Author's Notes: Last scene is heavily edited, because it sucked so badly. I just -couldn't- pretend I was happy with it. Now, hopefully, I can start part 7. ^_^
Warnings? Angst. Yaoi. Hisoka-torture.
Emjoy! ^_^
===============
The Rest of Forever
===============
Chapter 6
===============
The silence of the room was broken by the satisfying sound of a thick stack of paper hitting the desk; over the top of it, two men grinned triumphantly at one another.
"The good doctor's never gonna live this down," Watari announced, golden eyes alight with excitement. "Swiped his stuff while he was chatting it up in the hall."
"What did you do, take everything paper?" Eying the impressive stack of documents, Tsuzuki reflected that, had it been case work, it would have been a terrifying load. But it was to find his partner. It was for Hisoka, and if that involved wading through every file in Meifu, then the violet-eyed shinigami would do it without complaint.
The scientist shrugged, considering his plunder with an appraising eye. "I had to grab a few handfuls and get out quick," he admitted. "But I think I got everything that looked promising." Watching as his friend settled down to work, Watari helped himself to the one folder that had come from the hospital. He jabbed a finger at it, gesturing to the door with a brief toss of his head. "I'll bring this over to Tatsumi for you, and be back in a sec. Good luck!"
And with that, the cheerful blonde vacated the room, leaving Tsuzuki alone with his hopes and fears.
* * *
He had to have missed something.
Two days without sleep had left the violet-eyed shinigami ink-stained and weary, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to catch the one vital piece of information that he was sure he hadn't seen. Because there had to be something. Somewhere in the stack of papers, there had to be some clue. If he just looked hard enough, then...
"Tsuzuki." It was Tatsumi's voice. The secretary's tone was calm-- reassuring, even-- but as exhausted as he felt. "You need to get some sleep."
"Don't wanna," the older shinigami mumbled. The way he was sitting, arm stretched out on the desk in front of him and mouth pressed against it, muffled the words considerably. "Have to find Hisoka."
"You aren't doing Kurosaki-kun any good like this." Admirably, the secretary ignored the misery that his ex-partner's expression radiated, pushing on to make his point under the stare of a wounded puppy gaze. "You can hardly keep your eyes open; how are you supposed to find anything new if you can't concentrate?"
For a long time, Tsuzuki didn't answer, eyes fixed instead on the rows of tiny print that he was beginning to learn by heart.
"Watari made up a bed for you in the infirmary," Tatsumi persuaded. "That way, you can sleep a few doors down and come right back when you wake up."
Exhausted violet eyes lifted reluctantly from the paper before them, turning instead to the secretary that stood just beside him. "Promise?"
Struck by how young the man seemed at just that moment-- rumpled hair and smudged face conspired to make him seem a child awake past its bedtime-- Tatsumi moved to help his friend stand. "Promise."
* * *
The drip of water onto metal rang through the room, a slow and rhythmic constant. It might have been soothing, had the boy been able to focus on it-- but the sound was almost lost under the rasp of his own breathing, and the drumming of rain on the roof brought back too many memories.
In some ways, it was a small stroke of luck. His throat had ached, raw from screaming, until at last his scattered thoughts managed to direct him to the little puddle formed by the leak. And though even breathing had begun to hurt, and Hisoka's thoughts had strayed more than once to the possibility of a shinigami starving to death, the boy was spared at least from going four days without water.
Caught in a state of semi-consciousness, the boy's mind wandered in an attempt to shut out the pain and hunger and biting, numbing chill. Again and again, however, the image that swam to the front of fevered recollections was a pair of laughing violet eyes, and Hisoka's thoughts drifted to the warm touch of gentle hands.
For all the times his partner had done everything in his power to drag the boy out to eat, Hisoka never thought he'd find himself wishing for just that. Eyes half-lidded, the young shinigami stared blankly into the empty room as his mind tried to conjure the pleading tone that the older man would doubtless have used. It took longer than it should have, but the reward was well-worth it. If he could just manage to block out his own body and the world around him, it would be almost as though Tsuzuki had come to save him.
Lost in the misty half-images of memory, Hisoka let the darkness that hovered just beyond reach close slowly in.
* * *
In the gleaming white of the Ju-Oh-Cho's infirmary, a blonde in a lab coat and a secretary in a suit stood staring down at the sleeping figure in the room's only bed.
