Disclaimer: If I had a hammer... I'd hammer in the morning... I'd hammer in
the evening... all over this laaaaand. And then I would hammer in the
heads of the guys who own this stuff and steal it from them. Which would
most likely make everyone but me very angry.. Hmmmm, actually I think
that's a bad plan. Anyway I don't own it regardless of what I would do
with a hammer. So enjoy anyway and know that I make no profit from this
except the ever expanding girth of my ego. MUWAHAHAHAHA!!
Comments: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! (To those that celebrate it anyway. ^_^) Sorry this took so long and that you all had to suffer with the cliffhanger, but I had finals week and then had to travel across the country and stuff, so it too two weeks. I would like to say that never in my life have I consecutively been called an evil bitch by so many. It made me feel warm and fuzzy, thanks guys I LOVE YOU TOO!!! No actually I do, because calling me an evil bitch means you care, and it's the thought that counts, right? Errr. or something. Anyway so here it is the follow up. So now you will all know whether or not I wasted Ran. I got mixed opinions from the people who actually deem me worthy of talking to online. Got a couple "I know you killed him, I know you did, you evil evil evil wench!!" but mostly teary-eyed pleading. MUWAHAHAHAHA!! Does your pleading pay off?? Read and find out. Now... would I -really- kill Ran?? Well the answer to that is actually yes, I really would, be whether I really -did- or not is the question. And you know what most of you probably aren't reading this anyway, because you all wanted to know what happened right away that you just couldn't take five seconds to read my comments! NOOOO!! Read and Review or else I will cause you all much PAIN!!!
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The beating of my heart, an endless cadence. I can hear it in my chest now as I walk along the sidewalk, making my way home. Home? Is this place my home? They say that home is where the heart is, don't they? Well I left my heart in Vietnam. I left my heart with him, wherever he went. So I guess I'll never be home again.
Tears fill my eyes, but it doesn't matter. It's raining again so no one on the street can tell. Banzai heels to me of his own accord. Good dog. He takes care of me.
It isn't too far now until I reach my neighborhood. Even if that house isn't my home, it's the place I can call mine. If I can keep it together for now I can get there, take a couple pills, and go back to bed. I can let sleep wash away my memories. Yet I know that won't happen. My dreams are filled with my memories. And my memories are filled with him.
If I can just keep it together the rest of the way home.
But the remembrance makes it so hard.
* * * * * *
My hand, trembling uncontrollably, darted out to touch his face. God his skin felt so cold beneath my fingers.
"Ran!" I cried frantically, pulling at him, shaking him. In retrospect it probably wasn't the best thing to do. "Wake up! Oh God, please say something," I breathed, holding back my sobs.
It took all the presence of mind I had left, and there wasn't much, not to sink into a debilitating panic and curl up against the wall. But I knew that doing so wasn't going to help Ran... if he was still within the realm of help.
Cradling my head in my hands I pulled back from him and forced myself to breath evenly, trying to calm myself. As soon as I looked up and saw him again, saw him, my beautiful lover, so broken before me, my efforts were almost wasted. But I had to be strong. I had to keep it together, for him.
Forcing my hands to be steady I reached out, fear twisting my guts, as I placed my fingers on his neck, below his jaw, searching for that sign of life. Cold flesh against my fingertips as I waited, fearing, dreading what I would feel. Stillness. I felt my breath hitch as stillness met my fingertips, I stared unbelieving at his empty face, and found myself pressing my fingers harder, deeper into his skin.
Still I waited, willing something to be there.
And then suddenly there was. A thread of life pulsed against my fingertips. Faint, hesitant, but undeniable. Ran was alive, but barely. I could already tell he wasn't breathing. His chest was still beneath the weight of the mounted machine gun.
I hadn't known I was holding my breath until I let it out in one great, painful rush, coughing as I found my lungs burning.
And then I was in frantic motion, desperate to free my love from his prison. To this day I have no idea how I managed to pull that gun off of him in the condition I was in. Weak from blood loss, shock, and fear, I could feel my broken collar bone grating and shifting within my body, causing a kind of pain that I can never begin to describe. Yet still I did. My hands were bloodied by my own frantic movements, but I felt no pain more than what I already knew.
When the gun was hauled to the side I could see plainly for the first time the condition he was in. Something looked wrong. One side of his rib cage seemed crumpled, concave almost. Broken ribs... shattered ribs. That's why he wasn't breathing; his lung was most likely punctured.
I had to get him out of the chopper. The overheated engine kept making whining, popping sounds, and I knew that if the fuel tank had been hit the possibility of a fire starting, or even of the chopper spontaneously exploding was high.
Again I found a strength within myself that was beyond my condition, and pulled him from the wall, turning him, taking him under the arms. Half of me was loathe to move him, not knowing what further damage I could be doing. Yet at the same time I knew I couldn't leave him in the helicopter. I dragged him laboriously across the hold and to the lip of the open door. Here I encountered a problem and a short moment of panic as I tried to figure out how to get him to the ground.
In the end I think I was too tired and weak to carry him, and I remember vaguely both of our bodies slumping to the charred jungle floor as I tried to ease him down on my shoulder. But much of my struggles with Ran that day are lost on me.
What I remember next was laying him back against the damp earth several yards from the emaciated UH-1. My whole body was shaking with pain, fatigue, and the suppressed urge to breakdown. I struggled so hard to keep my mind under control as I arranged his limp body on the ground. Seeing him lying there like that, devoid of life almost killed me. I kept remembering him as he lay before me only two days before, full of life and passion and love. His skin so wonderfully flushed with my touch and trembling just slightly in anticipation of our lovemaking.
And now he seemed so empty. So cold. I couldn't let it end like this. I had to get him breathing again.
"Ran..." I whispered, seeking his pulse again, waiting with held breath once more until it flittered ever so distantly against my finger tips. How long had he been unconscious? How long had he not been breathing?
There wasn't anymore time regardless.
Leaning over him I took his head in my hands, and tilted it back, opening his throat. I opened his mouth, wincing as more blood dribbled from the corner as I did so and then closed my eyes, covering his open mouth with my own, breathing my life into him. Silently I begged for him to accept my breath. Again and again I pulled away to breath and then cover his mouth, seeking to bring him back from the edge.
Tears filled my eyes as his body refused to respond to me and I began to curse and cry under my breath.
"Please, Ran. Please, please, don't do this to me. I can't lose you like this. It should be me... aren't I supposed to be the one to die?!" I cried as I pulled back again and then with one last effort covered his mouth.
His response came so suddenly, and was so unexpected, that I was completely unprepared. His body spasmed beneath mine as his lungs suddenly sought to fill themselves, sucking the breath out of my body and then spasmed again, his whole body jerking as his breath met with the pooling blood in his lungs. His body's defenses took over, his body wracking with a gagging cough.
His blood filled my mouth. It spewed forth, into my body with such force that I could feel it seek to run down the back of my throat. Gagging in horror and disgust I pulled away, clutching my stomach, retching onto the earth, unable to control myself. My tearing eyes watched as the contents of my stomach, nothing more really than a cup of coffee and the burning bile were expelled from my mouth, stained with his blood, a red thread dangling from my lips as I spit and heaved until there was nothing more to get rid of.
