Chapter 24
Awake
The small man was, very clearly, miserable – as was his lover.
The other men in their party were clearly ignoring this.
Kenshin flinched as the argument in the next room escalated suddenly into shouted insults, accusations, and curses – all of which managed to be so loud and disruptive that they woke the sleeping Kenji.
The argument broke off with a guilty sort of abruptness as the child's wails filled the house.
"It's your turn to get him," Kaoru muttered sleepily, rolling over onto her other side.
Kenshin, already sleep-deprived and suffering from rapidly-fraying nerves, was foolish enough to attempt to argue.
"This one has attended to our son the last three times they woke him," he pointed out.
"They're your family," she argued, and it was clear that she had no intention of getting up whatsoever.
Kenshin stifled a sigh and got out of bed, padding to their son's room to take the young boy up in his arms. The child had lived a blessedly peaceful life so far, and was terrified by the anomaly of raised voices – particularly after the little incident with that 'Doom' character. Kenji would not stop crying if left alone but, rather, would continue his wails with increasingly greater distress until someone managed to convince him that he was safe.
Unfortunately, Kenji still preferred his warm and loving mother to his gentle and soft-spoken father, and though Kenshin could suffice as caretaker as needed, it was not without difficulty. The two-year-old seemed stubbornly content to fight his father's love. On days when dark memories pressed too painfully close, Kenshin found himself wondering if his son's innocent soul could sense the blood that dripped in the past of the man once called manslayer. Perhaps it was Kenshin's own dirty soul which was the cause for his son's aversion to him.
Kaoru tended to impatiently brush these concerns away, blaming the lack of connection on Kenshin's frequent absences during the first year of the child's life.
"A kid isn't going to understand that you were gone because you were helping people and searching for atonement," she always said, impatient with the subject. "Anyway, he's probably just scared of your scar. Pick him up – he'll get used to you eventually."
Kenshin found himself sending a tired glare toward the bedroom that housed the two responsible for his son's waking. He began to pace the hall, his screaming child held securely in his arms.
Yohji and Aya had been arguing almost constantly since the latter's injury and there was, simply, no escape. Everyone was in agreement that, as there was no way to know who their enemies would attack next, the group should not be split again. No one was to leave the dojo grounds for any reason.
Omi and Ken should have taken all of the responsibility for helping to mediate the growing conflict between their teammates, but the younger men were stubbornly ignoring it. In fact, both actually seemed intent on pretending that everything was fine.
Yohji, too, was denying any conflict, and Aya…
Aya hadn't spoken in days, except to insult his lover.
The group was fracturing. Their enemies were clearly too dangerous for any of them to attempt taking on individually, yet the ties that bound them to one another seemed to be eroding away – at a time when their friendship would be most needed, it looked as if it was at its weakest.
Kenshin sighed, and hugged his son tightly.
"I think the kid's finally gone back to sleep," Yohji said into the silence that surrounded them. The words sounded as if they had been pulled, quite unwillingly, from his lips.
Aya shot his lover a flat glare that clearly conveyed his heartfelt wish that the man would just shut the hell up.
Yohji gave a heartfelt sigh that verged on the melodramatic, and scrubbed a hand back through his hair. "Look," he began, uncharacteristically awkward.
"Don't."
Yohji stared at him, not missing the clear threat that had been in the smaller man's voice.
Aya was the first to look away. "It's not fair if we wake him again. We've already frightened him three times this week," he said with all the coldness he would muster. He couldn't face the pained look in Yohji's green eyes.
"Why do we have to fight?" the blonde asked. He looked truly confused. "Why can't we just handle this like adults? Why won't you talk to me?"
Another flat look was the only answer Aya was willing to give. As far as he was concerned, Yohji was the one being childish.
"Aya…" Yohji moved toward him, coming to his knees at his side. The vulnerable and confused expression on his face was infuriating. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why are you doing this? What have I done to piss you off this much?"
"For starters?" he growled. "You let Esset get away!"
"Esset was kicking my ass, sweetheart, and you know it," he smiled.
Aya looked away, shuddering at the hideous nickname. This was one of those utterly disturbing times when Yohji's little pet names for him sounded less like the wonderful barriers they were supposed to be and more like the actual expressions of affection that Aya had forbidden.
Yohji's voice was torturously gentle. "We were both about to kick it, baby. Much as I hate it, the truth is that if it hadn't been for Schuldig…"
"You didn't even ask about my sister!" he accused.
