Disclaimer: They aren't mine and they never will be, but I can play with them all I want as long as I put them back when I'm done.
Comments: Well folks, here it is the end. It's been fun and aggravating and time consuming and has given me a nervous tick. Well not all that really, but it –could- have. All in all I've really enjoyed writing this fic and have been really happy that people liked it so much and gave so much positive feedback and all that. *chuckles* And I must now apologize to the anonymous reviewer who bade me not write this chapter but leave the ending hanging. I have to admit that the thought had crossed my mind all on its own, but I really did want to finish this, and I knew of at least eight people who would have lynched me had I left it. LOL. Oh well. Oh the literary possibilities that are wasted. Anyway, I don't know how much I'll be writing this next coming semester. I submitted some of my writing to the writing department at my university and was accepted into the Creative Writing class, so I have the feeling that a lot of my creative energies will be focused there and somehow I don't think that fan fiction homoerotica is going to make Professor Towers very happy LOL. Unfortunately my little mind never stops working and I am already plagued by hatching brainstorms, so we'll see. I do have to work on Ink with Fei regardless (Christmas break has made it doubly hard since we are now 17 hour apart, damn Alaska time…). I kinda feel like I should finish up all my loose threads, but I don't know if I have enough will power or self control to do that… I have monkey mind. And here I go babbling away again when nobody cares… bleh. And I've been thinking about re-posting The Saga Begins and A Series of Unfortunate Events because oddly enough I have heard that people have actually been looking for them, which surprises me to no end. Of course I feel that if I post them I really ought to have a good reason, like finally getting around to writing that damn Saga sequel I keep telling myself I'm going to write or at least writing another piece for Unfortunate Events, which really shouldn't be all that hard and yet here I sit procrastinating and whining to myself. Life is so hard, pity me. (________________) ------ insert pity here And then again I am wondering why I am going on about this since most likely I'm the only one who really cares. Bleh. Ok well I have rambled for far too long about far too little of any importance. So go on with you, read and feel cathartic and stuff. And then review when you are done and make me happy. *grins* I for one need to get more sleep. ~_o Sleeeeepy…
Notes: Vung Tao and Cam Ranh are real places where hospitals with over 200 some beds existed during the Vietnam War. Didn't want people to think I was blowing smoke out my ass. Hehehe.
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For five seconds my world stands still. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. A prickling runs along my spine. The cat looks up and past my shoulder, licking her mouth clean of cat food. She doesn't seem too interested in what she sees, but then she never does. My eyes stare away into nothingness, the room before me blurs out of focus.
That voice. Did I hear what I think I heard, or was my mind, still caught up in the day's reminiscence, playing tricks on me? When I turned around it would be Mary standing there, smiling at me, looking just slightly worried.
But if that was true why did I feel so tense, so uncertain, like I was going to be sick.
But I couldn't just stand there with my back turned.
Chuckling softly I take the glass of water in my hand and begin to turn around. Mary isn't going to be very happy when I tell her she sounds like a man. "You know, Mare, for a second you sounded like this g-."
I've turned around now, my eyes seeking out the form that hovers in the entryway to my kitchen. Long, lean, uncertain he stands looking back at me, hands tucked deep into his pockets. I know that jacket. Fujimiya embroidered over the left breast, a 326th AHC wing pin pinned to the collar. It's a lot more worn than I remember it, a few more patches sewn onto the front. "Vietnam/Cambodia War Games Participant 67-69." His hair was a little longer, but his eyes… his eyes were the same deep, endless indigo blue that they had always been.
"Ran…" The name passes my lips in little more than a rush of air.
*Crash*
The water glass slips from my hands, cool glass falling past my trembling fingers. Glass and water fly in all directions and I recoil, crying out in surprise. Banzai yelps, frightened by not only the strange man who has entered his house but also the fearful clatter of the shattering glass.
"Ken!" I hear him cry as I begin to fixate on the broken mess on my floor. Anything, anything to keep from looking at him, thinking about him. I'm too confused, what the hell is going on?
Is he crossing the kitchen, is he coming towards me, this ghost from my dreams and nightmares?
I hear Banzai growl low in his throat. I see him in my mind's eye, head down, tail down, growling over his food dish, growling over me. I can't stop shaking, someone hold me still, I can't stop shaking.
I hear his footsteps stop. Maybe it was all just an illusion, maybe he's gone now. I lift my head, but he's still there, but not staring at me, staring at my dog. Banzai snarls and lowers his head standing between me and Ran.
"Good dog," I hear Ran breathe softly as he begins to back pedal.
I'm amazed, entranced by the hostility I see in Banzai's body. His hair raised, teeth bared, snarling, growling. All to keep me safe, he really does take care of me. What a good dog.
Then suddenly Ran raises his eyes to find mine, they are terrified, hurt, lost. And my eyes meet his and suddenly I understand that I'm not seeing some apparition, some delusion of my mind, but Ran. There before me, desperately searching my eyes for some kind of recognition, some kind of meaning, is the man who I have loved and lost for five long years, the one whose name I cry in despair in the night when I am all alone and cold.
The exchange between us lasts less than a second for as soon as his eyes leave those of my dog, Banzai's instincts tell him that now is the time. With a final low growl he bunches his muscles and prepares to spring; his prey is off guard.
"Banzai, no!" I scream, lunging forward just as my dog's muscles release. I step down amidst the broken glass, tiny shards piercing the soft underside of my foot, but I hardly notice. With a pained cry I grab at Banzai's fur, taking great handfuls, pulling him down, holding him back.
