Author's Notes: This chapter... tried to be longer. Really, it did. But to be honest, I tried to add an extra scene, and it fought me tooth and nail. Eventually, it was bad enough that I just took it out and left it the way it is now. Anyway, I think I like the ending point a little bit better, this way. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing... it's nice to know that someone's taking the time read. ^_^
Warnings? Angst. Yaoi. Hisoka-torture. Me trying to write Muraki (yes, that warrants a warning all its own).
Annnnd, you're welcome to it!
===============
The Rest of Forever
===============
Chapter 5
===============
It was an upscale place; that much was obvious even from the hallway. Thickly carpeted, the corridor stretched past rows of heavy oaken doors, each graced with a bronze number. Little electric wall lanterns clung to the tasteful wallpaper at the right of each room. And leaned up against the wall beside one door in particular, a certain violet-eyed shinigami tried to keep himself from worry and boredom.
It was, he was discovering rapidly, a hopeless endeavor.
On the other side of the wall, Watari was busy searching for any information that could be used. But he'd been gone far too long already by Tsuzuki's standards, and though the man trusted his friend, he would rather have taken the matter of his partner's safety into his own hands.
Minutes stretched, much longer in seeming than in actuality, and the violet-eyed shinigami struggled to keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand. The cheerful blonde currently in the apartment would find everything that there was to find, after all; Watari was good at discovering things that needed answers.
And so Tsuzuki waited, a restless and uneasy lookout, telling himself that there was no need to worry. No need to worry, because they'd have his partner back soon, and everything would be fine.
Gods, the man prayed silently, just let him be all right.
Tsuzuki's eyes slipped closed as the despair he'd been holding back welled up inside, and suddenly the weight of all the dread and unknowing anxiety was too much. Helplessly, the shinigami tipped his head back to rest against the wall, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts.
Of course it wouldn't be fine. Nothing would be anything short of a disaster. He was with Muraki, and there was no telling what that bastard was doing to him. Hadn't Hisoka suffered enough? His whole life had been nothing but pain and betrayal; didn't he deserve peace after death? And more importantly-- why was it that he could never manage to protect the boy when he needed it most?
Unconsciously, the violet-eyed shinigami clenched slender fingers into a white-knuckled fist, trembling with the force of his emotions. It was unbearable to know that his partner was out of reach-- alone with the man that had murdered him, and the only help he'd managed to--
Footsteps that the man hadn't even heard came to a stop in front of the door, the words that accompanied them shattering any thought.
"Tsuzuki-san," said a familiar voice, calm and pleasantly surprised. "Have you come to pay me a visit?"
* * *
It was inexcusable.
In Tatsumi's estimation, no business-related materials had any excuse to be anything but precisely kept-- but the sheaves of folded and poorly-arranged documents in the manila folder on his desk were a minor disaster.
Honestly, even if Tsuzuki had managed to get hold of the files, it would only stand to reason that his partner would have set them right. Kurosaki-kun could be relied on, after all; for all the boy's prickly exterior, he had an affinity for organization that the JuOhCho's secretary appreciated.
But thoughts of the young shinigami brought the same question wandering back into Tatsumi's thoughts, where he'd banished it only moments before: where was the boy? And with the first question, of course, others flooded in demanding answers. Would Tsuzuki be safe looking for him? Could Watari manage to take on the self-professed role of guardian, or-- and this was the one that made the secretary shudder with dread-- would the overly-enthusiastic scientist doom them from the start?
With a quiet sigh he closed his eyes, trying to force his mind back into focus. He'd made the decision, after all; he'd chosen what he thought best for Tsuzuki. Or rather, what he thought the man wanted most. It was only fair, the secretary schooled himself, that he live up to the resolution and dedicate himself fully to the task. The case needed to be solved, after all. And two shinigamis ought to be able to take care of themselves, irresponsible though the pair was.
Opening tired eyes once more, Tatsumi turned back to the task at hand, adjusting his glasses so that he could peer more closely at the tiny writing.