The force of my vomiting sent my chest into a fit of agony with each heave, but there was nothing I could do about it until it subsided. Even so, no matter how bad it was for me, it was a hundred times worse for Ran.
When I turned back to him, frantic to keep him awake and with me he was twisted onto his side, he was still hacking up his own blood. With every cough his body shuddered in anguish, and I could only imagine the terrible things that the force of his cough was doing to his crushed ribs and torn lung.
"Ran!" I cried hoarsely, dragging myself up behind him, holding him, supporting him while he struggled to breathe.
Lost, tortured cries found their way past his lips as tears of pain and strain filled the corners of his eyes and eventually ran down the sides of his pale face.
Then finally as I held him the coughing ceased. A mess of dark, sick blood was spread out before him and his body trembled in exhaustion. I pulled him back so that he could rest against my lap. Pain glazed, distant eyes looked up at me as he struggled to take one ragged, wet breath. I winced each time his breathed hitched in pain before continuing.
Should I have let him die?
"It... it hurts," he said weakly, his voice breaking and cracking strangely.
"I know, I'm sorry," I whispered.
"W-what..?"
"We crashed, Ran. I'm so sorry. I-I got us shot down. The gun pinned you. I think your ribs are broken, and your lung must be punctured. Oh God, Ran..." I moaned, more tears coming from my eyes, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't leave you there knowing you were still alive."
His eyes seemed to fade in and out of focus as he looked up at me, once again struggling to find his breath. His eyebrows twitched downward and he closed his eyes momentarily. "Mitchell?"
My eyes flew open wide and I turned back towards the helicopter. Mitchell! Oh God! I'd left him. He, too, had still been alive, and I had left him! I had to get him out of the chopper. I couldn't leave him in there, not after I had saved Ran.
"He's still in the chopper," I said hastily, beginning to lay Ran down against the earth again. "I have to get him. Don't move. I'll be right back!"
As I struggled to my feet I heard him say something in that odd voice I barely recognized as his. Turning back around wearily I looked down at him. "What?"
"Med kit. Get... the med kit."
Nodding, I gave him one more longing glanced and then hobbled back towards the chopper. Once again I somehow managed to pull myself inside and then to the cockpit.
"Mitchell?! I've come for you, man!" I called as I came up on the co seat. It seemed to me that even more blood was smeared on the floor, and I came up short. Mitchell had tried to pull himself out from between the seats, but hadn't managed it. It was obvious that he was dead, the smell of blood and fear and death filled my nostrils and made we want to wretch again, but there was nothing left to throw up.
Mitchell was dead. He was dead now when he had been alive only a few minutes before. No it had been longer than that. It only seemed like a few minutes because I had been so charged up on adrenaline. In reality I had no idea how long it had taken me to get Ran out of the chopper and breathing again. It could have been mere minutes, it could have been a lifetime. Either way, Mitchell was dead, dead and broken when I could have had the chance to save him. In all likelihood nothing could have saved Mitchell, but even that knowledge, that logic, couldn't stop the growing guilt and sadness in my heart.
Why did these things keep happening to me?!
Still I knew I couldn't fall apart. I had to stay with it not only for myself, but for Ran as well. I had to take care of him and make sure we both got out of there in one piece. I needed to find the med kit... and the radio.
For what seemed like hours I scrambled around in the hold of my crashed bird gathering up anything I could find that might be useful. MREs, survival blankets, the crash kit, the emergency radio, the med kit, and the rifles stored in the crates against the far wall. All the while, as I hurried two and fro, I was tortured by two thoughts. I had to get back to Ran, and Mitchell was watching me. I couldn't keep my eyes from continuously snapping up to fixate on the visible part of his corpse. My irrational mind kept telling me things I won't repeat here, because then you'll think I'd gone section eight. Heh... then again, maybe I did. I don't really know.
Weighted down with all of the supplies I'd found in the chopper I made my way back to where Ran was lying on the jungle floor. I dropped my burdens with a groan and returned to his side, reaching out to gently touch his face.
"Ran? I'm back," I called softly. His eyes were shut peacefully and I thought for a moment that pain relieving sleep had found him. And then I realized he wasn't breathing again. Shock was trying to claim him. His body was trying to shut itself down to save his mind from the pain. Don't let anyone ever tell you that pain never killed anyone.
"Fujimiya!" I screamed this time, "You bastard, don't you dare die on me, not after I vomited up your blood, you ass-hole!"
His heart had not yet begun to slow significantly, and so I administered mouth to mouth once again. This time I was ready for his reaction and pulled away, avoiding a mouthful of stagnant blood that wasn't even mine.
I held him in my arms as his body shook and shuddered with the shock of being drug back into life for the second time in less than half an hour. Ran coughed up a little more blood, but nothing compared to his first fit. I did my best to soothe him as he began to come to his senses again, grasping his surroundings and all of his pain with frightening clarity. I watched, my heart torn in two, as he grit his teeth against the agony of simply being alive.
I held him tightly, not wanting him to cause himself further injury as his muscles contracted instinctively against the pain, causing his body to jerk. His eyes went from being squeezed shut one moment to wide, staring up at the sky, tears leaking from the corners the next. A strange, strangled squeak caught in his throat as he took in one large gasp of air. And then his body stilled, going rigid as he fought to control his breathing, relaxing slowly, slowly until I cradled him loosely against my chest.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, fighting the tears in my eyes.
I heard him take a wet, quavering breath, and then heard it released in a whimper of exhaustion. For a few long moments we stayed like that. I just wanted to hold him close to me, to feel the reassuring warmth of his living body. As long as he was alive I didn't care what kind of shape the two of us were in. It would take what I could get, if only for the moment. I tried to breathe deeply and regularly, coaxing him to follow my lead.
"Breathe with me," I said, pulling him against my chest. "Please, Ran, just breathe with me."
And he tried. I felt his hands grip the fabric of my pants as he struggled to overcome his pain and delirium. I don't remember what I said to him, but I know I whispered in his ear. Most likely it doesn't matter what I said, because he probably couldn't hear me anyway. But still I liked to think that my voice helped at least somewhat.
After a time his breathing became semi regular, jerky, but regular. I sat breathing with him a while longer and then when he seemed in danger of drifting away again I shifted and spoke.
"I'll bandage your ribs," I said quietly. "That will make you more comfortable. I hope."
It took him a moment, but he did nod. Somehow I managed to get him to sit up. We had both lost so much blood that at the time everything seemed futile to the point of being hilarious. Why was I even bothering? I didn't know, I just knew that I couldn't give up and lie down to die quietly. And even if that's what Ran wanted, I couldn't let him do so either.
After retrieving the med kit I gingerly began to remove his shirts. He kept his eyes closed and his teeth grit together as I did my best to be gentle. Everything was so still, there was no wind in the trees, no sound save that of the rustling of his clothes as I pulled them over his head, making sure not the hurt his arm, which had since stopped bleeding, much to my relief.