He snarls and struggles, barking frantically, teeth gnashing at the air. Ran stares down at us, bewildered, and then continues to back pedal.
"Banzai, calm down!" I cry, holding him around the neck. "Good boy, good boy," I soothe him, trying to reach around to pet his ears. But the sudden movement of my hand frightens him and catches him off guard. As I reach around he turns his head and snaps, his teeth digging into my flesh, drawing blood.
And as I cry out in pain he realizes what he has done and falls still, trembling, whimpering in my arms. He licks at my hand and then at my face, ears down, throat shown, begging for forgiveness.
"I'm sorry, boy," I say. "It's ok."
And then I look up, searching for Ran, but he's gone. Releasing Banzai I spring to my feet, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots through my foot. "Ran?!" I cry and limp into the back hall.
Throwing open the door I hobble onto the porch and scream his name again as I watch him cross my yard, heading towards the gate. He pauses at the sound of my voice and turns slowly, almost reluctantly and I can see the tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ken. I've never brought you anything but grief. Just forget that I came here today," he calls to me, his voice catching as he begins to turn away.
"Wait!" I cry, trying to limp down my stairs. "Ran, wait, where the hell are you going?! Don't make me chase you, I can't chase you like this, but I will. Please, don't make me!"
He turns towards me again. The look on his face is so sad, so pitiable. Why is he looking at me like that? Why do I feel like the one who's breaking his heart?
We stare at each other for a few moments and then he turns. I feel like all my strength is gone. Why is he walking away? I don't understand. Taking one more step down the stairs I stumble and grab frantically at the railing, catching myself as I cry out in pain. Bloody footsteps litter my porch. Bloody handprints mar my banister.
At the sound of my cry he looks back, turning, wanting to make sure I'm alright, but I'm not and if he walks away I will never be alright ever again. I haven't been alright since I lost him, and now suddenly he's here, but won't stay, won't say more that five words to me. My hand clinging lamely to the railing I sink down on the last step and begin to weep, great sobs wrack my body.
"Don't leave me! Jesus, don't leave me again!" I sob. "I'm sorry about the dog, I'm sorry, Ran, please, don't leave."
I can't take it. I know that if he goes I will never make it. Not all the pills in the world could save me from knowing his love for me has died. Why would he come here, show himself to me, and then leave me alone and broken?
"Oh, God, don't leave me alone," I whisper.
And then he is there, sitting at my side, touching my face, turning me towards him. Choking on my sobs I look into his eyes and they seem different now, less tortured, but more confused. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to stay?"
"Of course! Oh my God, Ran, it's you!" I cry, falling limply against his chest, tears staining my face. "Where have you been? Where have you been?!" I am overwhelmed by the feel and smell of him. So longed after, these sensations, so familiar and yet far away. The warmth of his body is like nothing else I have ever felt as I hold myself against him.
I think I must still be dreaming. Nothing this good ever happens to me. Soon the fog of sleep will lift and I will wake alone on my bed, but for just right now I don't care. I weep against him and hear small answering cries of his own, as small kisses are placed on my hair.
He quiets me, running a hand over my hair, taking me in his arms and rocking me gently.
"It doesn't matter," he answers.
"Like hell it doesn't," I grumble through my tears, holding onto him tightly. "I've needed you."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm here now, and I'll stay if that's what you want," he murmurs in my ear.
"I thought you were dead, I thought you didn't love me anymore," I say against him.
He is quiet for a long time, holding me until it starts to rain again.
"Let's go inside," he says at length and I let him pull me to my feet and support me as I try to make my way up the stairs, limping on my cut foot. Finally we make it back across the kitchen and into the living room where he sits me down on the couch.
Banzai watches us guiltily from his bed, ears tucked down, head lowered in submission. He whines and trots over to the couch to lick at my hand. Ran gives him a wary glance, but doesn't seem to mind too much.
"Do you have anything I can treat your cuts with?" he says quietly, indicating my two small wounds.
I nod. "Yeah, there is a first aid kit in the cupboard by the fridge," I answer. It feels so stupid to talk to him about boring normal things. I feel like there're so many more important things to be said. But it was always like Ran to think of the practical things first.
I settle back into the cushions and try to make things sink in, but I'm still floating around on my superficial emotions. It's Ran, -Ran-, I keep telling myself. Here, with me, taking care of me. So why do I feel so calm? I close my eyes and listen to him moving around in the kitchen.
"Kenny?" I hear the front door open again, footsteps in the back hall. "Sweety, are you here? I'm sorry I'm late, hon, but the store was suddenly overrun, I have no idea what got into the people in this town this afternoon. Ken… who the hell are you? Where's Ken?!"
I chuckle to myself. I wish I could see this exchange.
"Answer me you ragamuffin, what have you done with my Kenny?! And why is there blood on the front stoop? *gasp* How could you, you beast?!"
"No, it's not like that! I'm a friend of Ken's," I hear Ran say hurriedly.
"Ken doesn't have any friends!" I think Mary just hit him with her purse.
"Ken, back me up! Argh!"
"Brute! What have you done with him? Where is he?!" More sounds of Ran feebly trying to come up with explanations while Mary hits him.
"Ow! Woman, leave me alone!" Ran growls.
"Oh, how dare you!"
Chuckling I grab the back of the couch and hoist myself up, peering over the back. "Mary! Mary, it's alright! I'm right here, don't worry. Ran is a friend of mine from Nam," I call, laughing under my breath.