There was startlingly little information on the subject, and even less of it of any use. The few infrequent address changes, a sheet that tracked Arai-san's short and rather uneventful career, a medical history that consisted of the recommended once-a-year check-up...
Frowning, Tatsumi paused in the midst of his scan of the page, gaze catching on the date at the bottom of the last page of the medical records. Blue eyes narrowed, the man flipped the page to search for the rest of the data, suspicion flaring when he found only blank paper.
Expression thoughtful, the man reached for the rest of the information, straightening it into manageable piles before beginning to leaf through it. For the moment, worries about his co-workers had fled, leaving Tatsumi with another seemingly unanswerable question: what could have caused a seven-year gap in the records?
* * *
For a moment, the words staggered around in his mind without a person to place them to, alarmingly unexpected. And then the voice set off a glint of recognition, and Tsuzuki's eyes snapped open, violet depths burning with anger.
"Muraki," the shinigami growled, moving from his relaxed position against the wall in order to confront the man. "What did you do to him?"
"Him?" For a moment, the doctor feigned innocence, a slight smile playing across pale lips as he cocked his head consideringly to the side. "Oh-- do you mean the boy?"
Tsuzuki's hands moved almost without conscious thought, reaching to grab fistfuls of white fabric. "Stop fucking around." It was a savage command, and the man's voice was trembling with rage. "Where's Hisoka?"
A quiet chuckle greeted the words, low and amused. "Now, now, Tsuzuki-san... there's no need to be rude." Reaching forward to detach the insistent fists clutching at his collar, the doctor shook his head disapprovingly. "And you needn't worry about the boy. He's in a place where you won't have think about him any longer."
"Where I won't have to -think- about him?" the violet-eyed shinigami hissed, lips pulled back in a snarl. "If you believe even for a -second- that I'm just going to give up and let you do whatever you want--"
"It seems to be working," Muraki commented mildly, gently prying the fingers from his clothing. "You're here to see me, after all... aren't you?" Watching the other man sputter, the doctor smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his coat, peering disdainfully at a spot of red on his sleeve. "Why don't we go inside?" he suggested. "I ought to tidy up-- I can never seem to stay clean when I get involved with my work."
Tsuzuki swallowed convulsively against the horror bottoming out in his stomach, following the doctor's unnaturally pale gaze to the blood staining the end of his sleeve. Mouth dry, he could only watch as Muraki reached for the door handle, only stare on in apprehension as he began to turn the brass knob.
Just in time, common sense kicked in. "Wait!"
The man turned to regard him with an expression that was vaguely amused, curiosity showing in the depths of one eye. "Was there something you wanted, Tsuzuki-san?"
Firmly ignoring the implications of that statement, the violet-eyed shinigami shook his head almost violently. "All I want from you is my partner back!" Raising his voice and hoping that the doctor would attribute it to mounting anger, Tsuzuki could only hope that the scientist behind the closed door could hear what he was saying. "Can't you leave us alone? Haven't you done -enough-?"
"It would seem that I hadn't. After all, you turned from me no matter what I tried." Tipping his head to one side, Muraki allowed a little smile to creep onto his face. "But always before, I was trying to kill the boy. So rest assured, Tsuzuki-san-- I'll leave him well alive."
"Bastard," the shinigami growled, slamming the wall beside the man in a fit of real anger. "If you hurt him, I swear by all the gods, I'll--"
"Ah," the doctor interrupted, tone reasonable. "But don't you see, this way you have nothing to worry about beyond what's already happened. You'll search, but I'm afraid that I've managed to block your messenger creatures." Muraki's hand was on the doorknob again, turning it and pushing it inward. "You can't hold his loss against me, since he isn't truly gone-- and as they say, 'Time heals all wounds.'"
For a moment, Tsuzuki was too frozen with terror to react, staring as he was over the man's shoulder and into the darkened room beyond.
"Tsuzuki-san?" The deep voice was politely inquiring. "Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?"
Violet eyes trailed carefully across the room in one direction, and then back. Empty. Satisfied that Watari had managed to slip out in time, the shinigami fixed Muraki with a glare. "Go to hell."
