I'd be lying if I said Balm of Gilead by Blossomwitch (on this site) had no influence on me and this story. It was very slight, but it's there. This time, it's Hiei who was kidnapped and assaulted, and the plot is totally different, but her writing is very strong, and it had a great effect on me. Read that story, and everything else by her! She's a great writer! Sorry for the delay; I had to edit quite a bit out before I could post this due to the rating restrictions.
96 Hours
4. The Rolling of Dice
SEVENTEEN HOURS REMAINING
He was running. His feet flew over the ground, taking great bounds and leaps to get ahead; he chose his footing carefully, looking ahead and planning his steps to avoid the underbrush that would trip him if it got the chance. He flew, arms pumping, legs swinging in momentum, and willed himself not to panic. It was not too late. That scream, the call for help . . . yes, it had sounded like Hiei, and it had come in the direction that they'd left him in. But Hiei was competent, even with a broken ankle. Hiei was strong. Hiei was armed. There was nothing that could threaten him, nothing that would bother him while he laid waiting for his team to return with the suspect they'd been chasing.
Kurama looked ahead. There was darkness on all sides, the trees blocking out the sunlight. Then, up ahead, a glimmer of light shone through. Almost there, he thought, moving faster. He knew how this would end: he'd burst out of the trees, see Hiei lying against the rock where they'd left him, and feel like the total asshole he was being. "Don't think I can stay on my own for five minutes? Don't you have any faith in me?" I'm dreaming
Only this time, Hiei was not gone. Hiei was still lying there by the rocks. And this time, Hiei was dead.
Kurama snapped awake, all thoughts of the dream pushed out of his mind by the feeble, weak message that had just come through. K-ku . . . kurama? Yes I w-wish . . .
You wish what? Kurama asked, opening his eyes to the darkness around him. The clock on the nearby table let him know that it was just after midnight. The witching hour.
I wish I was . . . dying. Immediately following this came a flash of pain, something so real and harsh that Kurama cried out, feeling it stab into his spine and travel both ways through his body. A little sample of whatever Hiei was feeling at that very moment.
Gods, Kurama thought desperately. I'm so close. There are . . . n-no gods
It occurred to Kurama that Hiei was sending his physical torture as a way of cooping with it. Whatever was happening to him was too horrible for him to handle, so he was boxing it up and fed-exing it to his redheaded friend. Whatever I can bear, Kurama thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Send it all over; it will never be enough. Stop I know, Y-you know I never cared . . . for promises. My life for you. You're so weak, Don't insult me, You always had . . . a jealous streak. If I don't m-make it . . . Don't, Tell Yukina. Swear, you damn fool. I swear, Idiot,
And then he was gone. Kurama sent back messages for five minutes, trying to come into contact with Hiei, who was clearly suffering at the hands of Rika at that very moment. When he couldn't get through, Kurama screamed into his pillow. Then, making up his mind, he jumped out of bed, threw open the door, and began to run down the darkened hall. He ran as he had all those weeks ago, through the forest. He ran as he had in his dreams every night since, praying that what he saw at the end of the run wouldn't be what it always was.
He burst through the door, took the stairs down three at a time in great, leaping bounds, and nearly slammed into the wall as the path forked. He jogged down to Gail's cell door, yelling for the guards to open it before he even got to them. They did, and he did not stop to chat but instead flew through the open door, bursting in. Gail had been in the act of meditation, and the guard had been standing in the corner, making sure she didn't fall asleep. Both jumped when Kurama came into the room, and both watched him warily. "Tell me where they are," Kurama demanded, breathing heavily. He did not try to banish his anger. Instead, he let her hear the full brunt of his fury; let her know the agony she would face if she didn't answer him.
"Never Neverland," Gail smiled. The rose whip snapped. Kurama stood, panting, holding its handle in a shaking hand. He swung again, causing her chair to tip. She fell out of it and rolled away, trying to escape him. But she was imprisoned in this tiny room, as a fire demon somewhere else was imprisoned in one so like it, and she couldn't get away. Gail could only writhe as Kurama's whip flashed over her body again, and again, and again.
* * *
FOURTEEN HOURS REMAINING
Kurama slumped against the wall, leaving a handprint there. His forehead squished against the tile. It was cool, and he felt somewhat relieved to have a moment of silence. There was a dripping noise accompanying the whimpers behind him, but he ignored them both for the cold press of the wall on his forehead and hands. Blood caked his clothes; drying now, the stink made him feel lightheaded. Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the abundance of physical exercise that made me feel faint. Either way, he needed a moment of rest. He took that small moment to run a quick inventory on himself. Sore feet, check. Abdomen pleading for sustenance, check. Heart pumping hard in his ribcage, check. Arms and hands throbbing in agony, check. Throat on fire from screaming, check. Jaw aching from having been clenched all this time, check. Eyes tired from having seen far too much, check. A mind that was not quite all there—double check. He breathed in deeply through his mouth, not having the strength to face the stench that his nose picked up.
He had no way of knowing what time it was, but his body seemed to believe that it was still late at night—or, rather, early in the morning. He realized that he was starting to fade off to sleep while still standing and shook himself awake. Merely standing upright caused the muscles in his arms to buckle, making him drop the rose whip. It fell to the ground a red rose. Kurama closed his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet. The guard came over, steadying him, offering to escort him upstairs. Kurama shook his head, either unwilling or unable to speak. He walked—shakily—to Gail, who was still on the ground. She was a mess, the chair she had moved out of thrown to the side of the room. Only her demonic constitution had kept her living this long.