She jumps and turns towards me, her hand still clamped down around a fistful of Ran's jacket. "Oh, Kenny, I didn't see you there." She turns back to Ran and lets go of his jacket. "Sorry, my dear," she coos, smoothing his clothing, "but I thought you were a thief or something. Well, no harm done. You must have flown with Ken then, isn't that nice. My son was in the war too, but he never came home. Well now I just don't know quite what to do. I've made a fool of myself and I only brought enough for two. Ken, you didn't tell me you were having company."
"I didn't know I was having company," I say, looking distinctly at Ran.
He looks back and me and for a moment it's just like it used to be. We're caught in each other, and I don't ever want to let go.
I don't know if Mary notices and I don't care. After a moment she takes a deep breath and goes on.
"Well, that's nice, and after you had been having such a hard day too. Well, I'll leave the groceries here then and be on my way. It was nice meeting you, err… Ronald?"
Ran tears his eyes from mine and takes Mary's hand which is offered to him. "No, just Ran. I'm sure I will see you again."
Mary nods absently and then rushes over to the couch to give me a hug. That done she says goodbye, and still looking slightly confused, leaves, calling over her shoulder. "I set the groceries in the back hall. Have a good time catching up, you two."
As soon as the door closes I dissolve into a fit of giggles and sink back down onto the couch. I hear Ran grumble something about weird old ladies and then start to chuckle to himself.
When he comes back to the couch he is holding the first aid kit and a few wet paper towels.
"Who was that?"
"Mary, my boss. She was going to make me dinner tonight."
"She said you had a bad day. Why is that?"
I smile up at him distantly and as I gaze at his beautiful, living face my smile wavers as tears begin to gather in my eyes. "Without you, every day has been a bad day," I say softly.
He looks down at me, emotions barely held in check swimming in his eyes and then he falls to his knees beside the couch, dropping the first aid kit, leaving it forgotten. He buries his head against my stomach, kissing me through the fabric of my shirt, crying softly as he does so, his hands come up to grasp me, as I feel his trembling breath against my body.
"Hidaka… I thought you didn't want to see me, I thought it was over. All this time I thought… and now… So much wasted time," he murmurs against me.
I reach down to run my fingers though his hair, my tears falling to answer his own. "What happened? Why would you think that? I looked…" I choke, "I looked for you everywhere I could and you weren't anywhere. I didn't know if you were dead or if you hated me for what I put you through in the crash. You were just gone, and you never looked for me, I never heard from you," I whispered.
He looks up slowly and meets my eyes, giving me a pained, lost look. His fine, red brows furrow together and he stares at me silently. "I know. But, Ken, I… It's a long story."
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off, shaking his head, holding up a hand. "Wait, let me fix your hand and foot first. I think you've got glass embedded in the cut," he says pushing up off the couch.
Ran doctors my wounds patiently, and I simply lie back with my eyes closed, trying to push the questions out of my mind, and reveling in the feel of his hands on my body again. I don't even mind the sharp pangs that run through my foot and up my leg as he removes more than one piece of glass. Whether there is pain or not, his touch, his presence, his –being- is pure pleasure.
"Done," he says in that deep, even voice I know so well.
I nod, looking up at him with soft, hooded, and tired eyes. I want to drink him in, just lie there forever and absorb his presence.
He seems to be content to do the same, leaning towards me slowly to take my hand and hold it tightly. Our fingers lace together and I can't help but notice how much rougher his hands seem to me, they feel tired and worried. My mind turns towards wondering, and I think about where he might have been, what he might have been doing in those five years we've been apart.
I feel my breath hitch and the tell tale stinging in my eyes, and I know I am in danger of turning to tears again. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, lying back, my fingers tightening around his. My breath quavers and my lips quiver.
"I can't believe that you're here," I say, my voice trembling. "I just can't believe it. Why didn't you come for me sooner, Ran? Why did you leave me alone here? Where have you been?" My voice is little more than a soundless breath by the time I am done talking. His fingers tighten within mine and I hear him quiet me softly.
"We need to talk," he says after a time, tugging on my arm. "How about some coffee?"
Surprised by his sudden change in topic I open my eyes and look up at him. He smiles dimly and tugs on my arm again. "I'll make some coffee and we can talk."
I let him pull me off the couch and walk, with him supporting me, to my kitchen table. Sitting down, I pull away from the warmth of his body reluctantly and wait, watching his back as he walks back to the kitchen.
"Where is your coffee maker?" he asks absently and then I hear the sound of crunching glass and he looks down, back peddling hastily. "Crap, I gotta clean up this mess," he grumbles under his breath, ducking down behind the counter. I hear him picking through the remnants of my water glass.
"The coffee maker is on the counter. You want me to do that, clean that up, that is?" I call to empty air.
He chuckles. "No, I've cleaned up after you before. I can do it again, Hidaka. Besides, you don't need to be walking around on your foot."
I watch the counter top, unable to see Ran, and I find myself becoming unsettled. "Ran, do that later, please. Just come and sit with me," I call.
He looks up over the counter and grins. "Don't be impatient. You don't want that mongrel of yours walking through this mess do you? Forget the fact that he wanted to rip out my throat not long ago."
"He was scared. Just make the coffee and come talk to me," I grumble, putting my head on my arms, watching as he ducks down again, going back to cleaning up the mess. After a few moments I can no longer stand the fact that I can't see him and get up, grumbling as I limp towards the kitchen, rounding the counter to stand and look down at him.