Jerking himself away from the frighteningly tender icy stare, Tsuzuki turned down the hallway. He had a partner to rescue.
~end part 5~
Warnings? Angst. Yaoi. Hisoka-torture. Me trying to write Muraki (yes, that warrants a warning all its own).
Annnnd, you're welcome to it!
===============
The Rest of Forever
===============
Chapter 5
===============
It was an upscale place; that much was obvious even from the hallway. Thickly carpeted, the corridor stretched past rows of heavy oaken doors, each graced with a bronze number. Little electric wall lanterns clung to the tasteful wallpaper at the right of each room. And leaned up against the wall beside one door in particular, a certain violet-eyed shinigami tried to keep himself from worry and boredom.
It was, he was discovering rapidly, a hopeless endeavor.
On the other side of the wall, Watari was busy searching for any information that could be used. But he'd been gone far too long already by Tsuzuki's standards, and though the man trusted his friend, he would rather have taken the matter of his partner's safety into his own hands.
Minutes stretched, much longer in seeming than in actuality, and the violet-eyed shinigami struggled to keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand. The cheerful blonde currently in the apartment would find everything that there was to find, after all; Watari was good at discovering things that needed answers.
And so Tsuzuki waited, a restless and uneasy lookout, telling himself that there was no need to worry. No need to worry, because they'd have his partner back soon, and everything would be fine.
Gods, the man prayed silently, just let him be all right.
Tsuzuki's eyes slipped closed as the despair he'd been holding back welled up inside, and suddenly the weight of all the dread and unknowing anxiety was too much. Helplessly, the shinigami tipped his head back to rest against the wall, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts.
Of course it wouldn't be fine. Nothing would be anything short of a disaster. He was with Muraki, and there was no telling what that bastard was doing to him. Hadn't Hisoka suffered enough? His whole life had been nothing but pain and betrayal; didn't he deserve peace after death? And more importantly-- why was it that he could never manage to protect the boy when he needed it most?
Unconsciously, the violet-eyed shinigami clenched slender fingers into a white-knuckled fist, trembling with the force of his emotions. It was unbearable to know that his partner was out of reach-- alone with the man that had murdered him, and the only help he'd managed to--
Footsteps that the man hadn't even heard came to a stop in front of the door, the words that accompanied them shattering any thought.
"Tsuzuki-san," said a familiar voice, calm and pleasantly surprised. "Have you come to pay me a visit?"
* * *
It was inexcusable.
In Tatsumi's estimation, no business-related materials had any excuse to be anything but precisely kept-- but the sheaves of folded and poorly-arranged documents in the manila folder on his desk were a minor disaster.
Honestly, even if Tsuzuki had managed to get hold of the files, it would only stand to reason that his partner would have set them right. Kurosaki-kun could be relied on, after all; for all the boy's prickly exterior, he had an affinity for organization that the JuOhCho's secretary appreciated.
But thoughts of the young shinigami brought the same question wandering back into Tatsumi's thoughts, where he'd banished it only moments before: where was the boy? And with the first question, of course, others flooded in demanding answers. Would Tsuzuki be safe looking for him? Could Watari manage to take on the self-professed role of guardian, or-- and this was the one that made the secretary shudder with dread-- would the overly-enthusiastic scientist doom them from the start?
With a quiet sigh he closed his eyes, trying to force his mind back into focus. He'd made the decision, after all; he'd chosen what he thought best for Tsuzuki. Or rather, what he thought the man wanted most. It was only fair, the secretary schooled himself, that he live up to the resolution and dedicate himself fully to the task. The case needed to be solved, after all. And two shinigamis ought to be able to take care of themselves, irresponsible though the pair was.
Opening tired eyes once more, Tatsumi turned back to the task at hand, adjusting his glasses so that he could peer more closely at the tiny writing.
There was startlingly little information on the subject, and even less of it of any use. The few infrequent address changes, a sheet that tracked Arai-san's short and rather uneventful career, a medical history that consisted of the recommended once-a-year check-up...