When I finally removed his undershirt and was able to see his exposed torso I was both relieved and frightened. Amazingly enough none of his ribs had broken his skin from the other side. Nothing was sticking out. At the same time his ribs just looked horribly wrong. I can't explain how exactly. It was just wrong. And now I had to get down to the hard part.
"Ran?"
His eyes fluttered at the sound of my voice. "Hn?"
"I'm going to try to reset some or your ribs. Will you be ok?"
His eyes opened slowly, deep indigo reflecting nothing. So dark. "Doesn't matter. Do what you want," he grated, wincing at the effort to make his voice work.
I wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but as long as I had his permission I wasn't going to argue with him.
"I love you, Ran," I said softly. "I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything in response, but I didn't blame him.
Slowly I let my fingers begin to work over his side. I kept my eyes moving back and forth from his ribs to his face, watching for signs of pain. Of course I knew that this was painful for him, but I didn't want to do anything that was going to injure him further. His face could tell me if I was doing so.
Tenderly, gently, methodically my fingertips felt and prodded and pushed, looking for things I could start to fix, out of place fragments that yielded to my insistent pressure. I moved several of his rips into what felt to me like more natural positions, at one point halting abruptly as I heard Ran make a strange noise.
I glanced up, anxious. But to my relief his face looked less grieved. The very faintest smile was painted on his pale lips and I heard his sigh. "Better."
A few more uncomfortable crunching sounds and I decided it was enough. We were both panting heavily, Ran from pain, and most likely blood loss and I from tension. Keeping my hand pressed firmly against his side, wanting to keep pressure so that things stayed in place I reached awkwardly for the cloth bandages in the med kit.
"Take a deep breathe, I don't want to tie this too tight," I said absently as I began to arrange the bandage so that I could wrap it around his ribs. The bandages would provide support, keeping his ribs in place and hopefully making it easier for him to breath.
"I can't," he grated.
I looked up, furrowing my brows. "Try."
The look he gave me almost made me want to back away. Hooded eyes glared at me darkly and what I saw there made my heart clench... resentment. Did Ran resent me for putting him through this? To him it must have seemed so inviting just to lie down and give in.
"Ran, don't look like that," I whispered. "I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to let me."
His eyes fluttered and fell shut. He paused for a moment and then I watched his body stiffen as he suddenly took a sharp breath. His chest rose slightly and I watched his eyes squeeze shut even tighter as he fought to keep his breath in. I wrapped his ribs as quickly as I could, pulling the bandages snugly around him and finally tying them off. He made no protest, and my hands trembled as I went. When I was done I rocked back on my heels and sighed softly.
"Is it better?" I asked.
I heard Ran exhale haltingly, his breath hitching as he suddenly coughed again, more blood coming up and running from the corner of his mouth. He waited for a moment and then nodded once. I watched as his arm came up to clutch his middle as he sat there, staring blankly into the dirt.
There was a strange buzzing sound in my ears and I didn't like it. Absently I shook my head and grumbled, touching my forehead. I had all but forgotten about the gash there and winced at the unexpectedly sharp pain that flared through my skull.
"Argh!"
"You're hurt..." Ran said absently, his voice soft and wavering.
"Don't worry about me," I said, pulling myself closer to him, scooting around to his other side so that I could take a closer look at the wound on his arm. To my relief it was just a flesh wound, a bullet must have grazed him. "Can you hold out your arm?"
He released his hold from around his body and weakly held his arm out to me, making soft grunting noises as he did so. Carefully I took his arm in my hands and then began to clean the wound with the alcohol pads from the medical kit. If it stung at all he didn't show it. What is pain compounded on more pain? Not a whole lot.
When I had bandaged his arm as well I helped him lay back down and covered his body with his shirts and one of the survival blankets and then thought about my next plan of action. Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept telling myself that I should do something about the gash on my forehead. Ever wish you had listened to those voices?
Every little movement I made was like swimming upstream. My limbs just didn't want to work anymore, I felt so heavy. Even so I forced myself to crawl back over Ran to where I left the long wave radio. I knew that there was no way in hell I could get it to reach base, but if they sent anyone out for us, and I had a hard time thinking Max and Jei wouldn't put up a fight for us, then they could probably get through if I left it tuned to the emergency channel.
Dragging the radio unit with me I made my way back to Ran's side and then sat there, the radio propped up beside me, and wrapped myself up in the other blanket.
So there we were, all busted up and bled out and most likely just waiting to die. I rocked back and forth as I sat next to Ran and babbled in a continuous string just to keep myself occupied and to keep Ran awake. I knew that no matter what I did I had to keep both of us awake. If I fell asleep then Ran would fall asleep and if Ran fell asleep he wasn't ever going to wake up again.
At some point it started to rain again. We could hear the rain pounding on the canopy, which managed to keep most of the downpour from pouring on us. The rainwater would collect in the trees above and then pour down to the ground in a sudden rush.
Time passed in an odd kind of way. The sound of my senseless droning became a sort of underlying theme, filling the time void with nothingness. Hours passed, the sun rose high into the sky and sometime around what must have been noon it burned off the rain clouds and the day grew hotter.
The heat and the dampness didn't make things any better for us. I don't exactly remember when I first realized that the blood was attracting insects. Fat jungle flies came to muck around in the coagulating messes as they began to stink. Again and again I brushed absently at my forehead, trying to ward off flittering things that came to investigate the open wound in my skin. I wanted to move us away from there, but there was no way I could. We were both too tired, both in no shape to do much of anything but huddle miserably and wait for whatever it was we were waiting for.
Never have any two beings been more wretched than Ran and I were then. Cowering within our own minds, surrounded by our own stinking blood, and those that came to feed on it.
Every once in a while I would shake Ran or speak his name loudly to assure myself that he wasn't drifting off. Mostly he just lay there, staring up at the sky and struggling for breath, ignoring the things that kept touching and crawling on his skin. I wanted to brush them away, but it was too hard to move. All the muscles in my chest had gone stiff around my broken collarbone, and moving was just too painful.
I kept thinking about what Jei had said to me the first time I met him about keeping my feet dry. I found myself obsessing over the fact that our feet were getting wet. "Things grow in the jungle," I murmured to myself.
Thusly we spent the greater part of the day. I found it getting harder and harder to string coherent thoughts together and my mind and mouth often wandered around in circles, arguing with each other. I was becoming delirious. The gash on my forehead was infected already, a fever spreading through my body, but of course I didn't know that then. As far as I was concerned I was just tired and sick with fear and anger.
I would have strange moments of brilliant clarity in which everything seemed so utterly hopeless that I simply wanted to fall over onto the wet ground and cry myself into oblivion. It really wasn't like me to worry like that, especially not about myself, but I guess it was really Ran who I was worried for. The thought of losing him, after finally finding comfort in him, finding love and acceptance and a reason to go on, was unbearable. And all he did was lie there and stare up at the canopy, breathing shallowly, painfully, wetly. Somehow I feel like even then I knew I would never have him back.
