Disclaimer: So, like I was saying…the camels are eeevil. Turn your back for just a second, and they'll be trying to take over the world so they can convert it into alfalfa farms and Denny's restaurants. At the very least, they might try to eat your hat or spit on you. Mark my words…never trust a camel. And by the way, I don't own the characters, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Chapter 20

~ Aftermath ~

If I fall along the way

Pick me up and dust me off

If I get too tired to make it

Be my breath so I can walk

If I need some other love

Then give me more than I can stand

If my smile gets old and faded

Wait around, I'll smile again

Shouldn't be so complicated

Just hold me and then

Just hold me again

Can't you help me, I'm bent

I'm so scared that I'll never

Get put back together…

~Matchbox 20, "Bent"

Do you bury me when I'm gone?

Do you teach me while I'm here?

Just as soon as I belong

Then it's time I disappear…

~Metallica, "I Disappear"

Ranma took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm, fresh air of the summer night as he reclined against the tiles of the dojo roof. It was a peaceful evening, something that had long been considered a rarity in Nerima, and Ranma was glad for the serenity, no matter how short-lived it might be.

He sat up momentarily to glance around, scanning the surrounding rooftops and streets. Though things had been generally calmer than usual of late, Ranma still found himself frequently checking his surroundings to make sure he wasn't about to be on the receiving end of some attack. One could never be too cautious…or so he told himself, at least.

Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Ranma let himself flop back down on the gentle slope of the roof, a mild scowl settling itself over his features.

"Aah, who am I kidding. Stupid idiot prob'ly won't be back 'til next month. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if he was in Hokkaido or somethin' right now."

"Oh, honestly Ranma," came a chiding voice from behind him, causing the pigtailed boy to nearly leap out of skin.

"Akane! Geez, what the heck're you tryin' to do? Gimme a heart attack?"

"Hmph," the named girl muttered, sitting down beside him and pushing a bit of blue-black hair away from her face. "It's not my fault you didn't hear me. Maybe if you weren't so busy sulking-"

"I was not sulking!" Ranma said indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of denial.

"Oh, please. You're just afraid to admit that you miss someone."

Ranma scowled at his offending fiancée. "I don't miss him at all. Why should I? I count myself lucky to have one less violent, directionless jerk chasin' me around."

Akane rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself, Ranma. You know you miss him just as well as I do."

"Do not!"

Akane gave him a withering look. "Oh, then I suppose you've been coming up here on the roof every night since he left and sitting here watching the street for hours because it's more comfortable than your bed? Is that what you expect me to believe?"

"Yeah! I mean no! I mean…arghhh!" Ranma growled in frustration.

Akane gave him a satisfied smile. "It's not a crime to miss someone, you dummy."

Ranma grumbled some inaudible reply and proceeded to pout in annoyance, which only caused Akane to laugh at him.

"Oh, come on, Ranma. All of us miss Ryoga. It's not like you're the only one."

"Ah, shaddup."

Akane shoved herself back to her feet, looking exasperated. "Fine. Sit up here and pout, for all I care," she said.

"Uncute tomboy," Ranma muttered under his breath, scowling after her. Then he blinked, washing the sullen expression away.

"You should stop worrying, though. He'll come back, just like he said," Akane told him over her shoulder.

"Huh," Ranma replied, waiting for her to go back inside. Then he sighed again, thinking back to the weeks before, and what had gone on.

They'd taken him back to the hospital, in the end, but Dr. Tofu had come with them. Most of the cuts Ryoga had given himself were just nasty scratches; only a few had needed stitches, and he'd only lost around two pints of blood—just enough to make him pass out and need some saline solution. Ranma had gone in to see him as soon as he'd woken up, but he hadn't gotten to talk to Ryoga much before they'd given the Lost Boy a sedative. The short time he'd had consisted mostly of sitting with him and trying to alleviate the immediate fear that had set in with Ryoga's realization that he was at the start of what would likely be another stay in the hospital. It wasn't until the following day, the first day after the incident on the wall, that Ranma had been able to have a real conversation with him.

"You didn't tell me the half of it, did you?" Ranma had asked. He'd been staring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"The half of what?"

