LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

Author's Note: An update, finally. The plot started tugging, and so did the angst, and so I returned to it. I'm glad I did, because I'm eager to move the story on forward.

CHAPTER 6

"He ate. He also broke the fork," Kazahaya said flatly. Lounging against the break room door, unaware of his feline grace, he gazed at Kakei and his partner in the hopes of reading their expression. Unfortunately, both of them schooled their features to impassivity, and what could be seen from behind Kakei's glasses was nothing more than exhaustion. He doubted Saiga-san even with all his sleeping wasn't feeling the same. "He broke the fork like this," snapping his fingers to demonstrate how cleanly the break was, "and he didn't sleep well last night, either."

"Did you tranquilize him?"

Staring at Kakei, Kazahaya wondered if his boss sensed his unwillingness to inflict more trauma on Rikuo. "No, I didn't." Wincing at how that sounded, he held his gaze and wished his voice wouldn't shake. "I – I can't do that to him. Not in the shape he's in."

"Himura broke the fork."

Kazahaya blinked as Saiga turned worriedly to his long-time partner. "Kakei, does that bother you? It bothers me. Nearly killed, but he still has enough power to break something. Did he do that to tell us something?"

The beautiful manager of Green Drugstore lowered his head into his entwined hands, covering briefly the shine of his glasses. The door felt hard and cold against Kazahaya's back as he braced himself for another knife in the ribs. There was an undercurrent here that he wasn't catching, and it churned his stomach just trying to grasp the significance of what Saiga-san said. For whatever reason, it didn't feel very optimistic. "I believe so, Saiga. It doesn't bode well."

"What?" he interrupted, disturbed. "If he's leaving me a message, what's Rikuo trying to tell me?"

Two bespectacled faces met his grimly. "Rikuo's telling us he's too broken to fix, Kudou-kun." Kakei-san always had a way about him, especially when it came to delivering bad news. There was gentleness wrapped around that bitter core of truth that Kazahaya immediately denied. It must've shown on his face, for the boss's next words were firmer, even as his voice went softer. "He's angry. He's afraid. Did he say anything else to you last night that might shed light on this?"

"He told me he's dying. But, he can't be! He's – he's back with us! He's safe!"

"Rikuo doesn't think he's safe, Kudou-kun. That's a big problem for us right there. He hasn't allowed anyone to touch him; yet, he's spoken to you. He has nightmares and flashbacks that disrupt his sleep…"

"And mine," Kazahaya mumbled, ashamed that such a triviality crossed his mind. Even as he thought that, he noticed Saiga reaching around to massage the younger-looking man's shoulders. Kakei-san appeared frailer, perhaps because of Rikuo's condition. With all of the commotion surrounding Rikuo, there were headaches aplenty and many more to spare. Lack of sleep was one of them, and trying to deal with those heart-wrenching screams that caused him to get his own nightmares was another.

He sighed, and met Saiga's still gaze.

"Boy, if he's dying inside, he'll eventually die. Whoever it was did a thorough job. They broke the boy who did the breaking for us, and if he destroys anything now, it's not for a side task that the boss assigned."

"We just have to help him rebuild his life." A strand of thick brown hair trailed over the lenses of Kakei's glasses, hiding the weary expression mirrored in sienna. "But if he's not ready, we can't push. Rikuo is at the brink; if we shove too hard, we'll lose him. He will die, then, Kudou-kun. We need to give him more time."

"How much more time does he need?"

"As much as he wants." It was a command; Kazahaya could hear the authoritative steel in his boss's usually mild-mannered tone. "It'll be another four to six weeks before the sling and wrappings come off, and by then, he should be well on his way to recovery. The physical scars we can deal with, but the psychological…" Once again, a slender hand covered that elegant profile. "I'm not sure what we can do about his emotional scars, Kudou-kun. Perhaps you're the only one who can."

"Me?" By the gods – he hated how his voice squeaked. For someone already eighteen, it was embarrassing. If Rikuo had never disappeared that night, never strode out of his life in search for something elusive, perhaps he would be the one mouthing off a sarcastic remark. It would be highly welcome, despite his vitriolic response to the usual. As it was, he nearly fell sideways off the door from the shock of Kakei-san's suggestion.

Idiot, he thought, and knew it to be true.

"You know him better than all of us in this room, with exception of a few secrets that we won't disclose to you, yet. He's terrified, yes, but he did respond to you. He told you a bit of his ordeal and he ate the food you gave him. Rikuo doesn't react the same way to us, do you understand? Rikuo sees Saiga and I as the enemy, which does give us a clue. The ones who did this to him were around our age, if not build and height. They probably were also astonishingly powerful – enough to handicap a boy whose ability should've protected him."

