Disclaimer: Ranma ½ is property of Rumiko Takahashi and blah blah blah yackety-shmackety. In other words, the characters aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them.
Chapter 8
~ Alleviation ~
I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies
That you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand
I would understand
The angry boy, a bit too insane
Icing over a secret pain
You know you don't belong
You're the first to fight
You're way too loud
You're the flash of light on a burial shroud
I know something's wrong
Well, everyone I know has got a reason
To say 'put the past away'…
~Third Eye Blind, "Jumper"
"Ranma?" a calm voice spoke from behind him. He whirled around, his eyes wide, afraid to hope. The nurse smiled at him.
"Your friend is going to be alright," she said.
Ranma let out the gasp of air he'd been holding in and closed his eyes, repressing a sob of relief. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to gain control and keep himself from collapsing on the spot. A long moment passed before he opened his eyes again. "Can I see him?" he asked. His voice was unsteady and dry, like a branch in a brisk wind.
"Of course." She motioned for him to follow her, leading him through the double doors and down the hall until they came to an elevator. "He's been moved up to a private room on the third floor," she explained. Ranma felt a familiar tug at his insides as the elevator started to move.
"He's very lucky, you know," the nurse remarked quietly. "If you hadn't found him when you did, he may not have been so fortunate."
Ranma didn't reply. The elevator shuddered to a stop.
The nurse stepped out into the and led him down a corridor branching off to the right. The wing was lined with doors, each with a number overtop of it. The nurse stopped at number 332.
"He's probably still asleep now, but he should wake up soon," she told him as she opened the door. Ranma entered carefully. He could feel his feet touching the floor, but it seemed like he was somehow detached—he felt strangely light, and the ground seemed too hard beneath his feet. He wondered if the sensation was from the elevator or something else as he went through the door.
The room was small and entirely white. A wide window was on the wall across from the door, its surface made mirror-like by the black of night outside. Ranma walked slowly to the bed in the center of the room, where Ryoga was lying. His face was pale, contrasting sharply with his dark hair, and his eyes were closed. His arms rested atop a light blue blanket covering him. Ranma noticed the thin cotton top of the hospital uniform Ryoga was wearing was almost identical in color to the blanket, a detail which, for some reason, bothered him a great deal. Ryoga's wrists were wrapped in thick white bandages, and Ranma could see band-aid on his arm, likely where they'd used an I.V. to give him a transfusion. He also saw, almost thankfully, that they had left Ryoga's yellow-and-black-spotted bandana on.
Ranma exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Ryoga's chest was rising and falling slightly as he breathed, and though he still looked pale he wasn't nearly as white as he'd been when Ranma last saw him. He's alright…he's really alright, Ranma tried to assure himself. The blue-eyed martial artist sank into the chair beside the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from the unconscious boy even when the nurse spoke to him.
"I'll leave you two alone," she said. "Just press the button if you need anything." She motioned to a small white box with a red circular button in its center sitting on the low table at the other side of the bed.
"Thank you," Ranma said, somewhat distractedly. The nurse left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Ranma moved his eyes from Ryoga's face down to the other boy's wrists. He reached out tentatively to touch one of the white bandages wrapped around them. It was soft but textured beneath his fingertips. He pulled his hand back slowly and dropped it in his lap. Finally, he removed his gaze from Ryoga and glanced around the room.
There wasn't much to see. A door in the wall adjacent to the window—a bathroom, probably—a small television set hanging from the ceiling in the corner, a blue phone on the table next to the white box and a small digital clock. A little vase holding a few purple flowers stood between the phone and a black remote control. Along with the bed and the chair, that was all the room contained.
How cheery, Ranma thought wryly. Then he saw Ryoga stir, and turned to him expectantly.
Ryoga opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the harsh white light. His vision adjusted quickly, and he realized he was looking at a ceiling.
If there was a ceiling, Ryoga figured, then he was in a room. He flicked his eyes down, and saw he was lying in a bed, covered by a blue blanket. He was indeed in a room, in a bed, with bandages on his wrists, and the faint scent of antiseptic surrounding him. He'd been in this type of place enough times before to recognize it easily.