Ranma turned to look at the boy sitting on the bed behind him. "Anything. Everything. Whatever it is goin' on inside that head of yours. An' don't say I didn't ask, 'cause I did. A bunch of times."

Ryoga gazed back at him for a moment, then looked away to stare at the blank white wall. "Did it ever occur to you…" he started to say, but something made him trail off uncertainly.

Ranma watched him expectantly. "Did what occur to me?" he asked. Ryoga didn't answer, but only continued to stare at the wall. Ranma frowned slightly at his silence. "Ryoga?"

"Maybe there's nothing else to tell," Ryoga said finally.

"Like hell there isn't," Ranma said forcefully, his features contorting into a scowl. "I've heard that one before, and I ain't fallin' for it again." Ryoga flinched slightly at the words, and the sight loosed a wave of guilt in Ranma. Sighing inwardly, the pigtailed boy sat beside him on the bed.

"Look, Ryoga," Ranma said, carefully erasing any of the prior edge his voice. "I know you ain't too keen on talking about this stuff. Believe me, I know it's easier to just shove it down underneath and pretend it ain't there. I guess that works sometimes, and maybe it's Ok so long as it ain't gonna hurt you later."

"It's not hurting me," Ryoga argued tightly. An instant later, Ranma yanked him around to face him, gripping the Lost Boy's shoulders.

"Three times," Ranma said, his voice low and restrained. "Three goddamn times, Ryoga, you tried to kill yourself. Three times, and not even in as many months. And then you sit here and tell me that it's not hurting you?" He ignored the protestations of his conscience as tears threatened Ryoga's dark eyes. "What the hell else needs to happen before you figure it out? You damn near bled to death once, then you were planning on doing God-knows-what with that knife a few days later, and then you wanted to take a hundred-foot dive into Tokyo Bay! And you still think that everything's fine?"

Ryoga pushed Ranma's hands off and stood, taking a few steps away from the bed. "No, I…I don't know…"

"What's making you wanna do this?" Ranma asked.

"It feels like the only thing left to do," Ryoga snapped. "What else is there, for someone like me?" He glared at the pigtailed boy, his dark eyes bright. "It's the only thing I can think of sometimes…"

Here we go again, Ranma thought, rather wearily. "What about Ukyo? She just said that she lo-"

"She says so now," Ryoga interrupted. "What about later? When she thinks about it for awhile? Do you think she'll feel the same way when it hits her that we were standing on top of the seawall when she said that, and realizes what she's getting herself into? What then?"

"Ryoga…" Ranma sighed. "Do you think we'd have come looking for you if we didn't care? Do you think I'd be here now?"

"I don't know," Ryoga had answered, his voice shaking. "I don't know anything. I can't even figure out why everything started going wrong…and then I got this idea in my head, and I couldn't get it out, no matter what I did."

Ranma eyed him carefully. "You mean when your dad…?"

Ryoga shook his head slowly. "No," he replied. "It was…some time after Cologne taught me the Breaking Point. It was…it's the perfect cure…"

Ranma closed his eyes, dismayed. That's how long…you've been thinking about doing this for that long? he thought as regret and distress welled in him. Maybe, if he hadn't acted the way he did…maybe if he'd stopped to think for a moment, he would have realized that there was something deeply and terribly wrong. But he hadn't. He'd simply thrown it back in Ryoga's face, allowing more and more people to get involved, letting transgression after transgression pile up and refusing to take responsibility for any of the damage they had caused. He'd simply told himself that so long as Ryoga was lashing out at him, it was enough; he wasn't really doing anything wrong, he couldn't be doing anything wrong if it was going both ways… Only when Ryoga had given up trying to salvage the broken pieces of his self into some semblance of a normal life had Ranma finally realized. Realized how he'd done exactly the opposite of what he should've done. Remembered that Ryoga was different inside, more fragile, more easily hurt, slower to heal. And he hadn't helped, he'd just shoved him along like everyone else, pushed and pushed until Ryoga was walking on the edge, a place where it would only be a matter of time until he fell.

Ranma tugged at the end of his pigtail, trying to concentrate on the matter more directly at hand. "So…if it started back then, why didn't you ever…y'know…say somethin'?"