"And Tsukiko? What about her?"

"She's involved in it somehow. When it's time, you must use your ability to piece together Rikuo's experiences. You're the only one who can, given that he trusts you implicitly by the end."

"If he doesn't?"

"If he doesn't, we'll lose him. It's as simple as that."

"No." He felt himself trembling, arms clinging to his chest in a desperate attempt to avoid falling apart. Kazahaya sniffed, wanting to cry but he couldn't for his own damn pride and the fact that he couldn't go to pieces while Rikuo needed him. If Rikuo accepted his help, that is. At the moment, he didn't know which direction his partner struggled towards; whether it was a clamor for aid that sounded like a scream from hell, or a stubborn tug spiraling downwards into despair and death. "We can't lose him, Kakei-san. We can't."

"I know."

"We won't allow him to slip through our fingers, boy." Saiga said; his voice resolute and determined. Kazahaya often wished he could see the man's eyes, but that tone gave him enough emotion behind those shades. Saiga-san was equally concerned, if not emboldened to show that their eccentric family would survive this catastrophe. They would pull through; even if all of them sacrificed everything they had so that Rikuo would recover. More and more each day, Saiga-san was showing what he was capable of, and no longer was Kazahaya intimidated by the man's occasional teasing grope. It was nothing compared to this kind of support. Recently, though, even that had stopped. He wondered why.

"How are you dealing with his other concerns?"

"Other concerns?"

"Does he stay in bed all day, or does he get up to do his business? Himura's not developing bedsores, is he? His bandages need changing, right?"

Kazahaya slumped against the door, relieved that the cold metal backing supported his sagging weight. Worn, he glanced briefly at Kakei, recognizing the kindred look of bone-deep fatigue that leeched strength from them. Saiga, however, was as solid and supporting as a boulder – an apt description for his mental fortitude and his hulking presence – and the questions were still unanswered.

A few issues down. Several more to go.

"He does," he replied, fighting off the deep flush that burned his cheeks upon thinking about Rikuo "doing his business." Dammit. "He needs a shower and a change of bandages. I'll need some help."

"Do you need my help, boy?" Strange how Saiga changed a potentially brusque reply into something that wasn't unkind. Then again, the man could cook and sew; this wasn't the first time Saiga-san surprised him so. The shades turned from him towards Kakei, who appeared to be feeling much better, headache or not. "What do you think, Kakei?"

"Rikuo does need to be cleaned up, and Kudou-kun can't move him. You can, but are you willing to go through all that again?"

"I'm not the one who ended up with a bruise."

"Point made."

Kazahaya fidgeted. If he let them continue talking like this, the situation could get lovey-dovey; he didn't need that right now. A smile crossed his face when Saiga stood, patting Kakei on the shoulder, and the smaller man curled up on the couch to sleep. Kakei-san did need to rest, he thought. It wouldn't do them any good if the boss fainted. The effect of that would tax Saiga-san's nerves greatly. He was sure of it.

The big hulk of black swiftly broadsided him. "The boss is tired. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Is Himura?"

He felt his smile droop along with his shoulders. "He is, when he's finally able to sleep."

Saiga nodded next to him, keeping in stride. "He's asleep now?"

"I think so. Rikuo's also taken to looking at the walls when he's awake."

"Hate to give the boy more nightmares, but this has to be done. Just follow my lead like before, get it? If I tell you to go, go. Fill a syringe for me, and put it in a place where I can easily use it. He'll get wild – I'll guarantee that."

"Don't need to remind me," Kazahaya said, looking upwards as they rounded the corner. His footfall on the metal stairs barely registered, unlike the older man's heavy-footed rhythm as they ascended to the final floor.

Between them and the door was someone they cared for, lost in blood and terror.

Beside him, Saiga-san drew in his breath. "Come on."

Rikuo had bolted the very instant they crossed the threshold into his room. The curtains had opened to reveal the starkly pale face with wild green eyes staring back at them. Kazahaya's hand trembled as he jammed the syringe into the open bottle of tranquilizer, remembering the way how Rikuo's expression changed. The recognition that brightened those eyes when he stepped in suddenly shifted to wide-eyed horror when Saiga-san walked in like a figure out of a nightmare that he couldn't fully understand.