A hospital.
Which meant he was alive.
Oh, fuck.
Ryoga turned his head to the right, realizing there was someone near him. Indeed there was, a young man with black hair bound back in a pigtail, wearing a red silk shirt and gazing at him with intense blue eyes.
Ranma.
Ryoga wondered if he should laugh at the bitter irony of it. He'd failed again. And naturally, the cause of his failure was none other than the one beside him. Christ, I can't even kill myself right. Not with him around.
"You're awake," Ranma stated quietly. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, staring fixedly at the wall. His sense of relief was quickly hardening into anger, both at himself and the Lost Boy.
Ryoga sat up slowly and folded the blanket back. He swung his legs down and placed his feet on the floor, then raised a hand to his head, feeling a bit dizzy. "Yes," he affirmed as the moment of vertigo passed. He let his hand drop to his side, feeling the bitterness starting to well in him, a harbinger of the despair he knew would soon ensue.
"How do you feel?" Ranma asked, his voice tight. He still didn't look at him.
Ryoga glanced up at the other boy. "Alive," he muttered.
"Good." Ranma swallowed hard, his teeth clenched. "Tell me something then, Ryoga," he said. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Ryoga stared straight ahead at the closed door to the hall. "I don't remember," he said flatly, "but right now I'm thinking I should've slit my throat, too."
Ranma felt something inside him snap. He whirled around, his eyes bright with sudden fury as he raised his hand and then brought it down sharply, delivering a stinging slap across Ryoga's face.
Ryoga's head flew to the right, pain flaring through him. He lifted a hand to his burning cheek, startled.
"What the hell has gotten into you?" Ranma shouted at him, his face a mask of anger. "Why did you do this? Why?"
Ryoga didn't look up. "How could you understand?" he choked, his voice trembling. "You don't know what it's like to have nothing..." His throat tightened too much to go on.
Not in front of him, he thought desperately. Don't do this in front of him... But he couldn't stop himself. All of the bitterness and grief and pain came flooding through him in a torrent of insufferable agony, forcing hot tears to his eyes. Ryoga covered his face with his hands and started to cry.
Ranma stared for a moment before feeling his fury evaporate, replaced by concern. He'd seen Ryoga cry a couple of times, sort of…but never had he heard someone cry like this before, soft, quiet sobs that were agonized and full of despair. He stood completely still, watching as Ryoga's entire body trembled.
Ranma sat next to him on the bed, trying to think of something to say, but no words came to mind. So he did the only other thing he could think of to do—he slipped his arms around Ryoga's shoulders and pulled him close.
Ryoga stiffened when he first felt Ranma's arms around him; he'd been expecting more harsh words or mocking laughter, not this. But it hurt…it hurt too much… Finally, Ryoga relaxed against him and began to cry harder, sobbing against Ranma's chest.
Ranma felt tears sting his own eyes. He hadn't meant to make Ryoga cry; he wasn't angry with him, he really wasn't, Ranma realized. Ryoga had no way of knowing that the last couple hours had been some of the most hellish ones Ranma had ever experienced, and he berated himself silently for being so insensitive simply because he himself was upset. What had happened, what had almost happened…it was too much to try to come to terms with yet…and Ryoga's obvious pain, unparallel to anything he'd ever known before. He could sense it in the other boy's disjointed aura, the feelings almost tangible; hurt and loss and pain and fear and hopelessness and pain, pain, pain… Ranma couldn't help but feel guilty, this had been his fault...he still couldn't think of anything to say to soothe him, to help ease this terrible anguish, so he just held Ryoga tighter against him and let him cry, only now understanding that it was probably what he should've done from start. If only anger didn't always have to come first…maybe none of this ever would've happened…
Ryoga cried for a long time, his entire body wracked by his sobs as everything came rushing out, the pain searing within him like a desperate fire. Nothing…he had nothing…the knowledge tore at his soul, crushing the scattered shards of his heart into dust. Nothing, save for a single person who had yanked him back from a certain and desired end, who was now the only barrier between himself and a terrifying empty loneliness. Only this, an uncertainty, something that his mind told him he should hate, yet all he could was cling as he cried and cried, wishing for it all to stop. It was all he'd wanted, just for it to stop...