"How'd you get him to leave?" Watari whispered, tone cautiously aware of the fact that this particular nap was nothing short of a miracle.
Tatsumi's voice was equally hushed. "I told him he wasn't doing any good." For a moment, the man hesitated, about to say something more. Instead, he settled for: "We should let him sleep."
A careful nod greeted the suggestion, and a moment later, two sets of quiet footsteps found their way from the room. Only when the door had clicked softly closed behind them and the pair had moved a good distance from the room did Watari dare to break the newly formed silence.
"He didn't mention going out again, did he?" Under the light tone of the words, there was worry that the blonde was clearly unused to disguising.
His co-worker took a long time to speak, considering the words carefully. "No," the man said at last. "But I'm not sure that's a good sign."
Watari paused, digesting the response before he hazarded the next question. "So... what happens when he gets his next assignment?" Long fingers twisted the hem of his lab coat nervously upward and then unrolled it once more.
There was no hesitation in the reply. "I'll take it."
Startled golden eyes widened fractionally, and though the scientist's tone was casual, his expression was a mixture of worry and admiration. "You'll get behind on your own work, you know," he remarked, almost off-handed.
"It doesn't matter." Tatsumi's voice was much sharper than he'd intended, hissed with the force of the words. In a rare, straightforward moment, the man said exactly what was on his mind. "They shouldn't have gotten that case. If I'd just done some preliminary background work, then they never would have--"
"Hey," the blonde shinigami interrupted. "Hey, calm down. Without a death date, you'd have been as clueless as the rest of us. Muraki works in a private hospital, after all-- those kind of records are hard to come by."
"She'd been dead for seven years," Tatsumi said, bluntly. "I would have been able to find something."
Watari watched him for the space of several heartbeats, peering over the rim of his glasses to study the secretary's expression closely. "Don't beat yourself up over it," was what he offered at last.
The troubled blue eyes didn't even raise to acknowledge him.
Fighting down a sigh, the scientist clapped a friendly hand on the other man's shoulder and offered the only advice that he thought would do good. "Go on and go back to work," he suggested. "Getting behind won't help anything, and I can keep an eye on Tsuzuki."
The expression was one of mixed hesitancy and careful thought. "What about Kurosaki-kun?"
A slender hand waved back and forth, dismissing the objection. "I can keep looking for bon and teleport back every half-hour or so to make sure Tsuzuki's still sleeping."
The reluctance in the secretary's words still dripped skepticism. "And if there's trouble?"
"I'll come right back here," Watari informed him cheerfully.
For a time, there was silence as Tatsumi turned the new change of plans over in his mind, searching it for possible objections. "...fine," he conceded at last.
"It'll be alright," the scientist told his co-worker confidently. "Trust me," Blissfully unaware of the apprehension that particular statement evoked, he turned to leave without another word.
* * *
Somewhere, it was dark. Dim and fuzzy, as though it came from far away, but dark all the same.
Everything hurt if he thought about it too hard, and there was a constant ache of hunger, even when he didn't.
He was cold, and lonely, and somewhere the rain was making a drip drip drip against metal. It was strange, that he hadn't come yet. Stranger still that it bothered him-- though if he'd let himself listen to the little voice screaming for someone, anyone to help him, he would have understood exactly how weak he'd become.
/ohgodsohgodswhyhasn'thecomeyet/
That was the problem, after all. He'd gotten used to it--become accustomed to food and warmth and kindness. Allowed someone to chip away at the walls around his heart, and now that he needed them, all he had left was the terrified voice of a child, whimpering over and over in his mind for someone to save it.
/pleasedon'tleavemehere/
He ignored it.
/pleaseIloveyoudon'tleavemeliketheydid/
Because it was when he listened to it that he couldn't stop from crying...
Consciousness tore back into him with a cry and a gasp, and Tsuzuki found himself sitting sharp upright in a bed of Ju-Oh-Cho's infirmary. His thoughts came to awareness more slowly; it was several minutes before he could force down the lingering residue of mental anguish.
"Gods," the man whispered to himself. "What a nightmare."
Worse, though, was the knowledge that it -could- be real. That, even now, Hisoka could be desperately in need of safety and a gentle touch. That Muraki could be doing whatever he -wanted-, that bastard.
Grinding his teeth, the violet-eyed shinigami threw back the covers abruptly and stood.
To hell with the promise that he'd made Tatsumi-- Muraki was getting whatever he wanted. Because anything he asked for would be worth it, to keep his partner safe.