I stoop at his side and duck my hands in among his to help pick at the broken shards. Being so close to him causes me to tremble. Watching him out of the corner of my eyes it begins to dawn on me that even if this really is Ran, which it is, I know that to be true, he is different from the man I knew five years ago. We were together for such a short time really. A few months, half a year at most. And yet it was that time that I think most distinctly of as my life. But who are we now, with so many years and happenings between us? I'm not even sure who I am now, so how can I have any idea where to start as far as knowing him again goes? He smiles to himself as I crouch beside him and then he starts to bat at my hands.
"You're hands are shaking, you're going to cut yourself," he says flatly.
"I will not," I grumbled, shouldering him playfully.
He goes on grabbing at my hands, trying to push them away, and before I know it we are giggling like children, play wrestling with our arms and hands. I am suddenly reminded of another game of wrestling we played. A game that ended in our lovemaking.
"Ran…" I say softly, caught off guard by the sudden flood of strong emotions that courses through my body.
But he's still playing. Next thing I know he's pushed me back onto my rear and I have to scoot away, backing myself up against the lower cupboards before he can tackle me. I eye him warily as he turns and leans forward onto his knees.
"You always manage to end up where I want you of your own accord," he says in a low voice, grinning, stalking towards me on all fours.
I don't trust myself to speak or even barely breathe as he pulls himself up between my legs, placing one hand on my face. His deep, dark eyes, hooded and infinitely soft meet mine, smiling at me, twinkling in a way that I don't recognize. I can feel the warm heat spread over my cheeks and I begin to blush. He makes me feel so exposed.
"I just realized something," he says huskily.
"What's that?" I ask a little nervously.
"I haven't kissed you hello, yet," he answers caressing my face.
"Oh."
"I guess I'd better."
"Guess so."
My eyes flutter closed, my lips part, waiting, expectant of his touch. Ripples chase though my stomach, my heart pounding, beating so hard that I can hear the rushing of my blood in my ears. I sit, anticipating him, the longings and unanswered desires of half a decade causing my breath to come short and my whole body to tingle with the dawning realization that the waiting is over.
Like the faintest, softest fluttering of wings or silk I feel the first, tentative inquiry of his lips. His warm breath mingles with mine as we hesitate for a moment, breathing each other in, letting the feel of the impending kiss wash over us. And then I don't want to wait any longer and I press forward to push against him, sliding gently against the yielding flesh of his mouth. My blood warms as our lips slowly but surely intensify their quest for each other. Cutoff whimpers and urgent moans somehow fight their way past and between our mouths as we become entangled in each other. Arms and hands reach out to grasp clothing and hair, to caress bare skin and hold tightly to what feels so desperately like it might be a gray, fading dream.
Before long we are both completely lost to each other. It feels like that first time, that rain drenched night on the training field when Ran took my pills and told me he wouldn't let me destroy myself. That was the first time he saved my soul and now I feel even more urgently than then that he is doing the same. I let his arms close around me, pulling me forward into his lap and open my mouth to him, letting passion rule me as his tongue slips past my lips. We give and take, whispering senseless sentiments during desperate, breathless breaks.
And then suddenly the moment passes and I find myself laying my head against his shoulder, burying my face against his neck, breathing heavily, taking in the scent of his skin.
He continues to kiss me, placing both quick and lingering kisses on my hair and along the curve of my neck.
"Ran," I sigh softly, closing my eyes against the emotions that threaten to engulf me and send me back to tears. I don't want to cry anymore. With him here I never want to have to cry again. "I love you. I never stopped loving you," I whisper.
Ran chokes and squeezes me more tightly against his body. "I never thought I'd hear you say that again. For the longest time I thought you were lost to me."
"Why? Why would you think that? Why, Ran? I looked and waited and never heard from you," I cry softly. "I didn't know if you were alive or dead, and eventually the waiting was too hard, I couldn't go on willing myself to hold on, so I gave up. You never came for me and I gave up." My words choke me, tasting foul and hateful in my mouth. I don't want to sound bitter and angry, but a part of me is, not really at him so much, but at life, at everything.
He rocks me to and fro, holding me tightly, and it seems to me that he wants to speak but can't find the words.
Then finally he sighs and presses his cheek against my hair. "We have a lot to talk about."
For a few more minutes we sit together, not willing to press the issues, or dive into exactly what that long talk is going to entail. Then I pull back and kiss him quickly, keeping my eyes open and locked on his. "Were you going to make coffee?"
He smiles and reaches up quickly, taking my face in his hands and pulling me back into another kiss. I can't help but chuckle and I feel his smiling lips against mine. He playfully bites my bottom lip and then rocks back to look at me.
"Well I was going to, but it's kinda hard with you in my lap," he says.
"Ha ha ha."
Using the counter for leverage I stand up and reach my hand down to him, pulling him up after me. His eyes laugh silently as he looks at me and I pull back from the circle of his arms.
"What?"
He shakes his head, red hair shifting smoothly around his face. "Nothing. I just… you look older."
I roll my eyes. "I am older. Five years older," I say bluntly. "Five years, Ran."
He looks at me intently and his smile fades a bit. "That's half a decade. So much to talk about. Ken…"
I cut him off. "Just make the coffee, we can talk a little later. And while you're at it go take your shoes off while I finish cleaning up this mess."
"What's wrong with my shoes?"
"Nothing, except that this is my house and I don't let people wear shoes inside. That's the way I was brought up. Don't argue with me."
"Hn. Heaven forbid."