Rikuo was fast. Before he could even blink, his partner had scrambled backwards, towards the bed. Saiga-san was swift in following, Kazahaya recalled, sick to his stomach. Focusing on the task at hand, he filled the syringe with the drug, tapped it against the bottle, and placed it down on the bedside table. Wailing echoed from the bathroom in an echoless room. It rung in his ears, and he wanted to clap his hands over them to cover the terrible sound that forced tears into his eyes. Helpless, he wandered over to the source of it, and knocked on the bathroom door.

"NO! NO! Don't touch me!"

"You need to wash yourself, boy. The other can barely help you in this, and you hurt the boss by thrashing around. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Don't hurt me again! Please, don't!"

Tears fell unbidden down Kazahaya's cheeks, as bitter as the anguish he heard. Rikuo, begging? Was this what he sounded like during those few weeks when he went missing? The voice on the other side, strained and hoarse as it was, was still undeniably Rikuo. He had never heard Rikuo scream like this before. It shook him to think of Rikuo even begging for mercy while his tormentors damaged him. He'd seen that pinched look on his face whenever he'd mentioned family to him, and there was that one time when that cat unraveled. Rikuo had shouted Tsukiko's name back, then.

That was shouting of a different sort, though. Nothing like this. Nothing could compare to this cry that either Kakei-san, Saiga-san, or he could comprehend. It hurt to hear it. Wincing, he tapped on the door again, hoping for a response.

"Boy, don't come in here. You don't need to see this."

See what? What was Saiga-san hiding from him?

"No! No! I'll…please, don't…"

A harsh intake of breath on the other side stopped Kazahaya cold. "Whatever did they do to you, boy?" Silence; followed by a sobbing breath. "Do you need help turning the shower on?" He felt like an eavesdropper, and it was unnaturally quiet. Placing his hand on the doorknob, steeling himself, Kazahaya walked in.

Several things happened instantaneously. Saiga-san whirling around, his mien stern; Rikuo shrinking against the tub; his shock at seeing the bruises anew, the gashes and scars twisting dark and scabbed on skin; the sudden crackle and explosion of glass; Saiga-san covering him so that the glass pelted off of them; and the realization that he still didn't know what shocked Saiga-san.

Behind them, Rikuo moaned. "No…no…I didn't…"

The mirror was gone. On the floor numerous shards sparkled, sharp and deadly. Not ungently, Saiga-san released him, dusting off the tiny sparkles in his hair. "Are you okay, boy?" Stunned, Kazahaya nodded. "Why didn't you listen to me?"

"I – I couldn't take it anymore. I'm sorry."

"He broke the fork. He broke the mirror. He's out of control."

"…didn't mean to…didn't want to hurt him…"

"I'll be right back, boy. Need to clean up this glass, or he's going to cut himself up." As soon as Saiga left the room, Kazahaya carefully tip-toed around the floor until he knelt beside Rikuo. Fighting off the urge to hold onto the boy's hands, he leaned against the bathtub and looked carefully at him.

Rikuo was a wreck. Kazahaya twitched, wanting to brush aside the greasy locks of dark hair that shadowed that tortured face. He couldn't see much of it, since Rikuo wasn't looking at him. Hadn't glanced in his direction since the mirror broke, actually. Kazahaya swallowed. Did he blame himself for that? Was he still trying to protect him? Head spinning, he grabbed the side of the tub for support. Just as he did, he noticed anew the healing web of scars on Rikuo's back, twisted and brown, and ugly. They would remain there for the rest of Rikuo's life, he knew, and that knowledge knifed him in the heart. What would his partner see reflected in mirrors – someone who survived a terrible and deliberate act of cruelty, or a loser who made the worst mistake and undid his life in one evening? He didn't know the answer, couldn't give it to him, and that frightened him the most.

Once drawn to the pattern of scars, he kept looking. His stomach doubled as he recognized the arm that held Rikuo's tattoo. The tattoo was missing; no, not missing. Skinned. Someone had skinned it off, leaving in its place a mockery of scar tissue. There were evident signs of chafing and burn marks on his wrists, encircling them with a precision that scared him. Rikuo sat huddled listlessly beside him, fallen silent. Glass glittered from the tile floor, as if whispering secrets into the echoless room. Shuddering, Kazahaya let his gaze continue even as he fought not to weep.

Contusions purple and red, seething with blood, trailed down Rikuo's hips. Laceration marks, similar to the ones on his back swathed his legs, and his ankles ringed by scars appeared slightly swollen. A long irregular gash that he couldn't figure out wound its way up the inside of Rikuo's thigh, ragged and slightly faded. Kazahaya closed his eyes. He'd only seen how badly Rikuo was injured from the waist-up before; only now, did he fully understand how much abuse he'd taken. Little wonder Saiga-san tried to prevent him from noticing.

