LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

Author's Notes: Because I'm going to be alluding to Legal Drug, Vol. 3 (due out in June from Tokyopop), I'm going to recommend a site that has downloads of a translated scan of Vol. 3: Remedy. It's rather easy to find on Google. This way, I can avoid infuriating and spoiling a bunch of fans, and perhaps a sneak peek at the upcoming volume won't be so bad, either.

CHAPTER 2

He slept, and did not dream. It was a peaceful sleep, undisturbed with the benefit of being nice and long. For many nights after Rikuo's disappearance, Kazahaya was able to enjoy the sensation of floating away on a pleasant level of unconsciousness without being rudely awoken. Kakei-san had reassured him about his teammate's safety the day he found Rikuo missing, so Kazahaya let the feelings of unease pass. Now, wrapped in his blankets and comforter like a butterfly in a cocoon, he was warm, drifting, and blissfully aware of his limbs being sprawled across the pillow and the crisp white sheets. The furriness of the comforter rubbed against his cheek, and he sighed. Light from the window spilled into the room, bathing it in a chilly white glow. It was too comfortable; too irresistibly perfect after such a tumultuous night. Life should've gone back to being normal, but as usual, it enjoyed playing smoke and mirrors with him.

Having found Rikuo, perhaps he'd expected a painful wake-up call.

That was what probably awoke him.

Kazahaya blinked, lime-green eyes half-open against the winter light. Groaning wholeheartedly at the prospect of another day of work, he forced himself to his knees and twisted his torso. The sound of his spine popping free from its cramped restraints eased his discomfort but niggled at something dark in his mind. Disregarding it for the moment, he pulled on his work shirt, mumbling something about it being his turn to cook breakfast.

His fingers stopped, and his heart plummeted.

It was oddly silent in the apartment – it shouldn't have been. Not when it was usually Rikuo's self-made job to wake him by stomping him with his foot or throwing his shoe on his stomach. Not when Rikuo and he often jibed at each other; himself, annoyed while Rikuo teased him about anything from his virginity to his apparent tardiness. Not when even Kakei-san and Saiga-san joined in on the teasing once the shop opened first thing in the morning. A glance at the alarm clock confirmed the rising feeling of dread in his gut.

He was late, and where was Rikuo?

Thinking back to the night before only jolted him into tugging on his work slacks as fast as he could. Rikuo was – is, he amended in his head – injured, and badly, too. He couldn't make much sense out of the memories that he'd channeled from his roommate, for they were jumbled and broken – much like Rikuo was himself. Tsukiko, however, was there, glimmering in his thoughts like a star. Out of all of the times that he'd seen into the stoic and annoying boy's past, she was there. Tsukiko was always there – never forgotten; much like how Kei haunted his dreams.

Upon realization of last night's incident, Kei faded into the background. What he glimpsed from that dark corner in his mind was the image of the tall, lanky, and heavily-built boy with eyes like hard green ice lying curled up against a bloodied wall, on crimson-stained snow, shivering from not only the cold but from a wound deeper within. Rikuo's wildly troubled eyes bothered Kazahaya more than he'd like to admit. Those eyes, shadowed and dilated, were utterly afraid; leaving him wholly paralyzed by something that none of them could yet comprehend. It was enough to have found him, Kazahaya told himself as he dashed for the curtain, ripping it aside. It was enough. Should've been enough.

But it wasn't, and he knew it.

He stopped upon reaching Rikuo's room, startled by the slight form of Kakei sitting by Rikuo's bedside. The same chilly light shone through the paned glass; however, Kazahaya felt as if he'd walked into a hospital with whitewashed walls. Unlike his room, Rikuo's smelled like medicine and decay. Quietly approaching the two, he noticed the glass of water on the nightstand, complete with a thermometer and an accompanying roll of bandages. And gleaming on the side, as if abandoned, was an empty syringe.

"Kakei-san, how is he?"

The owner of Green Drugstore rubbed wearily at his eyes, dislodging his glasses. "He's in need of rest, Kudou-kun. He woke up during the night, delirious, and started panicking. We did what we could but he wouldn't listen to us. It was like as if we weren't there with him. As you see, we had to tranquilize him again." Kakei arched against the metal backing of the chair and stretched, fingers interlocked until the faint sheen of bone appeared beneath his skin. "Saiga and I took shifts to watch him. You slept rather well, though."

Kazahaya blushed. "I did?"

"Yes, you did," Kakei said gently. "At first, I was afraid that Rikuo's memories had overwhelmed you again but it seemed like just a passing spell. You were mostly tired, I presume." Kakei yawned, and then shook his head. "Like I am, at the moment."

"Is the store going to open today?"

"No."

"Oh." It sounded lame coming from him, but it took Kazahaya by surprise. The drugstore rarely closed its doors, unless if it were for an emergency. Rikuo being battered, torn, bruised, and scarred certainly counted as such. In the short amount of time that they knew each other, the four of them had become like a rambunctious family: Saiga-san with his quirky mannerisms and his trademark shades; Kakei-san with his motherly attitude and oh-so-frightening alter ego; himself with his short tempers and inclination for embarrassment; and, Rikuo with his snide comments and his marvelous ability to care hidden behind a stony face. It was because they had become family that he was able to stand here, calmly chatting to Kakei-san, all the while heeding the incessant pain in his heart.

"Kudou-kun, you don't mind watching over him for me, do you?"

"No." It was an honest answer. "Why?"

"Well, I've been watching him since seven. And I'm tired. You just woke up, and since you won't have to work today…how about taking over for me? Consider it your duty for today."

He smiled. "I'll do it, Kakei-san."