Several minutes later, the sobs began to diminish, and he finally quieted. Turning his head, he leaned against Ranma's shoulder for a moment, exhausted by the emotional and physical strain, then started to push himself away. Ranma held him for a second longer, then let go.
Ryoga withdrew quickly, turning away and hurriedly brushing the last of the tears from his face as he looked at the floor, letting his thick black hair hang down to hide his eyes.
Ranma moved back into the chair. The silence between them grew tense as the seconds passed. He noticed the red mark left by his hand on Ryoga's face. "Are you alright?" Ranma asked him. "I shouldn't have hit you like that...but God, Ryoga, you scared the hell out of me."
Ryoga shrugged, letting out a mirthless parody of a laugh. "Not like I didn't deserve it," he said, still refusing to meet Ranma's eyes. "I guess this means you got the note," he continued, unable to keep some bitterness from his voice. He pushed himself back further on the bed and drew his knees up to his chest.
Ranma nodded. "Kasumi did when she went to put the mail out. I was on my way after you anyway, though."
Ryoga shook his head. Just his luck. He hadn't counted on anyone finding it until morning, when his broken heart would have long ceased beating in his chest. Not that it mattered, if Ranma had been coming to find him anyway. Ryoga berated himself silently. He should've counted on that. Didn't the hero always try to save those around him, even his enemies?
"Did Akane see it?" he asked.
Ranma stayed silent for a moment. There was no way to tell him otherwise. "Yes," he sighed.
"Great," Ryoga said bitterly. "She'll hate me now."
Ranma sighed again. "I don't think so," he said. "I mean, she's pissed, and she'll probably stay that way for awhile, but she'll come around. She'll understand."
Yeah, right, Ryoga thought darkly, lifting his head to glance around the room. He swallowed as a frightening though crossed his mind. "They're going to make me spend the night here, aren't they," he said, his voice suddenly small and nervous.
"More like the week," Ranma replied, hating to upset him further but unwilling to lie. Ryoga shuddered and hugged his knees against him, repressing a sob.
Ranma glanced at him, worry evident in his dark blue eyes. "I'll stay with you tonight, if you want," he offered quietly.
Ryoga lifted his head, surprised and almost hopeful for a brief instant. Then his eyes dimmed, and he turned away again. "You don't have to," he said dejectedly.
Ranma could tell he was upset at the idea of being stuck here, amidst a maze of cold white walls and strangers. He knew how hard it probably was for the Lost Boy to accept help, especially considering the situation...but Ryoga obviously needed it. Ranma could see he was trembling a little, and fighting back more tears. "I know I don't have to," Ranma said gently. "But do you want me to?"
Ryoga was silent for a moment as he debated with himself. He didn't want to ask for help, he was already feeling ashamed for crying like he did; hell, ashamed for being alive even. But he hated hospitals, and he hadn't exactly planned on ending up in one—at least not this particular section, anyway. But he was also afraid, the first shiverings of real fear starting to climb up his spine at the notion of being alone, surrounded by strange doctors and nurses who didn't even know him as his only company.
Ryoga bit his lower lip. "O-Ok," he managed to say, not without some struggle. He squeezed his eyes shut, still unable to look at the other young man.
Ranma stood. "I'll go tell the doctors. And I should call home. Then I'll be right back, alright?"
Ryoga nodded mutely, so Ranma stepped out into the hall. He found a doctor standing a few feet from the door, clipboard in hand, obviously preparing to enter. The man looked to be about forty, with glasses and thinning brown hair. "I was just about to ask your friend some questions," he said in a pleasant tone, as though he was commenting on how nice the weather had been lately. It made Ranma clench his teeth—what had happened with Ryoga wasn't something to be taken lightly—but he fought back his agitation, knowing it would only cause problems if he didn't.
"I want to stay with him, for the night," the pigtailed boy said.
The doctor frowned slightly. "You're not immediate family-" he started to say, but Ranma cut him off. He'd been expecting this.