He needed to know, though. He just had to.

"Rikuo?"

Trembling next to him, small but significant. A shaky breath that wasn't the voice he longed to hear. He yearned to see those eyes, but Rikuo wasn't showing them to him. There was fear and guilt mixed here – a heavy burden for someone already viciously crushed. Rikuo's splinted fingers shook among the broken glass, skidding haphazardly, and opening flesh. Blood wetly smeared the tiles, grinding the color red deeply into Kazahaya's head.

"Rikuo?"

Outside, Kazahaya thought he heard some movement. It didn't matter.

"Rikuo?"

An inward pull of limbs, and the boy that used to goad him still didn't turn his head. "Rikuo, it wasn't your fault. You – you didn't mean to break the glass, and –"

"I could've killed you."

"You didn't. Don't you understand that?"

"I – I broke the fork. I didn't – I didn't mean to." Blood dripped from Rikuo's torn fingers, dabbling white with crimson. "I – I can't…I can't control…useless –"

"Don't say that!"

"No. No. Just –" A flurry of scars and skin, limbs and flying hair, and Rikuo was on the other side of the room. It seemed a yawning gap between them, and the rejection stung. Kazahaya stared, alarmed at the streak of blood that marked Rikuo's hasty retreat. "I don't want to hurt you. Please – leave me alone."

"You didn't –"

"Please," the other boy said, finally meeting his desperate gaze. The emerald depths were torn, wretched and sick. Sick at heart, Kazahaya realized. He felt the same way, looking at how forlorn Rikuo appeared, scarred and freshly bloodied. The eyes that looked back at him were lifeless. Boy, if he's dying inside, he'll eventually die. Swallowing his tears, Kazahaya braced himself against the wall. His knees were weak. He felt lightheaded.

"Rikuo –"

"Don't, Kazahaya. I – I can't."

"Rikuo, I –" The room whirled, pitching him forward.

A rustle of cloth, a crunch of glass, and Saiga-san stood beside him, holding him up. "Hey, don't faint on us like that. You didn't touch him, did you?"

His head swam; light shimmered around him. "No."

"I didn't like how the conversation was going, so I decided to step in. That's what Kakei will want, you know. The broom and dustpan are outside. Looks like I'll have to take care of it later."

"Why? Why didn't you leave me to die?"

Shocked, Kazahaya jolted awake, staring bewildered at Rikuo. Next to him, Saiga moved forward a step, and then stopped. This wasn't the question he wanted to hear Rikuo ask. He'd known the younger psychic was suicidal, but to ask them "why"? Rikuo gazed at them – at him – and smiled bitterly.

"We don't just leave people to die, boy."

"I've lost everything. There – there is no loss."

He wanted to scream. "Rikuo – look at me. You told me – you told me that somehow I was there for you. You want to throw all that away because you want to die? Why?"

"Because you can't do anything to help me!"

Rikuo's telling us he's too broken to fix, Kudou-kun. He was crying again for the second time in a row. Since the night they found Rikuo, his tears seemed endless. Was Rikuo even capable of coming back? Was that smirking, sarcastic, perverted sense-of-humor jackass lost forever? Or did his assailants kill that off before they proceeded to destroy his body piece by piece while listening to his screams? Or did they save that for last, mutilating it beyond recognition and leaving it as scraps in a sea of blood?

Rikuo was there. The fierce sense of protection; the stubbornness that used to drive him insane was still intact. But the rest? It was gone or lost – a jarring sense of something missing and that lack stared back at him through a pair of hollow eyes. Saiga-san hadn't budged from his side since the question was thrust forth; perhaps the shock of it left him immobile, too. This new Rikuo, eerily passive, quiet, and unassuming could've been him. It was possible.

Anything was possible when it involved him.

What exactly did those bastards do to Rikuo?

"Boy, go lie down and rest. You're in no shape to handle this."

"But, Saiga-san –"

"No 'buts', boy. Go and sleep. I think you need it as much as Kakei." He felt a firm grip guide him out of the bathroom, steering him away from pinpricks of glass. A swath of fabric parted before him, blurry through his tears. "I'll give you this just to make sure," the deep voice said behind him, and the answering sting of the needle in his arm induced a sudden drowsiness that he'd never experienced before. Gently, he felt himself tucked in, with sheets pulled up to his chin; and before his world vanished in a deep mire of black, one thing resounded in his mind.

Because you can't do anything to help me!

It was his personal nightmare.