"I thought you would, Kudou-kun. After all, he is your friend, whether you choose to believe it or not. And he needs you right now. He needs all of us, whether or not he chooses to believe it or not. Just one thing –"

"Yeah?"

The chair rattled as Kakei stood, nearly swaying over with exhaustion. "Don't touch him unless you have to. The last thing we need is for you to pass out like last night. If he wakes up or starts having nightmares, talk to him. If you can't do anything about it, let one of us know. We'll be downstairs in the break room. Just knock on the door or shout. We'll hear you."

"Will do."

"Thank you, Kudou-kun. I left some oatmeal and applesauce in the pantry, in case Rikuo wakes up hungry. I also bought an extra pack of bacon for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep." The slender form of the young psychic disappeared around the corner of the door, leaving only the swaying drape of curtain as a lingering sign of his presence.

Sighing, Kazahaya sat down, scraping the chair legs against the floor as he dragged it closer to the bed. Leaning forward, he peered down at Rikuo. Strange, how sleep – no matter how drugged – smoothed out the stress and scowl lines on his face. Rikuo Himura looked younger, albeit they were both eighteen – and Rikuo was a few months behind him in terms of years. If it wasn't for the puffy, bruised patch on his right cheekbone, the empath would've called him handsome.

Kazahaya blushed and buried his face in his hands.

Since when did he start thinking like that about his co-worker? About Rikuo, the one guy that he swore to get revenge against for the many humiliations he'd been subjected to? True, Rikuo was a bastard when he chose to be. True, that "job" in that all-boys school opened his eyes to the overall attractiveness of his stronger partner. True, Rikuo could be caring and gentle, if not a bit peeved about constantly saving his sorry ass. And also true was that no matter what Rikuo did to embarrass him in the past, Kazahaya would never wish this kind of punishment on him.

No one deserved this kind of treatment. He was glad to see that Saiga-san and Kakei-san had wrapped the worst of the wounds in bandages. The lacerations bled heavily last night, he recalled with a shiver. Something or someone had it out on Rikuo, and until Rikuo came to and spoke, none of them would truly know what happened. Dropping his hands into his lap, Kazahaya glanced glumly at the unconscious body lying across from him. Only he could figure it out. Only he, with his empathic powers, could reach into the mind and memories of Rikuo Himura, and unravel the tortured threads that he'd been ambushed with the night before. If only Kakei-san hadn't placed such a strong condition upon him, he would be doing something by now. He knew it was for his own good; nevertheless, he couldn't just sit here and watch.

He'd also told Rikuo that he wouldn't dig through his memories, and that was akin to a promise. So out flew that idea, he mused miserably.

Neither was he too eager to upset Kakei-san by making a fool out of himself.

There was only one thing he could do to remove himself from this situation – dunk his head into a bathtub full of hot water and get out of his work clothes. They were as stifling and rigid as the atmosphere in here, and Kazahaya wanted none of that for the moment.

When he finished his bath and crept back into the room, dressed in a casual shirt and hand-me-down jeans salvaged from god-knows-where, Rikuo was still sleeping. He threw the empty syringe into the trash basket next to the nightstand, and remained standing. The light outside was no longer as brilliant or as icy; instead, it had mellowed with the hours, turning warm and subdued. Rikuo's room shone with a golden glow. It was quite a difference, and Kazahaya liked it.

If only. He had a lot of "if only" in his vocabulary today. If only Rikuo would awaken, showing the jade flicker of irises. If only he would move, even goddamn twitch, things might start going back to normal. He wondered - not for the first time - how many doses of the tranquilizer Kakei-san gave to the boy to put him into this state. Rikuo's voice was also shot, according to his boss. If only he would wake up and talk. Say something – say anything. This silence, this futile waiting, drove Kazahaya insane.

It was like waiting for a comatose patient to recover.

"I can't believe it's you lying there," he finally said, breaking the stale silence. "All of this time, you were worried about me. About saving my ass from trouble. And now, it's you lying there. Why did you leave us, Rikuo? Where did you go, and what happened to you?"

There was no reply.

He hadn't expected any. Sitting down, he gazed upon that weary face, hoping for a flicker of the eyelids. Nothing. Kazahaya sighed for the umpteenth time that day. Behind those closed lids were eyes that seared one with its green gaze, cut with its emerald scorn, and softened with verdant reminiscence. He longed to see them again. Yearned to hear that deep voice scoff at his many mistakes or his naivety, or laugh at his blushing reaction to many well-placed innuendos.

Instead, he looked down to find a shell, with its inhabitant bound in bloodstained wrappings. Kakei-san apparently saw what he witnessed last night – that Rikuo had a broken arm. Splinted and slung, the limb lay across Rikuo's chest, which imperceptibly rose and fell. Shadowed though his eyes were, the dark lashes brushed pale skin. With the soft white shirt covering majority of his body, the bared flesh appeared whiter, compounded by the scattering of bruises that were oh-so-dark.

Kazahaya wished that that darkness wouldn't be in his eyes.

Rising from the chair once again, he took his leave, using the rumbling of his stomach as his excuse to get away. He'd run before, away from Kei. He ran now, away from that alien being that should've been his early-morning alarm clock – with heavy shoes, nonetheless – and his source of rowdy entertainment throughout the day. He ran to the kitchen to fry some bacon and eggs, to fill his stomach to settle a certain kind of pain. The other source of pain, he knew without a doubt, would continue so as long as Rikuo lay there, unresponsive.

Because he had to admit something that he'd never thought he would miss.

He missed Rikuo, with his brashness and roughness. He missed the yelling, the laughter, the joking, and the camaraderie. He missed all of those things that made life at Green Drugstore memorable.

He wanted Rikuo back.