that didn't mean he was spared either.
The sight of Sanzo's blood leaking across the stone floor caused Goku's diadem to crack, the sound of the splintering fragments jangling to the floor was unusually loud in the vaulted resurrection chamber. Those few demons left alive after the initial onslaught backed up and scattered as the full fury and power of Seiten Taisei was let loose.
Hakkai had managed to pull himself to his feet, blood splattering unevenly to the flood and called out to him, only to have the cold golden fury of his eyes turned in his direction. As the Monkey King made a rush at them Gojyo had sent out a weak defense with his Shakujo, it did nothing but give him time to drag Hakkai back down beside him behind a half-fallen pillar.
"Gojyo! Please, you mustn't move! I don't have the energy to heal you right now; we have to stop him before he loses it completely!"
Gojyo coughed harshly, the wet gurgling sound speaking louder than anything else the healer might say.
"'Kai, 'Kai," he pulled the brown-haired man down to him, close enough to press a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and whispered, "Sorry, 'Kai, can't leave things like this, it's the only way, don't be mad at me. When this is all over, we'll have that coffee house you wanted, somewhere quiet, alright? So don't die, please, just don't…"
Hakkai just watched in horror as the red-haired half-demon's head slumped lifelessly to his shoulder, the light tinkling of silver cuffs falling unheeded from his bloody hand and scattering across the floor.
His lithe frame folded in upon himself as the seizure caused his body to tremble uncontrollably. It had been a long time since Hakkai had let loose his demonic form and this was not one of those born from pleasure but of absolute despair. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, looking at the pale body wrapped around his feet, the red staining everything and suddenly he couldn't tell who he was looking at, Gojyo or Kanan. In his mind they were close, so very close, friends and lovers and family, and the pain and memories and feelings mixed and warped and twisted until they were one and the same and all he could feel was the cold anger welling up within him, sending the vines shaking in his rage.
He'd turned then. Slowly felt his human consciousness slipping and reverting to the beast that always lay just beneath the surface. As he came around the pillar he let instincts take control, leading him over broken stones and computers, around the unholy mixture of science and religion and magic and then he was there, crouching above the target that had sent Gojyo to his end…Goku.
Part of him remembered the word friend, but as he watched the golden demon lick Sanzo's blood from his claws there was a louder part that screamed for vengeance.
He was bounding down the crumbled stones before he could think, his Qi glowing in his hands, pulsing with his anger, tinged a light rose with the blood of his beloved and then there was a shattering white light and he was crouching, Sanzo's gun in his hand, cocked and loaded, pointed straight on as Goku pounded through the rock-dust mist, claws outstretched, running full tilt towards Hakkai, the bloodlust easy to read in his face.
And then there was nothing.
Gojyo's eyes faded to a dull crimson, breathing out wetly, "Hak..kai…" as both green and gold fell to the floor. An ear-splitting scream punctuating the darkness.
That was the last thing he remembered before waking up back in their room at the inn. He wasn't sure sometimes if the whole thing hadn't been a dream or not. He never did figure out who had screamed, or how they were still alive. Enough quiet talks with Hakkai over the following weeks had proven he wasn't crazy, that it all did happen, but none of them knew how or why they were still alive.
Personally, he thought that stupid monkey knew; he was too quiet in the following days, to willing to follow orders and do whatever Sanzo said without question. And he never complained about being hungry--that was the biggest tipoff in his mind.
Hakkai had told him to drop it, that there was something going on between Goku and the monk and that he shouldn't get involved, and for once he had listened. They split up shortly afterwards. Sanzo had started back for Chang'an with Goku on his heels; the pair never once looked back.
They heard a few years later that Sanzo had died and Goku had disappeared, but the monks refused to let them see the body or tell them what had happened, but Hakkai seemed to think it might have been suicide. The trip had made them all look at things they didn't want to deal with.
"What about you 'Kai? What did it make you look at?" he had asked one night.
Hakkai had pushed in closer, cushioning his head on Gojyo's shoulder and breathing deeply of the warm vanilla scent that seemed to follow the red-head wherever he went.
"Sometimes, the past obscures the present; sometimes it makes the now even clearer. When you released my demon side everything seemed to overlay each other. The past and present, I couldn't tell what was real anymore. At the end, I heard you call my name and everything snapped back into high definition for one brief second." He gently drew sharp claws across the other's chest.
"It made me see myself and what was really important to me."
Gojyo made a soft sound in the back of his throat: understanding, acceptance, love; it was all conveyed with that tiny sound that seemed to fill Hakkai with contentment.
A light banging came through the ceiling and Gojyo sighed, running his hand through his hair he had pressed a soft kiss to the demon's dark head and slipped from the bed.
"Those kids, I swear, it's after midnight, what the hell do they think 'bedtime' is anyways?" he growled lightly.
"Ah…let them have a few nights to adjust, they did just lose their families."