Eventually I get the rest of the glass up off the floor and then lean back against the counter, watching Ran, taking in his every movement, every difference and similarity to the man I used to know as he goes around my kitchen in his stocking feet. We don't talk. Ran hums and whistles to himself under his breathe and I can't help but be amazed that this is the same man I used to know. It seems as if there is a huge weight gone from him. Even in our few moments alone together in Nam, he was never this playful or lighthearted. I can't help but think that in contrast I am now the opposite. So much of my youthfulness, my light, carefree attitude is gone. My world is so much heavier than it was those five years ago.
I drop my eyes and trace the patterns in the linoleum. The wheels in my head slowly turn, bringing up this and that, examining angles and uncertainties.
"Cream and sugar?"
I look up, startled by the sound of his voice.
"What?"
He cocks his head. "I asked if you want cream and sugar. Where did you go?"
"Nowhere, just thinking."
"It's not good for you, thinking that is."
"What?"
He chuckles. "Never mind. You still haven't answered my question."
"Oh… just black."
Shrugging he turns away and looks around the kitchen. "Where do you keep the coffee cups?"
"Glasses are in the cupboard by the sink," I say, my voice trailing off as he turns towards the sink area. And then I realize my mistake. Reaching after him I cry, "Wait, I'll get them!"
But it's too late. He gives me a funny look and then reaches for the cupboard. I see him pause, his eyes finally falling on the backsplash and my collection of prescription pill bottles. I tense up. No, I don't want him to see that. I don't want him to know. Oh God, why did I let him see?
His hand falls back to the counter and he reaches towards one of the bottles. I can hear the oh too familiar sound of little plastic pills rattling against each other as he picks it up to read the label. I watch him, stuck in some morbid fascination, wondering what he will say, what he will do, but when his head begins to turn towards me I turn my face away, putting my head in one hand, defensively crossing my other arm across my chest. I can feel his eyes on me now, but I refuse to look back at him. I don't want to see the anger or the pity or the disgust. Whatever it is that's there, I don't want to see it.
The hair on the back of my neck prickles and I ready myself with a rebuttal to whatever it is he has to say. I wait, readying myself for his words of rebuke, but they never come. I hear him sigh softly through his nose and set the bottle back down.
"I'll pour the coffee, why don't you sit down?" His voice is low and tired sounding. I hate it.
Without a word I pad out of the kitchen and go to sit down, but I go past the table and back into the living room. Despondently I plunk myself down on the couch again and try to clean my mind of all the doubts and worries that are chasing around inside of it. I put my head in my hands. How can I ever explain to him how I feel, how I've felt and fallen apart all these years? He'll think I'm weak. But I am weak. So weak without him.
I don't hear him as he comes up beside me holding my coffee mug in front of me, leaning over the back of the couch. Looking up I take it silently and warm my hands around it. A gentle, teasing, tingling feeling runs through me as I feel his long fingers run through my hair. He doesn't say anything and his silence is painful.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't be," he answers softly, rubbing the back of my neck. "We'll work things out."
He shifts and comes to sit down next to me, hanging his head, eyes trained on the carpet as he too warms his hands against his cup. I feel his hand come to rest on my arm and I look over to meet his eyes. He smiles again, but I can tell it's forced.
"Where do you want to start?" he asks.
Taking a deep sigh I try to think of something to say, some place where I want to start, but my mind is overcrowded with questions. All I can think to say is, "At the beginning. Tell me what happened to you after they took you away."
He sighs and then sits back, wrapping one hand around his coffee cup, putting the other one in his lap. He thinks for a moment and takes a sip of his coffee and then starts to talk.
"In truth I don't remember much about the crash. It's all just fuzzy, you probably have a better idea of what happened than me. I remember waking up in a hospital in the middle of the night, all hooked up to machines and tubes. A nurse on the night shift came in doing her rounds and found me awake. The doctors told me later that none of them thought I would ever wake up. When I got there I was practically dead I guess, but like I said I don't remember any of that."
"How did they treat you? You had broken ribs, and your lung..." I trail off, remembering again that day and all the horror and suffering and pain I went through with and for Ran and he for me. He didn't even remember what had happened and here all this time I thought he resented me for the pain I made him hold onto. Somewhere along the line it was all becoming a sick joke.
Ran takes another breath and stands up abruptly and starts to take off his jacket. I watch him curiously, but don't say anything. He places the jacket over the back of the couch, and then tugs up the hem of his plain t-shirt. Slowly he exposes his abdomen to me, and my eyes widen slightly at the sight. His skin is still so pale and smooth that I can't keep myself from reaching out to touch him, but it isn't the perfection that really draws my attention, it's the imperfection. A long, uneven scar runs the length of his ribcage, almost right down the center, but just slightly off. My fingers wander lazily over his skin and then trace down the length of the long, dark line. It feels like he tenses under my touch, but I can't be sure.
"The broken ribs tore up my lung when I was breathing. They had to remove it," he says flatly. "They put metal pins in my ribs to keep them in place, but no one really expected them to heal. Sometimes they still bother me, but… I'm alive, so I can't really complain."
"Oh, Ran," I breath as my fingers continue to feel over the smooth scar. "I fought so hard to keep you breathing. Did I? Was I wrong?" I can't think of what else I want to say, or where my train of thought should be going, so I fall silent and close my eyes. My hand falls away and I hear him lower his shirt, the soft sound or rustling cotton.
"You saved my life, Ken. I'm alive because of you. I don't care about this," he touches his chest with one hand, "because I'm alive to share this with you now," he says quietly and I feel his hands in my hair again, prompting me to look up. There are tears forming in my eyes again, and looking at him like this is almost painful. With a small, soft cry I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him tightly against me, resting my head against his stomach, breathing him in so deeply that he fills every part of me. I am reminded of that moment we'd shared in Nam behind the barracks, but now it seems our roles are reversed. How did that keep happening?