"Ran?" I called softly at one point, leaning over him stiffly, my body protesting the movement. I placed my hand on his pale, pale cheek and looked down into his dark, endless eyes. "Don't go to sleep, ok? I know you want to, but you can't. Stay with me, stay with me, Ran. Don't go away."
For a moment his eyes cleared and focused on mine. Then they became so dark and angry, resentful and hurt, filled with accusation and pain. His lip twitched and he seemed to want to say something, but I knew he couldn't find the breath or the energy. Then I did start to cry. My tears fell softly as I leaned over him, weeping bitterly. If I didn't lose him to his injuries I would lose him to himself.
I knew he was in so much pain. I could read it in his eyes and in every slight movement of his body. Nature cried out to him to give in and rest, to let it drain away. But there I was forcing him to stay with it, to fight through his fatigue and pain. Hadn't he done as much to me once? Maybe not in quite the same way, but hadn't he refused to let me give in and give up when all I wanted to do was run from the pain? Yes, he had. And now I had to do the same.
I remembered that night, the night when Ran took my pills, when he buried his cigarette in my hand to force me to give up my escape. How much I had hated him then. I remembered how I screamed and cried and resented him and his caring, wanting him to just leave me alone. I just wanted it to go away, and I didn't care what that meant. The glassy distant quality to Ran's eyes as he looked back off into the dark canopy told me that he wanted that same thing just then. He just wanted me to leave him alone... to die if need be.
Through my tears I moaned softly, "I'm sorry, Ran. I'm selfish, I know, but I can't be alone here. Don't leave me alone, you're all I have."
By the time the sun began to sink again, long shadows and twilight filling the space where Ran and I waited for whatever end might await us, snatches of decaying flesh could be caught on the breeze. Mitchell was doing his best to make what little life we had left as miserable as possible, and I silently cursed him for it. He was also attracting things more dangerous and curious than jungle flies. Although I was sure he had his fill of them as well. In the dimness I couldn't really see anything beyond the fallen bird, but I swore I could hear things clawing, scrabbling at the metal hull. I imagined little yellow devils dancing across the floor of the hold, gorging themselves on the bloated flesh of my fallen comrade. But the scary thing was that a part of me knew I was thinking crazy, and that scared the shit out of me.
"Hidaka, what is wrong with you?" I mumbled to myself. "Don't you know there's no such thing as devils... But there have to be, this is hell... this is where the devil lives."
I kept the rifles close to my side.
Looking back I can only be thankful to God that I was having one of my clearer moments when I heard the radio suddenly snap into life. It gave off a terrible high-pitched screech and then started to crackle, bits and fragments of something coming over the frequency.
"Downed bird, do y- *crack* m-e? Ov-r."
For a few moments I was so stunned that I couldn't even begin to grasp what was suddenly talking at me. And then I understood. Leaning sideways I snatched at the radio as best my numb fingers would allow and brought it to my mouth.
"I re-*snap*. This is UH-1B 52520, downed bird *crackle* read me? Over."
My fingers clamped down on the com. My voice shook as I spoke, willing myself to be coherent. "This is Hidaka, I read. O-over."
Silence. And then, "Holy shit. Well, I didn't expect to hear from you boys, but we're mighty glad we did. Position and status? Over."
"Anoo... er, sorry, ummm... Status? I don't know. We... we crashed, I know that. My co is... uh, dead, and my gunner is... nearly dead, I think. And I... I don't know about me."
Another pause. "Alrighty, you sound like you're in bad shape, son. You wanna send up a flare for us? Over."
"Flare?" My mind was trying to close itself off again, little lights dancing behind my eyes.
"There should be a flare gun in the crash kit. Do you have the crash kit? Over."
"I... I think so. Yes, I do. Oh, thank god it isn't in the chopper I can't go in there. The devil is in there..."
"Uhhh, it's alright son, send up the flare and we'll get you out of there. Just find the flare and we'll take you home. Over."
Without another word I dropped the radio and scrambled stiffly, my body aching and crying, over the ground to where I had dropped the crash kit. I hadn't even looked through it yet. Shaking fingers fumbled with the lock, springing it open suddenly. I scanned the contents in the waning light and found the gun.
My hands closed around it and I rocked back on my heels. I swore that I could hear chopper blades off in the distance. Distant, distant, slowly slicing through the air, tearing the sky apart. I closed my eyes and imagined the bird.
"You still there, son? Jacobs, I think we lost him... shit!"
I thought of everything that had happened in my life to get me to where I was at that point, broken and wretched on the floor of the Vietnam jungle, pointing a gun to the sky in hopes of salvation. I thought of Kase and Yuriko, did they miss me? Think of me? Would they know the me who survived all of this if I ever saw them again? I thought about my mother, her face streaked with tears as she learned who I truly was, or what I truly was if you asked my father. He had always been a stern man, but he had taught me the ways of our people. He taught me honor and respect, that loss of respect for oneself was worse than death, worthy of death. What was I worthy of now, father? Then I thought of Omi and his smiling face, his clear blue eyes, and how he hacked it. Hacked it only to die in my arms. Swanny, Crawford, how many others had I touched who had suffered? Thinking finally of Ran and our one, blissful night of lovemaking I pulled the trigger, making my final realization.
I had broken Ran Fujimiya's curse. Broken it because my own curse was stronger.
I watched the flare streak into the sky, and burst bright red, falling slowly, so slowly. It looked like Christmas.
"Whoa! There you are," came the faint, broken sound of the rescue pilot's voice over the radio. I just sat and watched the falling red star.
"You see, Ran," I said. "I told you I'd get you out of here."
Within five minutes the rescue chopper was easing itself down through our crash path, and landing awkwardly. Men rushed towards us, lifting, carrying, supporting, hurrying. I remember crying out in pain as one of them jarred my collar bone, hastily uttering some apology.
I saw them hurrying towards Ran and I called out over my shoulder, struggling against the hands that carried me forward. "Be careful with him!"
I heard them mutter, and then let myself be lifted into the chopper. It was a med unit. A red cross outfitted UH-1. I knew it had to be, because as soon as I was inside I was lifted again and put on a cot. I felt a cold prick on the soft part of my arm and then heat flooded my veins, my pain waning away towards nothing. Everything became muted, dull, twilight.
I saw through the haze as they lifted Ran inside and onto a cot, arranging him. "This guy's beyond critical," I heard one of them mumble.
"Don't even bother with the morphine. He's beyond pain, practically wasted. We might as well just leave him here as much of a chance as he's got."
"Don't you dare!" I heard my own voice and was scared by its strength and clarity. Nothing else was clear. Yet my voice worked. "I kept him alive on will alone, with all this shit you'd better not just give up on him," I growled, falling deeper into the cot.
A hand on my forehead. "Don't worry, son, we won't leave your friend to die."
"Yo-yokatta."
And then, knowing I no longer had to be responsible for both of us, I let the morphine take me away, and blocked out the rest of the world.
