Mask of Innocence

Disclaimers: Hunter X Hunter and all mentioned characters are owned by Mr. Yoshihiro Togashi and all proper companies. Being that the anime is still in progress, this story is twisted enough to have me arrested. I apologize for the lack of needed information, but I need to give this thing an ending. So with that said, please base the storyline only until the end of the arc with the Geneiryodan.
Notes: I know I'm getting annoying with my persistence, but I just have to make this clear. In the manga, Kurapika's eyes are brown (tea color). But in the anime, his eyes are blue. I quote (episode 52, Filipino dub, Kurapika speaking with Senrithsu):

"Asul ang aming mga mata (Our eyes are blue)..."

Now, I remember why I used blue. I heard it in that episode. It's not my fault if that's yet another glitch in the dubbing. Blame the network with the copyright, not me. If they are mistaken, well, I'm sorry. I'll try to purchase the Japanese version of that episode so I can check, okay? ^^

Epilogue – Surviving the Storm (Leorio and Kurapika)

Empty.

My eyes can barely see, and my hands have grown completely numb. If only I could find the one who can wash the pains of bloodshed away, I'll be eternally grateful.

Heaven. If you exist, I bring you a desperate prayer.

* * * * *

The violent, rhythmic dancing of the dim flame was all that lighted the whole room, which, in itself, still is a tad bit too dark. It definitely was not the kind one would prefer while reading, but the diligent man who sat just beside the oil lamp remained the same. Dark, chocolate-brown eyes ran through the letters that graced the thick medical textbook, straining to see, yet undaunted.

Hours have passed before the dark figure finally decided to move. A weary sigh was cast off amidst the room's thick silence, and the slight creak of the chair sounded promptly as the man shifted in his seat, both his arms falling to his sides to at least allow his blood to circulate properly again.

It seemed to take forever. He felt the cold winds of winter come through his opened window as flashes of his earlier studies ran through his mind. His head felt rather stressed. Then again, four hours of studying non-stop with only a small bottle of water and a mug of coffee to wash down the fatigue is, in fairness, exhausting.

A tired hand came up from its limp state to reach up and take a hold of the thin eyeglasses, lifting it up from both his ears and allowing it too fall from his neck through the safety of tiny, meticulously made circular chains. The other hand came up as well to shield his loosely closed eyes from the fiery light of the flame, giving it a moment's rest before opening it again.

His vision was rather blurred when he opened his eyes, and the constant glare of the oil lamp strained one side of his eyesight. Across the table, behind all the stacked text books and encyclopedias, quietly laid a single photograph graced in a dark mahogany frame. From the tiring act of reading scientific terms with less-than-perfect understanding and accuracy, the momentary rest he had just by staring at the picture seemed to be the only peaceful thing that has ever happened to him.

Brown eyes remained focused on the framed photo, a tiny hint of a smile threatening to escape one side of healthy, masculine lips. There were four people in the picture, and he recognized himself as the tall one who held the shoulders of two of the members of the small group. The four of them were standing on a ship's ledge, overlooking the sea, with the tiny hint of twilight just behind their shoulders.

A young, preteen boy was the shortest, and the man recognized the spikiness of the child's hair, the friendliness of his light-brown eyes and the unhesitant wideness of the smile he wore to grace the camera. The one next to him, though slightly taller, was of the same age. Like what he did with the former, he remembered the same ashen hue of that boy's hair, the same knowing gaze and that ever-so-playful smirk.

Yes, he remembered them, Gon and Killua. Constantly. He still wondered what could have become of those two. Ever since they left Killua behind, it was back to where they have started again. They went on their separate ways, each having his own worries, about his life, about the others. Gon probably was the most bothered right after their departure, being that he frequently worried about his white-haired friend's well being. Perhaps their time together had been too much of a memory to him, something he now can't erase. The doctor could only hope that he'll be all right.

And last, but most definitely not the least, his eyes now fully rested on the very face that has repeatedly tempted him to take his eyes away from his work, begging him to look at it instead. And to be honest, he had yielded to its call, many times. And yet with every glance, he still felt drawn in the beauty of those soulful, watery blue orbs. Constantly, he stares at his own hand in the picture that lay rested on the beautiful one's shoulder in a friendly yet protective hold, and he could all but have given everything just to be given a chance to touch him again. He missed him so, and it was a secret he had kept hidden after all those times.