Frowning, Tatsumi paused in the midst of his scan of the page, gaze catching on the date at the bottom of the last page of the medical records. Blue eyes narrowed, the man flipped the page to search for the rest of the data, suspicion flaring when he found only blank paper.
Expression thoughtful, the man reached for the rest of the information, straightening it into manageable piles before beginning to leaf through it. For the moment, worries about his co-workers had fled, leaving Tatsumi with another seemingly unanswerable question: what could have caused a seven-year gap in the records?
* * *
For a moment, the words staggered around in his mind without a person to place them to, alarmingly unexpected. And then the voice set off a glint of recognition, and Tsuzuki's eyes snapped open, violet depths burning with anger.
"Muraki," the shinigami growled, moving from his relaxed position against the wall in order to confront the man. "What did you do to him?"
"Him?" For a moment, the doctor feigned innocence, a slight smile playing across pale lips as he cocked his head consideringly to the side. "Oh-- do you mean the boy?"
Tsuzuki's hands moved almost without conscious thought, reaching to grab fistfuls of white fabric. "Stop fucking around." It was a savage command, and the man's voice was trembling with rage. "Where's Hisoka?"
A quiet chuckle greeted the words, low and amused. "Now, now, Tsuzuki-san... there's no need to be rude." Reaching forward to detach the insistent fists clutching at his collar, the doctor shook his head disapprovingly. "And you needn't worry about the boy. He's in a place where you won't have think about him any longer."
"Where I won't have to -think- about him?" the violet-eyed shinigami hissed, lips pulled back in a snarl. "If you believe even for a -second- that I'm just going to give up and let you do whatever you want--"
"It seems to be working," Muraki commented mildly, gently prying the fingers from his clothing. "You're here to see me, after all... aren't you?" Watching the other man sputter, the doctor smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his coat, peering disdainfully at a spot of red on his sleeve. "Why don't we go inside?" he suggested. "I ought to tidy up-- I can never seem to stay clean when I get involved with my work."
Tsuzuki swallowed convulsively against the horror bottoming out in his stomach, following the doctor's unnaturally pale gaze to the blood staining the end of his sleeve. Mouth dry, he could only watch as Muraki reached for the door handle, only stare on in apprehension as he began to turn the brass knob.
Just in time, common sense kicked in. "Wait!"
The man turned to regard him with an expression that was vaguely amused, curiosity showing in the depths of one eye. "Was there something you wanted, Tsuzuki-san?"
Firmly ignoring the implications of that statement, the violet-eyed shinigami shook his head almost violently. "All I want from you is my partner back!" Raising his voice and hoping that the doctor would attribute it to mounting anger, Tsuzuki could only hope that the scientist behind the closed door could hear what he was saying. "Can't you leave us alone? Haven't you done -enough-?"
"It would seem that I hadn't. After all, you turned from me no matter what I tried." Tipping his head to one side, Muraki allowed a little smile to creep onto his face. "But always before, I was trying to kill the boy. So rest assured, Tsuzuki-san-- I'll leave him well alive."
"Bastard," the shinigami growled, slamming the wall beside the man in a fit of real anger. "If you hurt him, I swear by all the gods, I'll--"
"Ah," the doctor interrupted, tone reasonable. "But don't you see, this way you have nothing to worry about beyond what's already happened. You'll search, but I'm afraid that I've managed to block your messenger creatures." Muraki's hand was on the doorknob again, turning it and pushing it inward. "You can't hold his loss against me, since he isn't truly gone-- and as they say, 'Time heals all wounds.'"
For a moment, Tsuzuki was too frozen with terror to react, staring as he was over the man's shoulder and into the darkened room beyond.
"Tsuzuki-san?" The deep voice was politely inquiring. "Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?"
Violet eyes trailed carefully across the room in one direction, and then back. Empty. Satisfied that Watari had managed to slip out in time, the shinigami fixed Muraki with a glare. "Go to hell."
Jerking himself away from the frighteningly tender icy stare, Tsuzuki turned down the hallway. He had a partner to rescue.
~end part 5~