"Yeah, well we were both orphans, doesn't mean we were this much trouble!" he grumbled back towards the bed.
"…."
He caught the reflection of dusky vines on moonlit skin and one finely arched eyebrow in the small table mirror and sighed.
"Ok, so maybe we were worse. All right, I'll let them be, not like they won't wear out soon enough anyways."
Hakkai didn't answer. He just pulled the sheets down allowing him to ease back in and then slipped farther under their downy confines, wriggling until he got to just the right position.
"Fine, but tomorrow, you're putting them to bed; they don't listen to me at all."
"Of course, 'Dad'."
"Oh shut up, will you."
A faint giggling permeated their room as soft banging followed them into sleep.
***
"Dad?"
"Daddy? You ok?"
The twins were leaning in and looking at him, confusion and a little scared all clear as day on their faces. He smiled and tapped Mao on the nose, causing the little girl to squeal and flail at the offending fingers.
"Hey!?"
"Heh, now you sound like that bakasaru." He caught Hakkai's concerned stare and winked at him suggestively, laughing wholeheartedly at the man as he rolled his eyes and pulled the little girl closer towards him, a mini shield against his lover's perversions.
"Hey Daddy?"
"Hmm?"
"So, did Sanzo-sama and Goku ever meet again?" her big eyed stare made Hakkai's breath catch, she looked just like Goku for a moment.
"Stupid, they'll meet in heaven one day, right Dad?" Kai twisted in Gojyo's hold, nearly toppling off the sill.
All Gojyo could do was smile and look towards the pale purple sunset.
"Yeah, they'll meet in heaven. I'm sure of it."
The little family sat in silence for the rest of the evening, letting the stories and memories wash over them, clinging to each other as the sun slipped below the horizon and the stars peppered the sky.
As the last rays faded Hakkai leaned back and sighed softly, Gojyo's hand resting on his shoulder, their children in their arms, their memories left to guide them towards the future.
Fin.
Breakfast in Bed
Series: Saiyuki AU
Rating: T; Pairing: 58
AN: Tobacco Road Arc, pt. 4
Six year olds are an interesting breed of childhood innocence and adult prudishness. The first time Mao ran into the room, stared at us slack jawed, then blushed furiously and peeled back out of said room, the door quivering in its frame after her escape, we merely blinked rapidly and couldn't make eye contact with her for the rest of the week. The second time she did it we installed locks and made the pledge that nothing was going to happen before they were turned and double checked. The third time it happened, I sent Gojyo in to have a little 'talk' with our beautiful red-headed minx now, I'm terrified to admit, turned fangirl.
The first time Kai did it was the last time we did. It has now been 20,240 minutes since we were last together and quite frankly, I don't care anymore if they do see us. Forget it. Not my concern. We were going to have to have this talk anyways; granted I always figured we had another (hopefully) ten years, but whatever. So now I'm standing here in the living room watching Gojyo make the kids sandwiches and pour one chocolate and one strawberry milk drink, because Lord Forbid, Kai drink something girly like strawberry (even though it is one of my favorites), and trying to figure out how to subtly kick our children to the curb for a few hours so that Mommy can have some much needed alone time with Daddy and…when the heck did I start talking like an idiot?
Pinching the bridge of my nose I try to muffle the sound of a sigh. It's easier without having to wear the glasses or my monocle anymore, but the glass eye still bothers me. It's always a challenge to overlay the two images my powers feed directly into my brain. The image is not very different, but the lack of true depth perception is annoying, especially since the shadows that show space and relationship between objects are replaced with the energy of that object; it was all very confusing in the beginning. After the fake eye was, well, forced into my skull, God that sounds horrid, I spent the better part of two weeks locked up in the temple with Sanzo and Goku just trying to walk around without crashing into things. Playing 'tag' as Goku liked to call it, was a nightmare world of bruised shins and black eyes for almost a month.
And then I went home.
I must admit, seeing Gojyo's shocked face was completely worth asking Sanzo to keep my resurrection under wraps. Of course he's never been allowed to cut his own hair again, but that was kind of a given anyways. Looking at us then, I'd never have believed that over ten years later we would basically be married with twin, a real house with a garden and a café and all grown-up like. Oh, I better stop the laughing to myself -- Gojyo's got that confused look on his face that always means I'm starting to sound a bit crazy. Maybe I have. Not getting any in over two weeks will do that to a guy and him winking at me over Mai's little red-head is not helping.
There's a tapping at the front door as I stand to join them for lunch, though I'm not really hungry, "I'll get it."
Mrs. Peterson is one of our favorite clients. Not only does she send her oldest daughter in every morning for pastries, she watches the twins whenever we have to be away for a while. I'm noticeably excited to see her at our door.
"Mrs. Peterson, good afternoon. How are you today?"