"Bring a medic," Kurama croaked, not surprised by the roughness of his voice. He briefly recalled (in flashes of red and bright lights and cold air and loud screams) the blur of the past few hours. He remembered screaming something over and over, as he swung his whip, sometimes so crazily that he hadn't even hit his target. He remembered screaming in agony and in desperation, but it was a while before he remembered what he'd been screaming: Where is he? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?
The guard went to the door and let the one on the other side know the message about the medic. Kurama waited quietly, watching Gail's form as he tried to stay awake. He did not try to remember the hours of interrogation. He did not want to remember. And yet, it was still coming back in incoherent flashes of pain and fear. The medic was a harried looking demon with wispy white hair and pale, wrinkled skin. He took one look in the room and claimed that his entire team would need to be woken and brought down at once. Kurama, though he wished to keep this secret, did not protest. If he didn't act quickly, they would lose Gail, and it would have been for nothing. Worse, Kurama thought as the medic went to his victim, Hiei would be lost forever. Grimacing, Kurama stepped closer to the crouching medic. "What can you do for her?"
The medic looked back up and a stab of fear crossed his eyes. Looking away from Kurama, he said, "I should be able to save her. She'll need close watching for several days, but the damage isn't irreparable." Looking down at his kit, the doctor mumbled, "You'll need to be looked at, as well."
Not long after, a team of younger, fearful medics arrived. They put Gail on a gurney, face down, and were preparing to wheel her out when Kurama reached out for the shoulder of a passing medic. The boy shied away and then faced him, looking apologetic. "Sir?"
"She's a Spirit World prisoner and fugitive," Kurama said. "She must be restrained and watched at all times."
The medic silently pointed to the cuffs that linked Gail's shackles with the legs of the gurney, then turned and continued wheeling it out of the room. Kurama watched, apathetic. A younger female medic approached him, holding a small bottle. "Here," she said, handing it to him. He took it, swirling the contents around in the clear container.
"What is this?"
"It's a tonic to help you sleep," she soothed, pulling him over to the remaining chair. "You'll wake up in about six hours, feeling much better."
"That's unacceptable," Kurama said immediately, holding the concoction away from him so that she couldn't try to force it down his throat. "My time is precious. Have me woken up in three hours, and no more." The medic looked at him sternly for a moment, but his gaze broke her down. Frowning, she promised that someone would wake him up in three hours, though he wouldn't reap all the benefits of the tonic. Kurama sighed, held up the glass, and drained it. Instantly, he felt his mind cloud over, and warm sleep embraced him.
* * *
ELEVEN HOURS REMAINING
When he was shaken awake, it took several minutes for Kurama to remember where he was, partially because he wasn't sure where he was. The room looked familiar, but it took him a bit to realize that he was in one of the jail cells in Spirit World. It was probably not Gail's, as it was clean, but he felt a pang of fear all the same. What the hell had happened? Had Koenma had him locked up for being too rough with Gail? Sitting up, then instantly regretting it, Kurama saw the ogre standing over him and looked around the room. His head was throbbing, but through the pain, he saw a normal prison cell. He was laying on a comfortable gurney, and it wasn't until he saw that the cell door was propped open that he allowed himself to lie back down. "Why am I here?" he asked, lips cracked.
The ogre frowned a bit. "The medics thought you'd rather stay near the prisoner than go back up to your room." Kurama nodded, looking up at the ceiling. The smell of blood was gone, and he realized that he'd been cleaned and re-dressed in a white outfit, presumably one reserved for Spirit World patients. He felt better than he previously had, though his head hurt and there was still a small twinge of pain in his right bicep. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the gurney, and prepared to stand. It wasn't as hard as he'd imagined, though he did feel woozy enough to sit back down.
"Where is the prisoner?" he asked, suddenly sure that Gail had escaped or died while he'd been sleeping.
The ogre stared at him, looking slightly alarmed. "She's next door, bandaged. The medics did a good job on her."
Kurama nodded, standing up again. It was easier the second time. "The time?"
"Six in the morning," the ogre responded numbly. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Kurama said brusquely, heading for the door. He exited, looked around, and noticed the guard standing by the door that Gail had been behind previously. He went inside, taking a good look around the room. It had been cleaned, and Gail's chair had been replaced with a metal one. She was shackled wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, but still free to move from the chair if she chose. She was naked, as he had ordered, but most of her was covered in gauze and bandages. She looked at him flatly as he entered and sat down across from her.
"Are you ready to reveal the location of Rika's hideout to me?" he asked, voice weak from overuse.
Gail stared at him for so long that he was sure she'd never answer. Finally, she said, "Never." Her voice was even weaker than his was, but she spoke with conviction. Kurama sighed, and then stood up.
"You know what they say about absolutes. Our time grows short, and that can only mean more things that are unpleasant for you. You must realize that you'll tell me eventually. Why not make it easier?"
"I'll never say it," she said. "And you'll never see your friend again."
Kurama looked at her, examining her face for several minutes. Finally, he told the guard that he wanted one gallon of clean water brought in. In silence, they waited for the guard to collect it. When he returned, he had brought the water, along with a cup to drink it out of. Kurama poured some for Gail, and though she should have known better, she was too thirsty to suspect a trap. This time, anyway, she was lucky. She drank half the gallon before throwing up, drinking the rest, and passing out. Kurama left her, knowing that Koenma would be waiting to speak with him.