"When could I have done that – with you so busy trying to pour all your blood out on he ground?" he countered. "How're you gonna help her if you're dead? You were injured. I made the decision that would save your life."
"You made a stupid decision because you weren't thinking! I would have survived, but you were too worried to do your job!"
"Aya…" he blined. "Why is it such a sin for me to worry about you?"
"You don't do stupid things to protect Omi or Ken!"
"I'm not sleeping with Omi or Ken. I don't feel the same way about them that I do about you."
"So then you admit it? You admit you can't maintain your professionalism if your lover is in danger?"
"Forgive me if I have issues about watching the person I love die!"
Aya stopped, staring at him.
"Falling in love," he corrected.
"What?"
"You said the person you love. You meant the person you were falling for. Right?"
Yohji only stared at him, and all of Aya's earlier anger slowly began to become terror.
"Kudoh," he said slowly. "You meant falling, right?"
"I…" the blonde began.
He was prevented from having to answer when the door opened. Kenshin offered them his most harmless smile.
"As this one was already awake anyway, he thought he might check on the patient's dressings," he offered humbly.
"Yeah, sure," Yohji agreed, rising.
Aya glared at him. "Where are you going?" he demanded.
"A walk."
He wouldn't look at Aya or Kenshin. He was gone by the time Kenshin reached his descendant's side.
"Such a fierce scowl!" the older man observed with a smile, carefully helping Aya to sit up. "One so young and so full of wrath is often a dangerous adversary to have. This one almost pities Yohji-dono."
"He screwed up."
"Ah. You believe that caring for someone is a weakness?"
"When it makes you stupid."
"Ah," Kenshin said again, chuckling as he carefully unwrapped the bandages. "Then there is no one in your life who you would have cause to be 'stupid' for?"
Aya's mind immediately, cruelly, flashed on a tinkling laugh and long, dark braids of hair. As he shoved away the painful memories, there may have been the ghostly image of green eyes and the scent of cigarette smoke following.
"You are healing quite quickly!" Kenshin exclaimed in approval. "Has your body always been so forgiving?"
He nodded once, sharply.
"This one is the same," Kenshin said, continuing in his work.
Aya felt a flash of guilt as his ancestor turned his head to yawn into his sleeve.
"I'm sorry that we woke you," he found himself saying.
Kenshin didn't answer for several long moments.
"Odd that the sounds of conflict are so much more disruptive than the sounds of lovemaking," he commented at last.
"I should apologize for that, too."
"It never bothered this one. None in this house, save your unfortunate teammates, even noticed."
"We…didn't come here to disrupt your lives. I…I would have preferred never to have you even know we were here."
"No, this one is happy to have been given the chance to meet you all, whatever the circumstance."
"You are?"
"Apologies if this one's behavior has indicated otherwise. This one is in truth quite fond of you – and your friends as well."
"You just don't approve of our work."
"This one is too well aware of where those paths lead."
They were silent for a long time. Oddly, it was a comfortable sort of silence, for which Aya could only feel grateful.
"This one…" Kenshin hesitated. "If this one may only give you one small bit of advice?"
Aya reluctantly nodded.
Kenshin kept his eyes fixed on his work.
"If you do not take care, you may find that one day blood has fully overtaken both your heart and your soul...but it isn't hopeless, I think. There seems to be someone willing to watch over them for you, if you will let him." Kenshin finished wrapping the bandage and rose. He met Aya's look of surprise with a large, genuine smile, and left without another word.
Aya stared at the place where the smaller man had been, unable to think, unable to move. He was shaking and his wound was beginning to ache. He suddenly felt empty, and frightened. He cast about for Yohji but, of course, the blonde had left.
Aya was alone.
Yohji Kudoh stared at the closed door to the room he and his lover shared and tried to convince himself to go in.
He'd taken a walk around the grounds and finished off the last of his modern-world cigarettes (he'd have to resort to the time-period-appropriate ones now, which really was no fun at all.) He'd taken as much time as he could with his wandering, tried his best to calm his reeling mind, and attempted to work everything out in a way which wouldn't drive him insane.
Yet he still wasn't ready to talk to Aya.
Yohji was in love with Aya. With every breath in his body he loved that damn man. He had realized the extent of his feelings the moment the Esset agent's sword had slashed into the small man's body. As his blood had begun to spill out onto the ground, it had been Yohji's heart that had wanted to stop.
For the first time he had been forced to consider what would mean to him if Aya were to die.