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Afterthoughts: Awww... see, Ran's still alive. At least for the time being. *pets Ran* I'll try to get the next chapter done soon. Since I'm on break for a whole month (whoo hoo) I should be able to get lots o' writing done. Although it won't do this story much good... since it's almost *looks around conspiratorially* -over-.
Review if you know what is good for me. O.o Or something like that.
Comments: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! (To those that celebrate it anyway. ^_^) Sorry this took so long and that you all had to suffer with the cliffhanger, but I had finals week and then had to travel across the country and stuff, so it too two weeks. I would like to say that never in my life have I consecutively been called an evil bitch by so many. It made me feel warm and fuzzy, thanks guys I LOVE YOU TOO!!! No actually I do, because calling me an evil bitch means you care, and it's the thought that counts, right? Errr. or something. Anyway so here it is the follow up. So now you will all know whether or not I wasted Ran. I got mixed opinions from the people who actually deem me worthy of talking to online. Got a couple "I know you killed him, I know you did, you evil evil evil wench!!" but mostly teary-eyed pleading. MUWAHAHAHAHA!! Does your pleading pay off?? Read and find out. Now... would I -really- kill Ran?? Well the answer to that is actually yes, I really would, be whether I really -did- or not is the question. And you know what most of you probably aren't reading this anyway, because you all wanted to know what happened right away that you just couldn't take five seconds to read my comments! NOOOO!! Read and Review or else I will cause you all much PAIN!!!
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The beating of my heart, an endless cadence. I can hear it in my chest now as I walk along the sidewalk, making my way home. Home? Is this place my home? They say that home is where the heart is, don't they? Well I left my heart in Vietnam. I left my heart with him, wherever he went. So I guess I'll never be home again.
Tears fill my eyes, but it doesn't matter. It's raining again so no one on the street can tell. Banzai heels to me of his own accord. Good dog. He takes care of me.
It isn't too far now until I reach my neighborhood. Even if that house isn't my home, it's the place I can call mine. If I can keep it together for now I can get there, take a couple pills, and go back to bed. I can let sleep wash away my memories. Yet I know that won't happen. My dreams are filled with my memories. And my memories are filled with him.
If I can just keep it together the rest of the way home.
But the remembrance makes it so hard.
* * * * * *
My hand, trembling uncontrollably, darted out to touch his face. God his skin felt so cold beneath my fingers.
"Ran!" I cried frantically, pulling at him, shaking him. In retrospect it probably wasn't the best thing to do. "Wake up! Oh God, please say something," I breathed, holding back my sobs.
It took all the presence of mind I had left, and there wasn't much, not to sink into a debilitating panic and curl up against the wall. But I knew that doing so wasn't going to help Ran... if he was still within the realm of help.
Cradling my head in my hands I pulled back from him and forced myself to breath evenly, trying to calm myself. As soon as I looked up and saw him again, saw him, my beautiful lover, so broken before me, my efforts were almost wasted. But I had to be strong. I had to keep it together, for him.
Forcing my hands to be steady I reached out, fear twisting my guts, as I placed my fingers on his neck, below his jaw, searching for that sign of life. Cold flesh against my fingertips as I waited, fearing, dreading what I would feel. Stillness. I felt my breath hitch as stillness met my fingertips, I stared unbelieving at his empty face, and found myself pressing my fingers harder, deeper into his skin.
Still I waited, willing something to be there.
And then suddenly there was. A thread of life pulsed against my fingertips. Faint, hesitant, but undeniable. Ran was alive, but barely. I could already tell he wasn't breathing. His chest was still beneath the weight of the mounted machine gun.
I hadn't known I was holding my breath until I let it out in one great, painful rush, coughing as I found my lungs burning.
And then I was in frantic motion, desperate to free my love from his prison. To this day I have no idea how I managed to pull that gun off of him in the condition I was in. Weak from blood loss, shock, and fear, I could feel my broken collar bone grating and shifting within my body, causing a kind of pain that I can never begin to describe. Yet still I did. My hands were bloodied by my own frantic movements, but I felt no pain more than what I already knew.
When the gun was hauled to the side I could see plainly for the first time the condition he was in. Something looked wrong. One side of his rib cage seemed crumpled, concave almost. Broken ribs... shattered ribs. That's why he wasn't breathing; his lung was most likely punctured.
I had to get him out of the chopper. The overheated engine kept making whining, popping sounds, and I knew that if the fuel tank had been hit the possibility of a fire starting, or even of the chopper spontaneously exploding was high.
Again I found a strength within myself that was beyond my condition, and pulled him from the wall, turning him, taking him under the arms. Half of me was loathe to move him, not knowing what further damage I could be doing. Yet at the same time I knew I couldn't leave him in the helicopter. I dragged him laboriously across the hold and to the lip of the open door. Here I encountered a problem and a short moment of panic as I tried to figure out how to get him to the ground.
In the end I think I was too tired and weak to carry him, and I remember vaguely both of our bodies slumping to the charred jungle floor as I tried to ease him down on my shoulder. But much of my struggles with Ran that day are lost on me.
What I remember next was laying him back against the damp earth several yards from the emaciated UH-1. My whole body was shaking with pain, fatigue, and the suppressed urge to breakdown. I struggled so hard to keep my mind under control as I arranged his limp body on the ground. Seeing him lying there like that, devoid of life almost killed me. I kept remembering him as he lay before me only two days before, full of life and passion and love. His skin so wonderfully flushed with my touch and trembling just slightly in anticipation of our lovemaking.
And now he seemed so empty. So cold. I couldn't let it end like this. I had to get him breathing again.
"Ran..." I whispered, seeking his pulse again, waiting with held breath once more until it flittered ever so distantly against my finger tips. How long had he been unconscious? How long had he not been breathing?
There wasn't anymore time regardless.
Leaning over him I took his head in my hands, and tilted it back, opening his throat. I opened his mouth, wincing as more blood dribbled from the corner as I did so and then closed my eyes, covering his open mouth with my own, breathing my life into him. Silently I begged for him to accept my breath. Again and again I pulled away to breath and then cover his mouth, seeking to bring him back from the edge.
Tears filled my eyes as his body refused to respond to me and I began to curse and cry under my breath.
"Please, Ran. Please, please, don't do this to me. I can't lose you like this. It should be me... aren't I supposed to be the one to die?!" I cried as I pulled back again and then with one last effort covered his mouth.
His response came so suddenly, and was so unexpected, that I was completely unprepared. His body spasmed beneath mine as his lungs suddenly sought to fill themselves, sucking the breath out of my body and then spasmed again, his whole body jerking as his breath met with the pooling blood in his lungs. His body's defenses took over, his body wracking with a gagging cough.
His blood filled my mouth. It spewed forth, into my body with such force that I could feel it seek to run down the back of my throat. Gagging in horror and disgust I pulled away, clutching my stomach, retching onto the earth, unable to control myself. My tearing eyes watched as the contents of my stomach, nothing more really than a cup of coffee and the burning bile were expelled from my mouth, stained with his blood, a red thread dangling from my lips as I spit and heaved until there was nothing more to get rid of.