"To who?" Ryoga asked pointedly.

"You could've told me," Ranma replied, getting to his feet.

"You?" Ryoga said sardonically. "How could you expect me to tell you anything? You…half the time I don't even know if it's really you that I'm talking to or if you're just trying to… How can I tell you anything when you're…when you were…"

Ranma winced at the words, feeling something inside him twist painfully. He moved forward, hoping to stop the complete meltdown he sensed coming, but Ryoga backed away from him.

"Ryoga…you could've told me-"

"How was I supposed to do that? Was I supposed to just walk up and say, 'Guess what, that time Akane said she felt sorry for anyone who had to date me, I ended up at a cliff and thought about throwing myself over the side'? And you expected me to admit how every time you pretended to be some long-lost fiancée or something I'd go into the woods and hold a knife to my arm?" Ryoga continued, his voice growing wild. "You wanted me to tell you that the last time I was in Nagoya someone on the street offered t-to sell me a gun and I almost took it, b-because I…I thought m-maybe i-it would be easier than t-trying to…" He slid to the floor.

Sure, you shoulda told me, Ranma thought darkly. Maybe I woulda woken the hell up. He knelt in front of Ryoga as the bandana'd boy hid his face in his arms. Ranma could feel the other's aura, and was troubled to find it flaring with hurt and self-hatred that mixed with the icy wisps of despair lacing through. Perfect fuel for one hell of a Shi-shi Hokodan, had Ryoga decided to center himself.

"Ryoga," Ranma said as the other boy's voice dissolved into sobs. "Calm down. It's alright." He could practically feel the Lost Boy's already-wavering resolve unravel. Despite the previous outbursts Ranma had seen the last time Ryoga was in the hospital, seeing his friend fall apart right before his eyes was still frightening.

"It's not alright! I don't even know why you're here; you should hate me!"

"What?" Ranma said, unable to believe what he'd just heard.

"You should hate me for trying to attack you all those times and everything! Akane should hate me for my curse and for what I did! What about the time with Mousse, what about the Breaking Point?" Ryoga prattled. "What about the…about the… Why don't you hate me, you're supposed to! You're supposed to hate me!"

"Don't say that," Ranma said forcefully, grabbing him by the shoulders. "It's not like that at all. How am I supposed to hate you when you helped me after the Old Freak's pressure point, and when you stopped that guy in Nekonron from cuttin' me in two?" he'd asked. "An' Akane already said she don't hate you. She shouldn't anyway, not after all the times you defended her and everything."

"Noo!" Ryoga wailed. "You should! You should've let me die! I should've died!"

"No, damn it!" Ranma snapped. He gave the other boy a rough shake. "Don't even think that! You are not supposed to die! It ain't a damn option!"

That only succeeded in making Ryoga cry harder. Ranma gritted his teeth as he moved to sit beside him, leaning back against the wall and sliding one arm around the other boy's shoulders. He had a feeling he knew what was happening—guilt was one of the main things that had been driving Ryoga to extremes all along, guilt because he felt he didn't deserve to live. After seeing everyone's adverse reaction to his suicide attempts, he felt guilty for wanting to die. Now he was torn between the two, and was looking for a way to cancel one out so he could give in to the other…

"Ryoga, calm down," Ranma commanded. "Why do you keep doin' this to yourself?"

"You should hate me…"

"No," Ranma said. "The fights, Akane—they were mistakes. That's all. So what if you messed up, so did I, and so did she. So did everyone else. It's called being human. It ain't like you caused the end of the world or nothin', you just made mistakes. And killing yourself isn't the way to fix them."

"I d-didn't m-mean to…"

"I know," Ranma said consolingly. "I know you couldn't help it. No one's mad at you or nothin'."

"No…I can't…c-can't…" Ryoga cried. He tried to curl in on himself, but Ranma pulled him upright.

"It's alright," Ranma insisted.

"Everything I've ever done has been wrong," Ryoga said. "How…how could I have been so stupid?"

"Not stupid," Ranma murmured.

"I hate myself for it…"

"No one else does."

"Why…why did this happen to me? Why did I let it happen?" Ryoga asked miserably.