The pleasantries are merely a requirement and I'm not really listening as she goes on and on about her son's latest achievement, something about a science faire in the next town for a week. I don't really care. She's just come to ask us to watch the house, and since I'm obviously not going to get the break I desperately want, I simply smile number 34, that's the 'oh fine, just leave me the list and go away' smile and somehow she gets the message and leaves. As I turn back to the kitchen and drop the keys on the side table I shake my head slightly at Gojyo's unasked question and smile ruefully as his face drops, expectation is running high between us and if we don't get some form of break soon we just might have to lock the kids in the backyard for a 'camp out' one night just to get some time alone.
I stop dead in my tracks. That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, but then I remember that they're only six and no matter how much I want to jump their father's bones, six is just too young to be left alone. I sigh again as I slide into my chair and pick at the bologna sandwich. I hate bologna. There's a soft rustle of cloth and then the warm weight of Gojyo's hands slip around my neck and the sandwich is picked up and replaced with another. This one is fried until crunchy and I smile, he remembered. Bologna is disgusting, but fried bologna is comfort food from back when Kanan was still around. Such a silly, simple little thing that reminds me once again why I fell in love with this man.
After lunch I send the kids upstairs to get their smocks on, Saturday is market day and they love coming with me to pick out the week's produce from the vendors, but oh my do they get so dirty! As they scamper back downstairs and I reach for the door Gojyo leans over and presses a soft, warm kiss onto the side of my mouth, stealing my breath as his touch always does and then leans down and ruffles the kid's hair. Waving from the front door as we head out and reminding us to have fun and take our time. Though I greatly enjoy my afternoons outside with the kids and the sights and sounds and feel of the market washing around us, I secretly want to run back to that house and drag Gojyo under the covers all while shutting everything and one out for at least two hours, maybe even longer.
But I have shopping to do.
It's almost dusk by the time we get back. I'm glad my hair isn't any longer or I'd probably be complaining about how it's hanging limply into my eyes and showing how tired I am. The kids are covered in mud and berry stains and I am so very glad I always insist on making them wear those bright yellow slickers when we go out. They, obligingly, drop them in a crumpled heap on the porch before tossing their boots down besides them and running through the house only to be stopped hard by Gojyo's warning voice in the hallway. I'm halfway out of my own boots when the bags are lifted from my arms and a light kiss is placed to my startled brow. Gojyo's in the doorway cradling at least two of the brown bags and smiling down at me like the cat that just ate the mouse, all Cheshire like.
I can feel my brows start to furrow, what did he burn this time? However I'm pleasantly surprised to find that he hasn't been attempting to cook dinner and instead the young girl from down the street, Jessica, I believe her name is, is now ushering the kids and their backpacks and sleeping bags back out onto the patio and collecting their boots with a warm smile for me and a nod for Gojyo and my sweet, darling, ever thoughtful, love has just given us the night off and I don't remember if I got my other shoe off before I glomped him in the doorway or not.
I don't really care anyways.
The night is spent reacquainting ourselves with each other's arms and legs and stomachs, scars and dimples, nipples and ears and toes and breath and maybe a massage in the tub for sore muscles and gentle petting strokes of the brush through ruby locks and then finally getting a full night's sleep in, because when you become old sleep is almost better than sex, especially when the kids are early risers. But just barely, because we're only kind of old people and Gojyo'd freak if I dared to tell him he was anything other than the 19 year old stud I first met way back at the beginning of our lives together.
So when the sun is already high up in the sky I smile into a gentle prodding of warm fingers slipping across my back. Relishing the feeling of those perfectly calloused fingers rubbing tight little circles over the smooth skin and partially crack a sleep heavy lid to gaze adoringly at the ever surprising man I've sworn myself to. He's smiling again and holding onto a tray full of strawberry waffles with whipped cream and strawberry milk and a small plate of bacon and somehow I can't help but match his pleased as punch expression as I pull myself up against the pillows and he slides the tray over my lap before slipping in next to me and stealing a piece of the smoky bacon before I can even take in everything.
There's a single pristine mini white calla lily standing in a small etched glass along with the food, but that's not what catches my attention. Sitting on the very edge of the tray is a neat little bundle tied up with string. At my questioning look he smiles and nods, holding the tray while I untie and look over the various, multi-colored papers. Some have stickers on them, some little stories, others are drawing or songs or hand prints and I can feel my shoulders start to shake. How could I have forgotten? It's been two years since we officially adopted the twins and spread out in front of me are all the pictures and childish scrawls they've ever drawn for us.
But my favorite is the big one on my lap. The one with two little red-heads and one big one all holding hands with messy handwriting that's only semi-legible, but the big red heart and the words, "We love you Daddy" are more than clear for me to read. And I love them even more for it.
Yes, I love them even more.
But if he takes one more piece of my bacon he's going to be wearing that whipped cream. He laughs at me and nuzzles in against my neck. Apparently we have time for that too. You know, I think maybe I could get use to the breakfast in bed thing.
I really could.
Fin.