The force of my vomiting sent my chest into a fit of agony with each heave, but there was nothing I could do about it until it subsided. Even so, no matter how bad it was for me, it was a hundred times worse for Ran.
When I turned back to him, frantic to keep him awake and with me he was twisted onto his side, he was still hacking up his own blood. With every cough his body shuddered in anguish, and I could only imagine the terrible things that the force of his cough was doing to his crushed ribs and torn lung.
"Ran!" I cried hoarsely, dragging myself up behind him, holding him, supporting him while he struggled to breathe.
Lost, tortured cries found their way past his lips as tears of pain and strain filled the corners of his eyes and eventually ran down the sides of his pale face.
Then finally as I held him the coughing ceased. A mess of dark, sick blood was spread out before him and his body trembled in exhaustion. I pulled him back so that he could rest against my lap. Pain glazed, distant eyes looked up at me as he struggled to take one ragged, wet breath. I winced each time his breathed hitched in pain before continuing.
Should I have let him die?
"It... it hurts," he said weakly, his voice breaking and cracking strangely.
"I know, I'm sorry," I whispered.
"W-what..?"
"We crashed, Ran. I'm so sorry. I-I got us shot down. The gun pinned you. I think your ribs are broken, and your lung must be punctured. Oh God, Ran..." I moaned, more tears coming from my eyes, "I'm so sorry. I couldn't leave you there knowing you were still alive."
His eyes seemed to fade in and out of focus as he looked up at me, once again struggling to find his breath. His eyebrows twitched downward and he closed his eyes momentarily. "Mitchell?"
My eyes flew open wide and I turned back towards the helicopter. Mitchell! Oh God! I'd left him. He, too, had still been alive, and I had left him! I had to get him out of the chopper. I couldn't leave him in there, not after I had saved Ran.
"He's still in the chopper," I said hastily, beginning to lay Ran down against the earth again. "I have to get him. Don't move. I'll be right back!"
As I struggled to my feet I heard him say something in that odd voice I barely recognized as his. Turning back around wearily I looked down at him. "What?"
"Med kit. Get... the med kit."
Nodding, I gave him one more longing glanced and then hobbled back towards the chopper. Once again I somehow managed to pull myself inside and then to the cockpit.
"Mitchell?! I've come for you, man!" I called as I came up on the co seat. It seemed to me that even more blood was smeared on the floor, and I came up short. Mitchell had tried to pull himself out from between the seats, but hadn't managed it. It was obvious that he was dead, the smell of blood and fear and death filled my nostrils and made we want to wretch again, but there was nothing left to throw up.
Mitchell was dead. He was dead now when he had been alive only a few minutes before. No it had been longer than that. It only seemed like a few minutes because I had been so charged up on adrenaline. In reality I had no idea how long it had taken me to get Ran out of the chopper and breathing again. It could have been mere minutes, it could have been a lifetime. Either way, Mitchell was dead, dead and broken when I could have had the chance to save him. In all likelihood nothing could have saved Mitchell, but even that knowledge, that logic, couldn't stop the growing guilt and sadness in my heart.
Why did these things keep happening to me?!
Still I knew I couldn't fall apart. I had to stay with it not only for myself, but for Ran as well. I had to take care of him and make sure we both got out of there in one piece. I needed to find the med kit... and the radio.
For what seemed like hours I scrambled around in the hold of my crashed bird gathering up anything I could find that might be useful. MREs, survival blankets, the crash kit, the emergency radio, the med kit, and the rifles stored in the crates against the far wall. All the while, as I hurried two and fro, I was tortured by two thoughts. I had to get back to Ran, and Mitchell was watching me. I couldn't keep my eyes from continuously snapping up to fixate on the visible part of his corpse. My irrational mind kept telling me things I won't repeat here, because then you'll think I'd gone section eight. Heh... then again, maybe I did. I don't really know.
Weighted down with all of the supplies I'd found in the chopper I made my way back to where Ran was lying on the jungle floor. I dropped my burdens with a groan and returned to his side, reaching out to gently touch his face.
"Ran? I'm back," I called softly. His eyes were shut peacefully and I thought for a moment that pain relieving sleep had found him. And then I realized he wasn't breathing again. Shock was trying to claim him. His body was trying to shut itself down to save his mind from the pain. Don't let anyone ever tell you that pain never killed anyone.
"Fujimiya!" I screamed this time, "You bastard, don't you dare die on me, not after I vomited up your blood, you ass-hole!"
His heart had not yet begun to slow significantly, and so I administered mouth to mouth once again. This time I was ready for his reaction and pulled away, avoiding a mouthful of stagnant blood that wasn't even mine.
I held him in my arms as his body shook and shuddered with the shock of being drug back into life for the second time in less than half an hour. Ran coughed up a little more blood, but nothing compared to his first fit. I did my best to soothe him as he began to come to his senses again, grasping his surroundings and all of his pain with frightening clarity. I watched, my heart torn in two, as he grit his teeth against the agony of simply being alive.
I held him tightly, not wanting him to cause himself further injury as his muscles contracted instinctively against the pain, causing his body to jerk. His eyes went from being squeezed shut one moment to wide, staring up at the sky, tears leaking from the corners the next. A strange, strangled squeak caught in his throat as he took in one large gasp of air. And then his body stilled, going rigid as he fought to control his breathing, relaxing slowly, slowly until I cradled him loosely against my chest.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, fighting the tears in my eyes.
I heard him take a wet, quavering breath, and then heard it released in a whimper of exhaustion. For a few long moments we stayed like that. I just wanted to hold him close to me, to feel the reassuring warmth of his living body. As long as he was alive I didn't care what kind of shape the two of us were in. It would take what I could get, if only for the moment. I tried to breathe deeply and regularly, coaxing him to follow my lead.
"Breathe with me," I said, pulling him against my chest. "Please, Ran, just breathe with me."
And he tried. I felt his hands grip the fabric of my pants as he struggled to overcome his pain and delirium. I don't remember what I said to him, but I know I whispered in his ear. Most likely it doesn't matter what I said, because he probably couldn't hear me anyway. But still I liked to think that my voice helped at least somewhat.
After a time his breathing became semi regular, jerky, but regular. I sat breathing with him a while longer and then when he seemed in danger of drifting away again I shifted and spoke.
"I'll bandage your ribs," I said quietly. "That will make you more comfortable. I hope."
It took him a moment, but he did nod. Somehow I managed to get him to sit up. We had both lost so much blood that at the time everything seemed futile to the point of being hilarious. Why was I even bothering? I didn't know, I just knew that I couldn't give up and lie down to die quietly. And even if that's what Ran wanted, I couldn't let him do so either.
After retrieving the med kit I gingerly began to remove his shirts. He kept his eyes closed and his teeth grit together as I did my best to be gentle. Everything was so still, there was no wind in the trees, no sound save that of the rustling of his clothes as I pulled them over his head, making sure not the hurt his arm, which had since stopped bleeding, much to my relief.
When I finally removed his undershirt and was able to see his exposed torso I was both relieved and frightened. Amazingly enough none of his ribs had broken his skin from the other side. Nothing was sticking out. At the same time his ribs just looked horribly wrong. I can't explain how exactly. It was just wrong. And now I had to get down to the hard part.