If Aya died…
Yohji pushed the nearly crippling thought away. He'd been forced to bury a lover one time too many already. He already knew what that felt like, damn it!
But this…this was breaking the rules, wasn't it? Aya had been very clear about what he did and did not want from their arrangement, and Yohji had been…Yohji had been arrogant, hadn't he? Just because he hadn't been able to truly love anyone since Asuka…just because he's had countless emotional affairs…he had really honestly thought himself capable of resisting the endearingly gruff charms of the small, fierce Aya Fujimiya.
He saw now how stupid he had been. Being wanted, being needed by that man…
Aya had been happy when Yohji had only been falling for him, but now…not that they both knew he actually loved him…Aya wouldn't be able to handle it.
Yohji stared at the door and knew that if he opened it he would probably lose Aya forever.
And so he couldn't bear to do it.
"Damn it…"
The door opened without any help on his part, and everything immediately flew out of Yohji's mind.
"You aren't supposed to be out of bed!" he blurted.
Aya was pale and shaking, leaning his weight entirely on the doorframe. He looked at Yohji with an odd mixture of horror and desperation, his purple eyes like bruises in his pale face, his skin nearly white.
He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. His white-knuckled death-grip on the fragile doorframe slipped as his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he stumbled forward.
Yohji caught him up easily in his arms as the small man slumped bonelessly. Aya was as unresisting as a rag doll as Yohji carried him back into the bedroom, and he woke a few moments after Yohji set him back into the bed.
"Damned idiot is what you are!" Yohji shot when he saw his eyelashes flutter. Frantically, the blonde checked to make sure that his lover hadn't reopened any wounds or caused some other form of damage. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"
Although Aya didn't answer, Yohji was still sure that he heard him.
The sword wound was a cruel imperfection against the smooth alabaster of Aya's skin. Red, angry, violent against all that smooth white. The stitches that held the wound closed were neatly done, but black and ugly compared with the perfection Yohji knew his lover's body to be.
But at least it hadn't reopened.
"Stupid…stubborn son of a bitch idiot!" Yohji, forgetting that they were currently angry at each other, brushed a relieved kiss against his skin, the stitches rude and harsh against his lips.
He lifted his head at the feel of a hand in his hair. The shaken, trapped look on Aya's face was still there, but there was something else as well.
"You're going to…worry…about me no matter what I do, aren't you?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah. I am."
They stared at each other in silence for several long moments, each lost as to how to continue.
"Why the hell are we fighting?" Yohji asked at last.
"Because you're an idiot."
"So let me be an idiot," Yohji kept his voice light as he reached out and brushed hair out of Aya's face. "We're both still benefiting from this, aren't we? What's it really gonna hurt it I…worry?"
Aya only grunted.
He wouldn't speak even to offer protest when Yohji stretched himself out next to him in the bed, gathering him up carefully in his arms and hiding his face against his neck.
"Stubborn son of a bitch," he muttered against Aya's skin, his voice warm and fond. "Cruel little bastard."
"Idiot."
Yohji smiled against the gruffly indulgent tone to his lover's voice, and tightened his hold as much as he dared.
"If you say so, sweetheart."
"This doesn't mean anything."
"You want me to leave you alone?"
"…no."
Yohji laughed.
"Come away from the window!" Crawford sighed, irritated, and tried to soften his voice at the sight of the worried, slightly bewildered look on the boy's face. He had never seen Nagi look so young. "It's too dark to see anything out there, anyway," he added, a little more gently.
"It's been over a week."
His patience for the boy vanished.
"Since when are we supposed to be surprised when Schuldig vanishes?" he demanded, turning his attention back to the book he'd brought from the modern world. When Schuldig reappeared, he was going to make sure the man suffered. "I'm half tempted," he mumbled, more to himself than to the boy, "to just leave him here when the time comes to return home."
"You told him he could torment Weiss only as long as he promised to check in once a day. He promised to do it!"
"The man is a liar."
"He wouldn't risk Weiss."
Crawford didn't answer. The silence stretched for several moments, broken only by Farfarello's giggles. The madman had managed to find a dead rat and had been playing with it all day. Although it was disturbing, he was harder to control when Schuldig was out of the house. Anything that kept his attention diverted was well worth it.
"Schuldig is a pain," Crawford said at last, dismissing the subject. "Worrying about him is exactly what he wants you to do."
"You know I'm right," Nagi muttered sullenly.
tbc
I got some review responses out, but not all of them. Please don't be insulted if you didn't receive one; I feel so silly when all I can think of to say is "thanks."