"I don't know why it happened," Ranma said honestly. He could still feel the hurt and pain radiating from the other boy, but it had lessened somewhat. Ranma hated seeing him upset like this, but if it made him feel better, Ryoga could cry and scream all he wanted. "I don't know why. But we're gonna fix what we can."

"How?"

"However we can," Ranma told him. "We'll figure something out. Just…you gotta trust me a little bit, alright?"

Ryoga had quieted down; he was sick of crying all the time. But he didn't answer.

Ranma had wished Ryoga would reply, but he knew that silence from the Lost Boy was better than an outright refusal.

It would have to do…

Ranma leaned back against the tiles of the roof of again, gazing up at the stars. Dr. Tofu had warned him about Ryoga's temperament before he'd gone in to see him that first time. Survivor's guilt, Dr. Tofu had said. Something similar to that. Ryoga was doubting himself, feeling that he deserved to die, thinking maybe he should've gone through with it. Disturbing as the notion was, Dr. Tofu had told him it was not an uncommon reaction.

Ranma raised his arms to stretch his back, then tucked his hands beneath his head. He should've seen the whole thing coming down anyway—Ryoga had been too quiet, too distant and withdrawn, yet upset all too easily, even for him, at the same time. His perpetual anger was nearly nonexistent, something which should have been an obvious clue that Ryoga was pressing it all down into some small corner of himself, trying to keep it locked away and hidden, out of everyone's sight. Ryoga had always shielded himself with anger—the hateful words, the violent attacks, even the way he tended to cross his arms and glare—all of it was a defensive barrier to hide behind, his way of covering up the uncertainty and fear and hurt that lay beneath. But he hadn't been able to keep it up all the time, no matter how hard he tried. It slipped or was knocked down, revealing an occasional glimpse of the fragility underneath that was the last thing Ryoga wanted people to see. He'd always managed to fling it back up again, to pretend that there was nothing wrong. Then he would try to distract people by increasing his hostility or acting oddly, anything to keep the attention off that which he wanted to hide the most…until Ranma's words had destroyed it completely that evening in the dojo. And Ryoga hadn't been able to build a wall out of dust. The anger had all but disappeared—any teasing on Ranma's part had been met with nothing greater than annoyance, any of Ukyo's misplaced aggression brought immediate hurt instead of retaliation. The only true anger Ryoga had was directed inward on himself, where it could do the most damage. And then, they'd all expected him to conform to a normal sort of lifestyle that Ryoga hadn't even attempted the likes of in years. Ranma wondered how any of them could've been so blind to something like that. Ryoga, who had never fit in well with that setting in the first place, Ryoga, who could be so naïve when it came to sociality, Ryoga, who could be so easily confused by people and their actions, Ryoga, who had always swung between being gullible and being overly-cynical. Ryoga, who they'd tried to force into the exact sort of situation he'd probably feared the most. To go to school, to interact with people he didn't really know, to pretend like everything was fine, to act like his curse didn't matter, to make it seem like nothing wrong had ever happened between any of them…and to think, Ranma had been surprised to find Ryoga bending under the pressure. But then again, Ryoga hadn't seen him, or any of them, as the means of support Ranma had thought he would, which had left the doorway open for everything to get loose.

It got loose alright, Ranma concluded sardonically. He thought briefly of the period of nightmares he'd had as well, many of which had caused him to wake up in the small hours of the morning in a cold sweat. They'd started after Ryoga had been released from the hospital and was allowed to return to Ukyo's. The ones Ranma could remember had usually involved a vivid replay of the events that had happened in the woods behind Furinkan and at the seawall. Though those were bad enough, it was the dreams that differed slightly from the actual occurrences that were truly frightening. Sometimes, instead of being pulled away from the edge of the wall, Ryoga would simply disappear before Ranma's eyes. On more than one occasion, Ranma dreamt about searching for Ryoga, but being unable to find him anywhere. In the most frightening of all the nightmares, Ranma had arrived at the bloody circle of pines seemingly in time to save him, only to have Ryoga die in his arms a few moments later. Ranma had woken up in such a state of anxiety that he'd awakened Ukyo with a phone call deep in the night, insisting frantically that she make sure Ryoga was alive and well upstairs. The nightmares had stopped a short while after that, much to everyone's relief.