I don't want to let go of him, and I tell him so. I just want to hold onto him, to feel him and know that he's there and real, not some feverish delusion caused by my tired, wasted mind or the chemicals I willingly put into it. I cry softly against him, my eyes aching from all the crying I've already done today. Letting me keep my arms around him he sits beside me again and pulls me against him, pulling me down until we are both lying on the couch and my head is against his heart. I listen to the soft, rhythmic sound of his life and fall in love with him yet again.
He talks a little more about his time in the hospital, his rehabilitation, all the time he was bedridden, forbidden to walk around in fear that his ribs wouldn't heal right. How strange it felt to be always short of breath until he got used to breathing with only one lung. For some reason this strikes me as both painful and funny in a way.
When he finishes I pick up the line and tell him about my last few months at Pang Nuan, about what happened to Max and Jei and any of the other guys I thought he'd care about. And then I tell him about my search for him after the war was over. How I looked hopelessly through the medical records even though I knew pretty well that there wasn't going to be anything, about all the personnel I tried to talk to and get a hold of and the letter I'd received.
I know he wants me to say something about the crash, about what happened when we were shot down. He wants me to talk, to tell him about it, but I don't really feel like it. But how can I just sit here and say nothing? "You really don't remember anything about the crash?"
"Nothing," he says quietly. "Just… I just know it happened, and then nothing."
"It was… bad. The crash was bad. The gun broke off, you know, pinned you to the wall, broke most of your ribs on one side I think. Punctured lung and all that. I remember…all the blood you kept coughing up. I kept forcing you to stay awake and breathe. I didn't want to be alone. And you kept looking at me like you wanted to die, you were is so much pain. Your eyes… they hated me sometimes. I was sure I was going to lose you one way or another."
A sort of bleakness settles in my veins, just thinking about it makes me feel empty and blank. I think that if I sit still long enough all the pain and grief will all drain out my fingertips. Everything feels so heavy.
His hand touches my arm again. "You can't lose me."
A bitter, ironic little laugh builds in my chest and escapes, sharp and brittle. "But I did. I lost you for five years. Don't tell me that I can't lose you, Ran. That's a lie."
"Ken…"
"What? What do you have to say to me? If you've been alive all this time, why did you abandon me? Where did you go, where have you been?!" I cry desperately, suddenly overwhelmed with anger and bitterness. I push myself up and stare down at him, my eyes hard and fevered.
He props himself up on his elbows and stares at me hard. "I never meant to 'abandon' you, Ken. I thought…"
"What?! What did you think, Fujimiya?" I snap. "Did you think I would get over all of it? That I'd be ok on my own? Did you think that it wouldn't fall apart if you just stayed silent and let me believe what I wanted to?!"
His eyes flash angry. In a way I'm almost relieved, almost pulled back into nostalgia by the familiar, hard edged glare that he gives me. "That's now what I thought. Listen to me," he grates, reaching up and grabbing my forearms.
"I'm listening, what did you –think-, Ran?" I say again.
"I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me. I thought you wanted me to leave you alone," he answers in a low, dangerous voice.
I ignore it. I give an unamused, sarcastic little laugh. It's so much easier to be angry than to go on crying. So often I feel nothing. "Why the hell would you think that? Ran I was in love with you! And after the war was over I couldn't handle being without you! I couldn't handle not knowing. Not knowing drove me crazy, literally! All those pills… I'm not normal anymore, Ran! I have… I have -disorders-," I cry. "That's what being without you did to me! And you have the nerve to tell me that you thought I didn't want to be with you?!"
I feel frantic, enclosed, my breathing becomes shallow and I push away from him, my hand coming up to my forehead. I struggle to stand; I can't be that close to him. I'm too hot, I feel dizzy.
"Ken, hold on," he says reaching up to grab my arm.
"No! Let go of me!" I shout, wrenching out of his grip, but this only makes me feel worse, nauseous. "I need air. Oh, God," I breathe. Getting up I stumble away from the couch and feel my knees begin to give in. Slowly I sink to the floor and kneel there, clutching my chest with one hand, pushing my hair, which feels like it is clinging maddeningly to my forehead, up with the other.
Somewhere in the back of my head I can hear Banzai barking. This hasn't happened in so long. I haven't had an attack in so long. I knew I should have taken a pill. I can feel the irrational anxiety building in my mind and the cold sweat that breaks out on my body as a result.
Ran's hands on my back, his voice calling my name, but I can't really hear him. The deafening sounds of chopper blades and gunfire, screams and shells going off fill my ears. So distant and yet right here, right now. It never ends.
"Ken? Ken?! Are you ok? What do you need?!" he cries, coming to kneel in front of me, pushing my shoulders up so that he can look into my face.
I can't say anything, I can't form words I just stare at him with wide, scared eyes. My body shakes, my breathing comes in quick little gasps.
"Oh my God. I'll call for help," he says under his breath and then begins to pull away.
No, don't leave me! Reaching out frantically I clamp down on his arm and dig my fingers in. I shake my head. "N-no!" I managed.
His eyes soften, but are still filled with worry. He pulls himself up to my side and supports me as my heart begins to calm and my breathing begins to even out. Slowly the world comes back into focus as I feel his hand gently run over my back in broad circles. The sound of his voice soothes me and chases away the irrational fears that hold my mind in a vice.