"I know. But he don't have any family around here. You're gonna to need someone to stay with him, aren't you?"
"Well, yes," the doctor agreed reluctantly. "Any suicide patient needs someone to watch them, at least for the first twelve hours-"
"Alright," Ranma said calmly. "In that case, you should know he's a martial artist, and a real strong one at that. He's also really upset, and having a stranger in there'll just make him worse. Besides, if he decides to try anything, which I doubt he will, anyone you put in there won't be able to stop him."
The doctor raised an eyebrow, looking at Ranma appraisingly. "And you will?" he asked, a bit doubtfully.
"Yup. I'm a martial artist, too. And he's never beaten me," Ranma added. It wasn't the complete truth exactly, but so long as it got the job done, Ranma didn't care.
The doctor tugged at the sleeve of his green uniform, repressing a smile. Ranma took it as a good sign, and even if it wasn't, there was no chance he'd give up easily. "In that case, you should probably call your family and let them know where you are," the doctor relented. "I think Dr. Tofu may have notified them, but you should call anyway. There's a phone over there you can use." He motioned across the hall.
"Thanks!" Ranma exclaimed, bouncing over to the phone. The doctor blinked at the careless agility and speed of the young man's movements, then walked into the room, shaking his head with mild amusement.
Ryoga glanced up when he heard someone enter. He eyed the doctor nervously as the man approached him and sat in the chair.
"Ryoga, right?" the man asked, glancing at the clipboard. Ryoga nodded, his black hair shining in the brightness of the ceiling lights. "I'm Dr. Kirasawa," he continued. "You'll be under my care while you're here. Can I have your last name?"
"H-Hibiki," Ryoga answered tentatively, dreading the next questions.
The doctor scribbled on the clipboard. "Alright. Now, where are your parents?"
Ryoga swallowed. "They're dead."
The doctor raised an eyebrow and regarded at him sympathetically. "Who takes care of you, then?" he asked.
Ryoga stared at the ground, an uneasy anxiety rising in him. "No one."
Dr. Kirasawa blinked. "Could you explain, perhaps?"
Ryoga shut his eyes. "My father used to. But I…I ran away from home…about three years ago." He took a shaky breath. "And he…my father…he d-died last week," he finished.
"I'm sorry to hear that," the doctor said. He seemed sincere, but Ryoga could sense an underlying note of plasticity to the statement. "How did you find out?"
"I called home…the housekeeper told me," he replied.
"Do you have any aunts or uncles?"
Ryoga shook his head.
"Grandparents?"
Ryoga shook his head again, and the doctor sighed, obviously perturbed over what was becoming an increasingly difficult situation.
"Alright. Let me have the telephone number. Perhaps your housekeeper can tell us who to call."
Ryoga gave it to him tonelessly. He was in serious trouble, he knew—very serious trouble. The doctor continued to ask him questions, and Ryoga answered as best as he could, a sinking feeling in his chest.
Outside, Ranma picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Tendo house. It rang twice before Kasumi answered, her voice warm as always.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Kasumi, it's Ranma."
"Oh, Ranma!" she exclaimed. "We've been so worried! Where are you? Is everything alright?"
Oh, yeah, just peachy, Ranma thought wryly. "I'm fine, Kasumi. I'm…at the hospital."
"The hospital?" she cried, her voice full of concern. Ranma envisioned the entire family rushing around her at this point, with Soun gearing up for a good cry. He groaned inwardly.
"Yeah, but I'm Ok," he said quickly. "I'm here with Ryoga. He, uh...had an accident."
"Oh, my," Kasumi said. "How awful. Is Ryoga alright?"
Ranma imagined the unison facefault that was undoubtedly occurring. "Uh, y-yeah," he answered, twining his fingers in the spirally cord. "But I need to stay here with him for the night. Can I talk to my dad?"
"Of course. Mr. Saotome, Ranma is asking for you." He heard the phone exchange hands.
"Garowgh, rowr."
Ah, jeez, Ranma thought, exasperated. "Yeah, Pop, it's me. Look Ryoga's gotta stay here for the night, so I'm gonna stay with him, Ok?"