He shook his head awake. There was no use brooding about that now. Over the months that he had suffered through studying when his mind completely refuses to think of anything else but him, he had learned that it wouldn't be healthy to keep on allowing himself to lose to such lovesick practices. One way or another, he had to get his mind off things.

He had always wondered why the other never called. The first few months, there never was a day that he let pass without trying to contact the other somehow. But despite his efforts, his attempts were never given back, and all that meets him every time he gets home was an empty cellphone screen.

He stood up. Again, brooding is not a healthy habit. Deciding that he's had enough distractions for one night, he grabbed his coat from the neatly fixed bed and strode off to go out the door.

* * * * *

A thousand prayers to a deaf heaven, still I find myself falling.

Sweet memories, bring me comfort, for the whiteness of the falling snow only reminds me of the bitter cold.

I look up at the sky. I think of you. Damn heaven for its mocking ironies. You're the last blessing I had before darkness engulfed me whole.

In coldness, I suffered. And in coldness, I fell.

* * * * *

He didn't know where he was going. He never wandered this far from the hotel before, and the chilling cold was starting to get to him. Despite the thickness of his coat and gloves, the night was still cruel enough to bring him a shiver. He rubbed his arms to get the cold away.

He looked around. The bald trees that lined the sidewalk stood steadfast despite the coldness, their dark branches lighted only by the dim glow from the streetlamps. The place was a part of the rarely populated outskirts of the city, and the scarcity of people is made known mainly by the silence.

But he wasn't given much chance to appreciate the peace. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of a dark figure lying on the snow, the pitch-black cloak vividly visible from the whiteness of the snow. He found the steady beating of his heart quickly changing, the momentary slow pace now replaced by a maddened rhythm. Dark brown eyes widened, a look of pure fear and worry, and he found himself in a sprint, trying to reach the fallen body.

"Are you all right?" came his frantic question. He shoved away the snow from the dark cloak. The coldness forgotten, he took a gentle yet strong hold of the fainted body, marveling at the delicate weakness that it emitted. But awe was then replaced by fear, for again, his heart did that maddening beat again.

It's as if you're trying to tell me something...

It wasn't anymore the snow that brought up the chill. The familiar tinkle of what reminded him of metal chains coming together did not escape his ears. A horrifying sense of dread overcame him all of a sudden, and the immediate movement made by his hand to take away the hood from the person's face seemed to be out of intuition.

Like the warning beat of a distant drum, you climax to something as dreadful as this.

"Kurapika!"

* * * * *

I never imagined hearing your voice in death...

* * * * *

"Raindrops."

Brown eyes lifted from the water bowl to the lithe figure rested in the safety of his blanket and pillows. A relieved sigh escaped him then, and if one would only look closely, those supposedly dark, male eyes began to water in the intensity of that relief. He would've jumped up to the younger man on the bed if not for the latter's condition.

Instead of relieving himself through the needed physical touch, he opted for a more gentle, considerate welcome. He gazed at the half-open eyes that were now looking up at him with lost recognition. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was all right.

"Raindrops?" the doctor inquired, a tender smile on his face.

Innocent blue eyes closed again, and the younger one's head shifted slowly on the pillow. He opened his eyes later on to look around, only to stop his gaze to rest on the white, snow-covered glass window. "I thought," he whispered. "That the sounds you make with the water were raindrops," he said. He paused, lowering his head, almost a bit sadly. "I've...prayed for winter to stop. I thought that maybe what I heard was the mild showers of spring."

Silence enveloped them both, neither knowing what else to say. Eventually, the silence was replaced by the gentle trickling of the water again. Blue eyes remained hidden, even as the warm towel was placed on his forehead to at least give him a moment's warmth. But the young man marveled at the grave comfort he felt when he felt the other's skin touch his. Despite the vagueness of his mind and senses, he knew that there was only one person who can elicit such a peaceful feeling in him.

"Leorio?" he called, gracing the other with his warm, child-like gaze. His voice was ever so gentle, the first angelic sound that the other heard for such a long while. "Why am I here?"