When the anxiety attack is over I kneel, nearly doubled over again, panting.
"I'm sorry," I hiss.
"Why? Are you ok?" he asks urgently pulling me up again, coming to kneel in front of me again.
Gulping I nod and let my hand fall from my forehead. He runs his hand up in its place, pushing away my bangs so that he can see my eyes. I blink at him rapidly, trying to clear the last bit of fogginess from my vision. He looks at me longingly, so much fear and sadness and trepidation in his eyes. I feel his fingers trace over the scar on my forehead and he notices it for the first time.
He whispers my name softly and then hangs his head. "I had no idea it was like this, Ken. I swear, I didn't know."
With a soft cry I throw myself forward against him and wrap my arms around his neck. He answers my need for him, and pulls me against him, kissing my ear.
"Do you see?" I sob. "Do you see what being without you has done to me? I'm not strong anymore, Ran. I was never strong enough for this. Please, just tell me why you didn't find me. Tell me why, when this is what happened to me without you, you thought I wanted it to be over."
"Because you didn't answer my letters," he says softly.
"I never got any letters!" I cry. "There was nothing to answer!"
He holds me more tightly. "I know that now. I didn't know then. I'm sorry, Ken. Please believe me. In those letters I told you everything, I poured my soul into them. And when you didn't answer at first I told you that it was all right if you had realized how foolish we were. I told you that if that was the case to simply never answer, and I'd know, because I didn't want to hear. And you never answered, so I got on with my life."
"There was nothing to answer," I moan. "There was nothing. I never heard."
"I know, Ken. I know that now. I know," he answers softly, soothingly.
"How, how do you know?" I ask against the crook of his neck.
He is silent for a while and then finally answers, an unmistakable sadness in his voice. "Youji told me."
For a moment I just let his words process and then I pull away, ignoring the tears on my cheeks. "What?"
"Youji…told me… everything."
"Told you what?" I ask blankly.
Ran takes a deep sigh and then begins to brush the tears away with his thumbs. He just looks at me for a while until I shake my head, shedding his hands. "Don't. Just tell me."
"Let's go back to the couch," he says, holding me at arm's length. I let him pull me up off the floor, leading me back to the couch. I still feel a little lightheaded, so I stumble slightly. I keep my eyes locked on him even as he pulls me back down onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me down to lie on my side next to him, sandwiched between him and the back cushions. Before I can stop him he starts to kiss me softly, as if he is suddenly overcome, unable to resist. Tempted as I am to just give in and let all my weariness fade away in his arms I can't forget his words, or simply let them pass.
Turning my head away I bring my arms up between us and then glare at him. "Tell me. Don't play some game with me, Fujimiya."
He sighs. "Alright."
"What did you mean, Youji told you?"
He takes another deep breath and then locks his eyes with mine. "About a year ago I decided I wanted to find my mother, because I was tired to having nothing but holes in my life."
"Ran…" I say darkly.
"I promise this will tie in with Youji, just hear me out."
I look at him warily and then nod, nestling down into his arms, tucking my head under his chin. "A year ago I decided to find my mother. It really wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I tracked down some of her old friends from our neighborhood in New York and some people she had known in Seattle and they finally led me to her. She was living in San Francisco with her husband and their kids, half siblings I didn't even know I had. Meeting her again and finding these people, knowing that I really wasn't ever going to be a real part of her life again really made me realize how much I hated being alone. I got so depressed and lonely there in San Fran, it hurt, to know that I was nothing to her but some mistake she made. I mean, she was nice enough, she was very surprised to see me, but I think her family was more surprised. Anyway. I remembered while I was in San Fran that you were from there and I started thinking about you, something I usually tried very hard not to do. But it was like this huge snowball effect. And then for days all I could think about was seeing you again. I thought that maybe since there had been time, you wouldn't mind seeing me. I even toyed with the idea that maybe we still had a chance. So I looked you up. Well, your family I guess. I met your mother. I told her I was a friend of yours from Nam, but I kinda think she had me figured out. She said that you'd moved north, that she hadn't even seen you since you got back from your tour. But she had an address and a number, and I left San Francisco feeling better than I had in years."
Here he pauses and I don't know what to say, or what any of this has to do with Youji. I shift uncomfortably in his arms. "You saw my mother? How is she?"
"She misses you. All she did was talk about you. She wanted to know all about what we did in the war. She didn't know anything. I met your brother and sister too."
"Kotaro and Sayaka?" I ask, a bit dazedly.
"Eh? Well they introduced themselves as Corey and Sarah, but I guess maybe those are-."
"Their English names, yeah. Heh, by the time my mom had me she decided she'd just find a name that fit both cultures. She was tired of having to explain why her kids had two names."
"Ah."
"How are they?" I ask sadly. I haven't really thought about my family in a very long time, other than to be annoyed by my mother's messages. Her messages… if I had answered them would she have told me about Ran? Would I have know he was alive that much sooner, been given hope and closure already? Ah, there was no point in dwelling on the might have beens.
"Good, I guess. I think your sister is engaged, and your brother didn't really want to talk to me."
I laugh hollowly. "Yeah, that's Corey. We used to be really close, but he… was really affected when he found out about Kase and I. That I'm…
Ran pulls me closer and kisses my hair. "Yeah." He takes a deep breath, allowing me a moment to dwell in my loss and then goes on with his story. "When I got home, the first thing I did was call Youji. We stayed in touch ever since I woke up in the hospital."
"What?!"