Ranma fought back a yawn. Of course, the time Ryoga had spent back in the hospital had hardly been a picnic, either. Years of repressed memories and forgotten traumas had to be brought forth and contended with. Dozens of hurts that the Lost Boy had hidden deep within were remembered, speaking for the volumes of damage that had been lying beneath the dark and angry shield he'd tried to keep around him for so long. Ranma and the others had thought that these things would be mainly centered around Ryoga's life before coming to Nerima, but were surprised to find what an integral part they had played in just a few short years. Ryoga didn't have the social skills to deflect insults and tricks and harsh words, and each, no matter how small, had been another wound, another pinprick or stab at his heart. Worse was that Ryoga couldn't understand why most of it had happened, and worst of all was that the respective causes found themselves continually lacking explanations.

Then came the fighting. Guilt had driven the desire to blame someone else, and the accusations began to soar. Everyone wanted to believe that someone else was responsible for something they themselves had done, or that in truth no one was responsible for, but had simply happened. Arguments over various battles, underhanded schemes and manipulative arranged dates, team-ups and techniques, faked fiancées and planned thefts…all had sprung up. Some of the incidents were more noticeable than others—one argument that took place between Ranma and Mousse was over the time when Chinese boy had used Ryoga's aid to double-team Ranma. Ranma accused Mousse of messing with Ryoga's mind because he was too much of a coward to face him on his own. Mousse had replied by refreshing his memory of how a certain someone who Ryoga protected because of a weakening moxibustion had proceeded to thank the Lost Boy for his help by using him as target practice for a particularly nasty little technique. Things had escalated from there, and within a matter of moments the two were diving for each other's throats, halted only by Shampoo and Akane catching them in mid-lunge. Akane later picked a fight with Shampoo over what had happened with the Jusenkyo soap, rekindling old anger at what the violet-haired girl had done to Ryoga during her attempt to retrieve it. Shampoo had retaliated by giving her opinion on how Akane had treated Ryoga on her "date" that same day she was referring to. Ranma fought with Mousse again, Akane argued with Ranma, Ukyo bickered with Akane, and so it went on until there was nothing left for them to argue about.

Certain other issues had emerged as well while Ryoga tried to come to terms with everything. For one, Ryoga developed a marked discomfort of others being near him. The Lost Boy had often seemed a little ill at ease with close physical contact, but Ranma never would've expected the immense shift from occasional uneasiness to periodic states of complete aversion. At times, any contact made him jump and go rigid, and he began to put a distance of at least a few feet between himself and whoever else was around. Ryoga didn't seem to discriminate between who it was— the doctors, Ranma, Shampoo, Mousse, Akane and Ukyo and even Dr. Tofu—all seemed to distress him. Ranma had puzzled over this particular peculiarity for a long time before deciding it was the memories of physical and emotional abuse that were making him withdraw from physical contact; and Ryoga's involvement in martial arts likely reinforced the concept of touch resulting in pain. No member of the group could deny striking Ryoga at some point in time or another, not even Akane; so it made a sad sort of sense that he would shy away from them out of fear by association alone. Ranma had mentioned it to Dr. Tofu, who in turn assured him that the Lost Boy would probably overcome it eventually, but in the meantime suggested that they simply give Ryoga the space he wanted.

Another occurrence that Ranma still hadn't figured out the cause of happened shortly thereafter. He'd been in the room with Ukyo one day, just keeping company, and had been talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he'd said the word 'subway,' and the next thing he knew, Ryoga had paled and started trembling. Ranma and Ukyo had immediately asked what was wrong, but Ryoga had only shaken his head and backed away when they tried to get near him. Then Akane had walked through the doorway. The second Ryoga saw her, his face went completely white, and a moment later Ranma had been reaching out to catch him before he hit the floor in a dead faint.

Ranma had tried asking him what that had been all about on various occasions later, but Ryoga repeatedly evaded the question, leaving Ranma to speculate on his own.