"Ran?"
His eyes fluttered at the sound of my voice. "Hn?"
"I'm going to try to reset some or your ribs. Will you be ok?"
His eyes opened slowly, deep indigo reflecting nothing. So dark. "Doesn't matter. Do what you want," he grated, wincing at the effort to make his voice work.
I wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but as long as I had his permission I wasn't going to argue with him.
"I love you, Ran," I said softly. "I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything in response, but I didn't blame him.
Slowly I let my fingers begin to work over his side. I kept my eyes moving back and forth from his ribs to his face, watching for signs of pain. Of course I knew that this was painful for him, but I didn't want to do anything that was going to injure him further. His face could tell me if I was doing so.
Tenderly, gently, methodically my fingertips felt and prodded and pushed, looking for things I could start to fix, out of place fragments that yielded to my insistent pressure. I moved several of his rips into what felt to me like more natural positions, at one point halting abruptly as I heard Ran make a strange noise.
I glanced up, anxious. But to my relief his face looked less grieved. The very faintest smile was painted on his pale lips and I heard his sigh. "Better."
A few more uncomfortable crunching sounds and I decided it was enough. We were both panting heavily, Ran from pain, and most likely blood loss and I from tension. Keeping my hand pressed firmly against his side, wanting to keep pressure so that things stayed in place I reached awkwardly for the cloth bandages in the med kit.
"Take a deep breathe, I don't want to tie this too tight," I said absently as I began to arrange the bandage so that I could wrap it around his ribs. The bandages would provide support, keeping his ribs in place and hopefully making it easier for him to breath.
"I can't," he grated.
I looked up, furrowing my brows. "Try."
The look he gave me almost made me want to back away. Hooded eyes glared at me darkly and what I saw there made my heart clench... resentment. Did Ran resent me for putting him through this? To him it must have seemed so inviting just to lie down and give in.
"Ran, don't look like that," I whispered. "I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to let me."
His eyes fluttered and fell shut. He paused for a moment and then I watched his body stiffen as he suddenly took a sharp breath. His chest rose slightly and I watched his eyes squeeze shut even tighter as he fought to keep his breath in. I wrapped his ribs as quickly as I could, pulling the bandages snugly around him and finally tying them off. He made no protest, and my hands trembled as I went. When I was done I rocked back on my heels and sighed softly.
"Is it better?" I asked.
I heard Ran exhale haltingly, his breath hitching as he suddenly coughed again, more blood coming up and running from the corner of his mouth. He waited for a moment and then nodded once. I watched as his arm came up to clutch his middle as he sat there, staring blankly into the dirt.
There was a strange buzzing sound in my ears and I didn't like it. Absently I shook my head and grumbled, touching my forehead. I had all but forgotten about the gash there and winced at the unexpectedly sharp pain that flared through my skull.
"Argh!"
"You're hurt..." Ran said absently, his voice soft and wavering.
"Don't worry about me," I said, pulling myself closer to him, scooting around to his other side so that I could take a closer look at the wound on his arm. To my relief it was just a flesh wound, a bullet must have grazed him. "Can you hold out your arm?"
He released his hold from around his body and weakly held his arm out to me, making soft grunting noises as he did so. Carefully I took his arm in my hands and then began to clean the wound with the alcohol pads from the medical kit. If it stung at all he didn't show it. What is pain compounded on more pain? Not a whole lot.
When I had bandaged his arm as well I helped him lay back down and covered his body with his shirts and one of the survival blankets and then thought about my next plan of action. Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept telling myself that I should do something about the gash on my forehead. Ever wish you had listened to those voices?
Every little movement I made was like swimming upstream. My limbs just didn't want to work anymore, I felt so heavy. Even so I forced myself to crawl back over Ran to where I left the long wave radio. I knew that there was no way in hell I could get it to reach base, but if they sent anyone out for us, and I had a hard time thinking Max and Jei wouldn't put up a fight for us, then they could probably get through if I left it tuned to the emergency channel.
Dragging the radio unit with me I made my way back to Ran's side and then sat there, the radio propped up beside me, and wrapped myself up in the other blanket.
So there we were, all busted up and bled out and most likely just waiting to die. I rocked back and forth as I sat next to Ran and babbled in a continuous string just to keep myself occupied and to keep Ran awake. I knew that no matter what I did I had to keep both of us awake. If I fell asleep then Ran would fall asleep and if Ran fell asleep he wasn't ever going to wake up again.
At some point it started to rain again. We could hear the rain pounding on the canopy, which managed to keep most of the downpour from pouring on us. The rainwater would collect in the trees above and then pour down to the ground in a sudden rush.
Time passed in an odd kind of way. The sound of my senseless droning became a sort of underlying theme, filling the time void with nothingness. Hours passed, the sun rose high into the sky and sometime around what must have been noon it burned off the rain clouds and the day grew hotter.
The heat and the dampness didn't make things any better for us. I don't exactly remember when I first realized that the blood was attracting insects. Fat jungle flies came to muck around in the coagulating messes as they began to stink. Again and again I brushed absently at my forehead, trying to ward off flittering things that came to investigate the open wound in my skin. I wanted to move us away from there, but there was no way I could. We were both too tired, both in no shape to do much of anything but huddle miserably and wait for whatever it was we were waiting for.
Never have any two beings been more wretched than Ran and I were then. Cowering within our own minds, surrounded by our own stinking blood, and those that came to feed on it.
Every once in a while I would shake Ran or speak his name loudly to assure myself that he wasn't drifting off. Mostly he just lay there, staring up at the sky and struggling for breath, ignoring the things that kept touching and crawling on his skin. I wanted to brush them away, but it was too hard to move. All the muscles in my chest had gone stiff around my broken collarbone, and moving was just too painful.
I kept thinking about what Jei had said to me the first time I met him about keeping my feet dry. I found myself obsessing over the fact that our feet were getting wet. "Things grow in the jungle," I murmured to myself.
Thusly we spent the greater part of the day. I found it getting harder and harder to string coherent thoughts together and my mind and mouth often wandered around in circles, arguing with each other. I was becoming delirious. The gash on my forehead was infected already, a fever spreading through my body, but of course I didn't know that then. As far as I was concerned I was just tired and sick with fear and anger.
I would have strange moments of brilliant clarity in which everything seemed so utterly hopeless that I simply wanted to fall over onto the wet ground and cry myself into oblivion. It really wasn't like me to worry like that, especially not about myself, but I guess it was really Ran who I was worried for. The thought of losing him, after finally finding comfort in him, finding love and acceptance and a reason to go on, was unbearable. And all he did was lie there and stare up at the canopy, breathing shallowly, painfully, wetly. Somehow I feel like even then I knew I would never have him back.
"Ran?" I called softly at one point, leaning over him stiffly, my body protesting the movement. I placed my hand on his pale, pale cheek and looked down into his dark, endless eyes. "Don't go to sleep, ok? I know you want to, but you can't. Stay with me, stay with me, Ran. Don't go away."