The other smiled, hearing his name uttered by that melodious voice, seeing those familiar eyes. "I found you," he said, still keeping his distance. Perhaps the other needed his personal space, just so he can cope up with his current surroundings.

For a moment, they were engaged in a staring game. But it was the younger one who broke the contact. "I thought I was going to die back there," he said, his eyes drifting off to the window again.

Leorio frowned at the very thought. Various worries ran through his mind. What if he hadn't been there? What if he hadn't seen him? If he hadn't listened to his own instinct, was it possible for this beautiful angel with him to really could've died?

He shook his head. "No, it was meant to happen," he said all of a sudden, earning him the young man's attention. "I came for you, because I thought I heard you calling me."

Silence. A look of what seemed to be a mixture of confusion, relief, gratitude and more, crossed the young Kuruta's face. He had to bite down his lip to cease its trembling, and for the first time in many months, his eyes softened.

He returned the other's smile. "You heard?"

That was all the encouragement the other needed to finally give in to his body and mind's pleas. One step was all it took for him to pull Kurapika's weak body to himself, the smaller one's fever intensifying the warmth that he felt with the desperate contact. A blissful sigh escaped him, and he was reminded of how much he had missed him.

The cloth that rested on his head had fallen, but that was but a minor worry for him now. He was overwhelmed by an unspeakable amount of peace that he noticed his breathing quicken just by the sheer greatness of his own emotions. Though still rather weak, he summoned up all his strength to hold on to the stronger body that held his, tightening the bond.

"Are you done with your mission? Are you content now?" Leorio asked, his cheek buried in the softness of the other one's hair.

"I...don't know," came Kurapika's soft reply. "I'm not even sure if it's really over. But still...I'm content."

Because I realized that my true mission after all was to find you.

"Leorio...I want to stay with you."

If only it was possible, their hug tightened even more. Kurapika felt the softness of the other's hand caress his hair, gentle fingers running through the smoothness of his mane. He waited for the answer, his arms still insistently holding the warm body to himself, as if it alone would be enough.

Leorio's answer was still as kind as he remembered it to be. "Then stay."

The young Kuruta then found himself being laid gently on the bed again, his head rested on the soft pillow. The small cloth that fell from him a moment ago was now renewed, and it was placed above his brows again, soothing him. No more words were needed to be spoken, but still, before slumber finally takes him, he wanted all his thoughts to be out. "I miss Gon and Killua."

Leorio held his cold hands tightly in his own. "I can call Gon tomorrow if you want me to," he offered, warming Kurapika's hand with his hold.

"And Killua?"

"It's not going to be easy, but we'll try," he assured.

A small smile graced the younger one's lips again. He can feel sleep coming soon. He took a calming breath, never strained anymore unlike before. And as he continuously felt the warmth of the other's hand around his, he made a silent prayer.

Maybe heaven really listens.

End of Epilogue (part I)

A/N:
One more to go and this fanfic is ALL done! *heaves relieved sigh* I can't believe I actually finished this thing! ^0^ Anyway, in response to what's been happening in my...er, reviews, here's a few replies:

Kathleen – I'm very sorry if I offended you in any way. But I believe that I've put in the proper warnings and notes in every chapter of this fanfic, keeping in mind that one way or another, somebody's not going to agree with my views. Thus, I hold no guilt regarding any physical/emotion/psychological sickness my works might give to others. I work to please, but I can't please everyone at the same time and still do the things I like to do (mind you, I'm not implying that I like doing lemons *sweatdrops again*, but I won't elaborate). Allow me to apologize though. But next time, if you see me saying "to those who don't like the idea of [insert pair here], please turn back now", heed my words and do us both a favor, okay? I hope this would be the last time I'm going to receive such comments about my preference. I accept criticisms about my writing, but please not my opinions/views. But in any case, you said that I write just fine. Er, at least, I should thank you for that, so thank you ^^
Yomi-san – I really appreciate you defending me back there. Thank you also for saying the necessary things I should've said myself *sweatdrops*. Please allow me to thank you. Again, I really appreciate it.

To everyone who reads still, thank you for your patience ^^;

- Cherrie
http://www.geocities.com/kurapikasama
http://www.geocities.com/leorio_hxh_dreams