Finally, things had begun to calm down. Skirmishes were settled, apologies were made, looks stopped threatening to kill, and things began to return to the semi-chaotic state that they considered typical. After three weeks and a decided improvement in his overall health, Ryoga had finally been allowed to leave the hospital. The school year had been readying to draw to a close for the summer, and the previously shifty spring weather was leaning towards more consistent warmth. The chaos level in Nerima seemed to be at an all-time low, thankfully allowing everyone to reestablish a sense of quasi-normalcy.

Of course, there had been a few minor hitches here and there. Ryoga had been predictably mobbed when he returned to school; the girls eager to lay eyes upon their object of infatuation that had been missing for weeks, the boys interested in finding out where their object of curiosity had been during all that time, especially since Ranma, Ukyo, and Akane had steadfastly refused to give any information whatsoever on their absentee friend. Luckily, they'd only had to put up with the heightened attention for a couple of weeks before the term ended.

A yawn summoned Ranma out of the memories. It had certainly been a ball. Reality was funny that way, he supposed. And then, just when things had seemed to be going alright, just when he'd been ready to breathe a sigh of relief…Ryoga had disappeared. Vanished, as though he'd never been around in the first place, leaving nothing but a scrawled note lying on the floor of the suddenly-empty bedroom on the third floor of Ukyo's home. Ukyo had cried, Akane had fretted, and Ranma had sworn that after they found him he was going to bar the window—all of which accomplished absolutely nothing.

Now, a couple weeks later, Ranma's initial thoughts had faded into more rational ones. After seeing the note Ryoga had left, Ranma had realized that the Lost Boy was probably already feeling a little pinned down. And, Ryoga had been right—if he'd said a word about leaving to Ukyo or himself, they both would've tried to stop him. Ranma knew that it had probably been better that things turned out the way they did; the last thing Ryoga needed were friends-turned-jailers.

Ranma glanced up to check the moon's position in the sky, and realized that it was getting late. Wherever he might be, the Lost Boy was undoubtedly asleep by now. Or so Ranma hoped.

Ryoga…you'd better come back safe…

Ukyo sighed heavily; feeling like her heart had been turned into lead. It was a feeling she'd become rather accustomed to over these last weeks, ever since…

The young chef shifted her broom into the crook of her elbow and gazed down at the piece of paper in her hand, which had by now become rather worn and faded.

Dear Ukyo,

I'm sorry to just leave like this, but I know you and Ranma never would've let me go if I'd said anything. I hope you won't be too angry with me, but there's this thing I have to do. I'll be back soon, I promise. Please don't worry.

Ryoga

Ukyo shook her head, feeling miserable. Of course she was worrying; she had been ever since the morning she woke up and found that Ryoga had gone, leaving nothing but a simple note to show that he'd ever been there at all. Everyone had immediately gone out to look for him, searching all of Nerima, a good part of Tokyo, and some of the surrounding woods. But Ryoga had succeeded in vanishing, as he seemed to have the acute ability to do when he wanted to. It was Akane who'd finally convinced everyone to stop panicking, pointing out that Ryoga probably wouldn't have taken everything with him if he wasn't sincerely intending to travel. And besides that, he'd promised in the letter that he would be back, and promises weren't something Ryoga often broke.

He'd promised to be back soon…but what did that mean? It had been over two weeks already…and Ryoga hadn't come back. Ukyo couldn't understand how she even missed him so much in the first place. He'd only been here for a few months, and his presence had been so subdued…subdued, but it had shone with a light of it's own all the same, a spot of bright in the darkness that typically surrounded him. But rather than being overpowered, that light had seemed enhanced, made all the more beautiful by the contrast…

Ryoga, you promised! Ukyo cried silently. She brushed a tear from her cheek and turned, intending to go inside. But before she slid open the door, she couldn't stop herself from looking up at the sky one more time, letting her eyes settle on a certain star.

Oh, Ryoga…

Ukyo faced to the door again, but noticed a new shadow cast by one of the streetlamps overlapping her own.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," Ukyo said, not bothering to turn around.

"That's a shame," said a soft, tenor voice from behind her. "I heard this is the only place in town that makes okonomiyaki without pork-"

The broom clattered to the ground, unsettling the neat pile of dust that had just been swept, but Ukyo didn't care. She was in his arms, and it was alright.