For a moment his eyes cleared and focused on mine. Then they became so dark and angry, resentful and hurt, filled with accusation and pain. His lip twitched and he seemed to want to say something, but I knew he couldn't find the breath or the energy. Then I did start to cry. My tears fell softly as I leaned over him, weeping bitterly. If I didn't lose him to his injuries I would lose him to himself.
I knew he was in so much pain. I could read it in his eyes and in every slight movement of his body. Nature cried out to him to give in and rest, to let it drain away. But there I was forcing him to stay with it, to fight through his fatigue and pain. Hadn't he done as much to me once? Maybe not in quite the same way, but hadn't he refused to let me give in and give up when all I wanted to do was run from the pain? Yes, he had. And now I had to do the same.
I remembered that night, the night when Ran took my pills, when he buried his cigarette in my hand to force me to give up my escape. How much I had hated him then. I remembered how I screamed and cried and resented him and his caring, wanting him to just leave me alone. I just wanted it to go away, and I didn't care what that meant. The glassy distant quality to Ran's eyes as he looked back off into the dark canopy told me that he wanted that same thing just then. He just wanted me to leave him alone... to die if need be.
Through my tears I moaned softly, "I'm sorry, Ran. I'm selfish, I know, but I can't be alone here. Don't leave me alone, you're all I have."
By the time the sun began to sink again, long shadows and twilight filling the space where Ran and I waited for whatever end might await us, snatches of decaying flesh could be caught on the breeze. Mitchell was doing his best to make what little life we had left as miserable as possible, and I silently cursed him for it. He was also attracting things more dangerous and curious than jungle flies. Although I was sure he had his fill of them as well. In the dimness I couldn't really see anything beyond the fallen bird, but I swore I could hear things clawing, scrabbling at the metal hull. I imagined little yellow devils dancing across the floor of the hold, gorging themselves on the bloated flesh of my fallen comrade. But the scary thing was that a part of me knew I was thinking crazy, and that scared the shit out of me.
"Hidaka, what is wrong with you?" I mumbled to myself. "Don't you know there's no such thing as devils... But there have to be, this is hell... this is where the devil lives."
I kept the rifles close to my side.
Looking back I can only be thankful to God that I was having one of my clearer moments when I heard the radio suddenly snap into life. It gave off a terrible high-pitched screech and then started to crackle, bits and fragments of something coming over the frequency.
"Downed bird, do y- *crack* m-e? Ov-r."
For a few moments I was so stunned that I couldn't even begin to grasp what was suddenly talking at me. And then I understood. Leaning sideways I snatched at the radio as best my numb fingers would allow and brought it to my mouth.
"I re-*snap*. This is UH-1B 52520, downed bird *crackle* read me? Over."
My fingers clamped down on the com. My voice shook as I spoke, willing myself to be coherent. "This is Hidaka, I read. O-over."
Silence. And then, "Holy shit. Well, I didn't expect to hear from you boys, but we're mighty glad we did. Position and status? Over."
"Anoo... er, sorry, ummm... Status? I don't know. We... we crashed, I know that. My co is... uh, dead, and my gunner is... nearly dead, I think. And I... I don't know about me."
Another pause. "Alrighty, you sound like you're in bad shape, son. You wanna send up a flare for us? Over."
"Flare?" My mind was trying to close itself off again, little lights dancing behind my eyes.
"There should be a flare gun in the crash kit. Do you have the crash kit? Over."
"I... I think so. Yes, I do. Oh, thank god it isn't in the chopper I can't go in there. The devil is in there..."
"Uhhh, it's alright son, send up the flare and we'll get you out of there. Just find the flare and we'll take you home. Over."
Without another word I dropped the radio and scrambled stiffly, my body aching and crying, over the ground to where I had dropped the crash kit. I hadn't even looked through it yet. Shaking fingers fumbled with the lock, springing it open suddenly. I scanned the contents in the waning light and found the gun.
My hands closed around it and I rocked back on my heels. I swore that I could hear chopper blades off in the distance. Distant, distant, slowly slicing through the air, tearing the sky apart. I closed my eyes and imagined the bird.
"You still there, son? Jacobs, I think we lost him... shit!"
I thought of everything that had happened in my life to get me to where I was at that point, broken and wretched on the floor of the Vietnam jungle, pointing a gun to the sky in hopes of salvation. I thought of Kase and Yuriko, did they miss me? Think of me? Would they know the me who survived all of this if I ever saw them again? I thought about my mother, her face streaked with tears as she learned who I truly was, or what I truly was if you asked my father. He had always been a stern man, but he had taught me the ways of our people. He taught me honor and respect, that loss of respect for oneself was worse than death, worthy of death. What was I worthy of now, father? Then I thought of Omi and his smiling face, his clear blue eyes, and how he hacked it. Hacked it only to die in my arms. Swanny, Crawford, how many others had I touched who had suffered? Thinking finally of Ran and our one, blissful night of lovemaking I pulled the trigger, making my final realization.
I had broken Ran Fujimiya's curse. Broken it because my own curse was stronger.
I watched the flare streak into the sky, and burst bright red, falling slowly, so slowly. It looked like Christmas.
"Whoa! There you are," came the faint, broken sound of the rescue pilot's voice over the radio. I just sat and watched the falling red star.
"You see, Ran," I said. "I told you I'd get you out of here."
Within five minutes the rescue chopper was easing itself down through our crash path, and landing awkwardly. Men rushed towards us, lifting, carrying, supporting, hurrying. I remember crying out in pain as one of them jarred my collar bone, hastily uttering some apology.
I saw them hurrying towards Ran and I called out over my shoulder, struggling against the hands that carried me forward. "Be careful with him!"
I heard them mutter, and then let myself be lifted into the chopper. It was a med unit. A red cross outfitted UH-1. I knew it had to be, because as soon as I was inside I was lifted again and put on a cot. I felt a cold prick on the soft part of my arm and then heat flooded my veins, my pain waning away towards nothing. Everything became muted, dull, twilight.
I saw through the haze as they lifted Ran inside and onto a cot, arranging him. "This guy's beyond critical," I heard one of them mumble.
"Don't even bother with the morphine. He's beyond pain, practically wasted. We might as well just leave him here as much of a chance as he's got."
"Don't you dare!" I heard my own voice and was scared by its strength and clarity. Nothing else was clear. Yet my voice worked. "I kept him alive on will alone, with all this shit you'd better not just give up on him," I growled, falling deeper into the cot.
A hand on my forehead. "Don't worry, son, we won't leave your friend to die."
"Yo-yokatta."
And then, knowing I no longer had to be responsible for both of us, I let the morphine take me away, and blocked out the rest of the world.
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Afterthoughts: Awww... see, Ran's still alive. At least for the time being. *pets Ran* I'll try to get the next chapter done soon. Since I'm on break for a whole month (whoo hoo) I should be able to get lots o' writing done. Although it won't do this story much good... since it's almost *looks around conspiratorially* -over-.
Review if you know what is good for me. O.o Or something like that.