"Growgh," his father affirmed. "Growergh?"
"Tomorrow morning," Ranma replied, guessing what his father had inquired. He listened as the panda elicited some other sounds. "Yeah, Ok. I'll see ya tomorrow."
"Argh," his father replied.
"Let me talk to him!" Ranma heard Akane shout in the background.
Crap, he thought as he heard the phone exchange hands again. He could also hear Soun wailing joyously in the background. "My baby girl is finally acting like a true fiancée!"
"Dad! Give it a rest!" Akane yelled. She turned her attention to the phone. "Ranma, what's going on? What did you do to him?" she demanded.
"Huh?" Ranma said, puzzled. It took him a moment to realize what she meant. "Aw, c'mon Akane, I didn't do nothin' to him. And he's gonna be Ok." I hope, he added silently.
"Why didn't you tell me he was P—P-..." she stammered, building up for a full-blown, Akane-Tendo-patented temper tantrum. Ranma anticipated this and started to explain, but then he noticed the nurse from earlier coming down the hall with a young orderly. They were carrying something that seems to have cords attached...and they were headed towards the room.
Uh-oh, Ranma thought, not liking the sight. He should've realized what was going to happen before. "Akane, I gotta go," he told her. "I told Ryoga I'd be right back, and that was a long time ago."
"But-" she began to sputter.
"Listen, I'll talk to you first thing when I get back. I can explain everything. It's not what you think. But I gotta go. I'll talk to you first, Ok? I promise." He hung up the phone and practically leapt back across the hall.
The doctor had gone, but the nurse and orderly were standing by the bed. Ryoga was lying back on it, covered by the blanket again and looking more than a little upset.
"It's alright, hon," the nurse was telling him reassuringly. "We'll take them off if you need anything."
Ryoga didn't reply, but simply stared ahead at nothing. Ranma walked over to the bed cautiously, as though afraid something might be set off—which, considering Ryoga's present state, was a distinct possibility. The nurse glanced up at the pigtailed boy's approach and smiled.
"Oh, your friend's back," she said pleasantly. "Why don't you two talk for awhile."
Ranma glanced at her, wondering how she could act so cheerful knowing that she'd just tied someone to a bed. He sank into the chair and turned to Ryoga, his expression troubled.
"I'll bring you a blanket later," the nurse told him as she headed for the door, the orderly close behind. Ranma barely acknowledged her, as he was far too preoccupied with the more pressing issue at hand.
The Lost Boy turned away, trying to hide as much of his face as was possible while a single tear slipped down each cheek. He could feel Ranma's worried gaze, but was too ashamed to look at him. Tied to the bed like a lunatic, he thought bitterly as he waited for the tears to melt away into less obvious, drying trails. He lifted his right hand in front of him, his fingers curled slightly as he examined the soft wide band encircling his arm, then tensed for an experimental tug.
Ranma saw his hand clench. "Ryoga, don't," he said sharply, reaching out and catching his wrist before he could give it a good yank. "It'll just hurt," he said to him in a calmer tone. He gently forced Ryoga's arm down to the bed and held it there.
Ryoga squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't stay like this, Ranma," he said tightly.
"You'll be fine," Ranma said reassuringly, trying not to show how unnerved he was by the situation. Even now, his heartbeat had still not slowed to its usual pace, but he had to stay composed; he had to stay in control if he was going to be any help. "Just relax. It's alright."
"No, it's not," Ryoga said. There was a hitch in his voice, and Ranma realized he was struggling not to cry.
The pigtailed boy sighed. "Ryoga," he began, "you're gonna be fine. Don't worry about it. You'd be lying down anyway, right? And I won't let anything happen to you. Just don't think about it."
Ryoga finally turned to him, his face streaked with fresh tears. "How can I not?"
There was the million-yen question. Ranma tried to think. "I dunno. Talk to me or something."
"About what?"
"Anything."
Ryoga stared up at the blank expanse of the ceiling. "I guess you want an explanation."
"I'd appreciate it."
"It's a long story."
Ranma grinned wryly. "I've got all night."
Ryoga sighed heavily. "In that case, I might as well start at the beginning..."