~end part 6~
Warnings? Angst. Yaoi. Hisoka-torture.
Emjoy! ^_^
===============
The Rest of Forever
===============
Chapter 6
===============
The silence of the room was broken by the satisfying sound of a thick stack of paper hitting the desk; over the top of it, two men grinned triumphantly at one another.
"The good doctor's never gonna live this down," Watari announced, golden eyes alight with excitement. "Swiped his stuff while he was chatting it up in the hall."
"What did you do, take everything paper?" Eying the impressive stack of documents, Tsuzuki reflected that, had it been case work, it would have been a terrifying load. But it was to find his partner. It was for Hisoka, and if that involved wading through every file in Meifu, then the violet-eyed shinigami would do it without complaint.
The scientist shrugged, considering his plunder with an appraising eye. "I had to grab a few handfuls and get out quick," he admitted. "But I think I got everything that looked promising." Watching as his friend settled down to work, Watari helped himself to the one folder that had come from the hospital. He jabbed a finger at it, gesturing to the door with a brief toss of his head. "I'll bring this over to Tatsumi for you, and be back in a sec. Good luck!"
And with that, the cheerful blonde vacated the room, leaving Tsuzuki alone with his hopes and fears.
* * *
He had to have missed something.
Two days without sleep had left the violet-eyed shinigami ink-stained and weary, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to catch the one vital piece of information that he was sure he hadn't seen. Because there had to be something. Somewhere in the stack of papers, there had to be some clue. If he just looked hard enough, then...
"Tsuzuki." It was Tatsumi's voice. The secretary's tone was calm-- reassuring, even-- but as exhausted as he felt. "You need to get some sleep."
"Don't wanna," the older shinigami mumbled. The way he was sitting, arm stretched out on the desk in front of him and mouth pressed against it, muffled the words considerably. "Have to find Hisoka."
"You aren't doing Kurosaki-kun any good like this." Admirably, the secretary ignored the misery that his ex-partner's expression radiated, pushing on to make his point under the stare of a wounded puppy gaze. "You can hardly keep your eyes open; how are you supposed to find anything new if you can't concentrate?"
For a long time, Tsuzuki didn't answer, eyes fixed instead on the rows of tiny print that he was beginning to learn by heart.
"Watari made up a bed for you in the infirmary," Tatsumi persuaded. "That way, you can sleep a few doors down and come right back when you wake up."
Exhausted violet eyes lifted reluctantly from the paper before them, turning instead to the secretary that stood just beside him. "Promise?"
Struck by how young the man seemed at just that moment-- rumpled hair and smudged face conspired to make him seem a child awake past its bedtime-- Tatsumi moved to help his friend stand. "Promise."
* * *
The drip of water onto metal rang through the room, a slow and rhythmic constant. It might have been soothing, had the boy been able to focus on it-- but the sound was almost lost under the rasp of his own breathing, and the drumming of rain on the roof brought back too many memories.
In some ways, it was a small stroke of luck. His throat had ached, raw from screaming, until at last his scattered thoughts managed to direct him to the little puddle formed by the leak. And though even breathing had begun to hurt, and Hisoka's thoughts had strayed more than once to the possibility of a shinigami starving to death, the boy was spared at least from going four days without water.
Caught in a state of semi-consciousness, the boy's mind wandered in an attempt to shut out the pain and hunger and biting, numbing chill. Again and again, however, the image that swam to the front of fevered recollections was a pair of laughing violet eyes, and Hisoka's thoughts drifted to the warm touch of gentle hands.
For all the times his partner had done everything in his power to drag the boy out to eat, Hisoka never thought he'd find himself wishing for just that. Eyes half-lidded, the young shinigami stared blankly into the empty room as his mind tried to conjure the pleading tone that the older man would doubtless have used. It took longer than it should have, but the reward was well-worth it. If he could just manage to block out his own body and the world around him, it would be almost as though Tsuzuki had come to save him.
Lost in the misty half-images of memory, Hisoka let the darkness that hovered just beyond reach close slowly in.
* * *
In the gleaming white of the Ju-Oh-Cho's infirmary, a blonde in a lab coat and a secretary in a suit stood staring down at the sleeping figure in the room's only bed.
"How'd you get him to leave?" Watari whispered, tone cautiously aware of the fact that this particular nap was nothing short of a miracle.
Tatsumi's voice was equally hushed. "I told him he wasn't doing any good." For a moment, the man hesitated, about to say something more. Instead, he settled for: "We should let him sleep."
A careful nod greeted the suggestion, and a moment later, two sets of quiet footsteps found their way from the room. Only when the door had clicked softly closed behind them and the pair had moved a good distance from the room did Watari dare to break the newly formed silence.
"He didn't mention going out again, did he?" Under the light tone of the words, there was worry that the blonde was clearly unused to disguising.
His co-worker took a long time to speak, considering the words carefully. "No," the man said at last. "But I'm not sure that's a good sign."
Watari paused, digesting the response before he hazarded the next question. "So... what happens when he gets his next assignment?" Long fingers twisted the hem of his lab coat nervously upward and then unrolled it once more.
There was no hesitation in the reply. "I'll take it."
Startled golden eyes widened fractionally, and though the scientist's tone was casual, his expression was a mixture of worry and admiration. "You'll get behind on your own work, you know," he remarked, almost off-handed.
"It doesn't matter." Tatsumi's voice was much sharper than he'd intended, hissed with the force of the words. In a rare, straightforward moment, the man said exactly what was on his mind. "They shouldn't have gotten that case. If I'd just done some preliminary background work, then they never would have--"
"Hey," the blonde shinigami interrupted. "Hey, calm down. Without a death date, you'd have been as clueless as the rest of us. Muraki works in a private hospital, after all-- those kind of records are hard to come by."
"She'd been dead for seven years," Tatsumi said, bluntly. "I would have been able to find something."
Watari watched him for the space of several heartbeats, peering over the rim of his glasses to study the secretary's expression closely. "Don't beat yourself up over it," was what he offered at last.
The troubled blue eyes didn't even raise to acknowledge him.
Fighting down a sigh, the scientist clapped a friendly hand on the other man's shoulder and offered the only advice that he thought would do good. "Go on and go back to work," he suggested. "Getting behind won't help anything, and I can keep an eye on Tsuzuki."
The expression was one of mixed hesitancy and careful thought. "What about Kurosaki-kun?"
A slender hand waved back and forth, dismissing the objection. "I can keep looking for bon and teleport back every half-hour or so to make sure Tsuzuki's still sleeping."
The reluctance in the secretary's words still dripped skepticism. "And if there's trouble?"
"I'll come right back here," Watari informed him cheerfully.
For a time, there was silence as Tatsumi turned the new change of plans over in his mind, searching it for possible objections. "...fine," he conceded at last.
"It'll be alright," the scientist told his co-worker confidently. "Trust me," Blissfully unaware of the apprehension that particular statement evoked, he turned to leave without another word.
* * *
Somewhere, it was dark. Dim and fuzzy, as though it came from far away, but dark all the same.
Everything hurt if he thought about it too hard, and there was a constant ache of hunger, even when he didn't.
He was cold, and lonely, and somewhere the rain was making a drip drip drip against metal. It was strange, that he hadn't come yet. Stranger still that it bothered him-- though if he'd let himself listen to the little voice screaming for someone, anyone to help him, he would have understood exactly how weak he'd become.
/ohgodsohgodswhyhasn'thecomeyet/
That was the problem, after all. He'd gotten used to it--become accustomed to food and warmth and kindness. Allowed someone to chip away at the walls around his heart, and now that he needed them, all he had left was the terrified voice of a child, whimpering over and over in his mind for someone to save it.
/pleasedon'tleavemehere/
He ignored it.
/pleaseIloveyoudon'tleavemeliketheydid/
Because it was when he listened to it that he couldn't stop from crying...
Consciousness tore back into him with a cry and a gasp, and Tsuzuki found himself sitting sharp upright in a bed of Ju-Oh-Cho's infirmary. His thoughts came to awareness more slowly; it was several minutes before he could force down the lingering residue of mental anguish.
"Gods," the man whispered to himself. "What a nightmare."
Worse, though, was the knowledge that it -could- be real. That, even now, Hisoka could be desperately in need of safety and a gentle touch. That Muraki could be doing whatever he -wanted-, that bastard.
Grinding his teeth, the violet-eyed shinigami threw back the covers abruptly and stood.
To hell with the promise that he'd made Tatsumi-- Muraki was getting whatever he wanted. Because anything he asked for would be worth it, to keep his partner safe.
~end part 6~