"Shhh. Just listen. I told him all about San Fran and my mother and your mother and finding your address and how I wanted to see you even if you rejected me. I didn't care, because I wanted some closure, or just to see your face. I was really excited about it, fearful, but excited. At first Youji didn't think it was a good idea, and I couldn't understand why he was being such an ass about it, after all he'd told me that he fell out of touch with you when Pan Nuan was closed. I thought he'd happy," he says.
Again I shift uncomfortably in Ran's arms, biting my tongue to keep from snapping at the pieces of information I know to be false. But he asked me to be quiet and listen, and so I will.
"We ended up getting in a rather volatile fight about it and in the end I hung up on him and we didn't talk for weeks. He kept telling me to just leave well enough alone, that I didn't need to go dragging up old hurts and wounds. If you wanted to see me, you would have made it obvious a long time ago. He kept telling me it was for the best to let sleeping dogs lie and let the past be the past. He kept saying he didn't want me to get hurt again like what happened with Yuushi. I kept trying to tell him that it was not knowing or understanding what had happened between us that was hurting the most.
"I grew so agitated that I became doubtful about seeing you, and my eagerness waned. Then Youji called me from out of the blue and said that he'd been doing some thinking and had something to tell me. He told me that he knew all along where you were. He said that he'd never told me, but that you'd been transferred out of Pang Nuan, that he'd stopped my letters to you, and lied to you about my probable whereabouts. That he told you that he didn't know how or where I was, and that he was still in contact with you. He wanted me to know that he had done this because he knew I would go and see you no matter what he said, and he wanted me to be prepared for how I would find you, and he didn't want there to be any more hurt and confusion between us. He said that you'd never expressed any desire to end things between us or any regrets which he told me you had. He said he thought it was for the best when he did it. He didn't want to see either of us hurt by the other, or end up regretting stupid mistakes that could ruin our lives. I can't make excuses for him, but in the end I guess I kind of understood why he did what he did."
All through Ran's speech I've felt the blood slowly drain from my face. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Youji? The Lieutenant? He… he –lied- to me, all that time ago, he lied to me? He knew where Ran was all along and he lied to me to keep me from him, to keep me from knowing. Did he think that I would just shrug it off, chalk it up to another loss? Maybe he thought I would or that I could since I'd already lost so many. Maybe he figured I'd grown immune. I just lay there next to Ran and let it all sink in. My head buzzed and my brain hurt. Somewhere I dimly realized that that ABBA record was long over.
"What about that letter?" I asked dimly, not really realizing I was still able to think coherently.
Ran shook his head. "I don't know about that. It's possible that Youji asked whoever wrote it to cover his tracks or it's possible that it was real. The government doesn't like people poking in their dirty laundry, but that doesn't mean that Kudou himself didn't have the jurisdiction to tell you what happened to me."
It all just hits me at once. The unnecessary mess I've made of my life. How avoidable all this pain has been for both of us. How fucked everything became and for what? For nothing. All because of the misplaced actions of one person, one son of a bitch who thought he knew what was best for two people he didn't understand. Youji's words come back to me.
"If you ever fall in love, and I don't recommend it, but if you do, don't do -anything- to fuck it up. Because if you do, you will have fucked up everything in your life for the rest of eternity."
Well, Youji, I took your advice. I fell in love, against your recommendation and I did my best not to fuck it up. But I guess in the end I didn't have to, because you did it for me.
I don't even have the energy left to be angry. I feel like my emotions have been spent. I can't cry I can't scream I can't do anything but lie here next to him and close my eyes against the mounting feeling of futility that my life is gaining.
"How could he?" I whisper. "Then all this… all this has been for nothing. The pills, the doctors, the loneliness. All for nothing, Ran. Suffering so needlessly. You never were at Vung Tao then?"
He sighs and shakes his head. "No. They never took me to Vung Tao. They took me to Cam Ranh. That's where I went through treatment and my rehabilitation. That's why the records you looked through came up empty."
Sighing something that feels strangely like despair I fist at his shirt and swallow the tears and cries that build in my throat. I don't want to fall apart again. I don't want to lose control. If I just hold onto him, I know I'll make it through.
"Hey. Hey," he whispers softly, pulling me against him, wrapping his arms around me yet again, allowing me to find comfort in that embrace as I have done so many times in the past. "Listen to me, Hidaka. It doesn't matter now. Everything we've been through that's all in the past. It's behind us. I was so happy when I found out that you might still love me. You will never know how scared I was to come here today. Most of me still believed you would turn me away."
"I never could," I whimper against him, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
"We've been through so much, but we're together now. Everything will work out."
Looking up at him, finding his eyes so full of love and certainty that it is a little overwhelming, I ask softly. "How do you know?"
He smiles and pulls me closer, fitting his lips to mine, leaving one sweet, lingering kiss upon me. "Because it has to. It's like all us vets say: 'all that's left is heaven, for we've done our time in hell.'"
~*owari*~
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Afterthoughts: Well, there you have it folks. The fic is officially over. Well at least that was the last official chapter. It's been a lot of fun to write and a lot of fun to research, and a lot of fun to get to share with everyone. I'm really glad that it was a well received and liked as it was, really, made me happy. *nods nods* I had wanted to go through my reviews and answer any questions that were there, but I realized that there was really only one question that hadn't managed to answer itself over the course of the fic. LOL. And that was something Keeshe Kal'daka brought up randomly many many chapters ago when she very first reviewed. She asked what kind of dog Ken has. O.o And well… hmmm… I guess Banzai is a mutt. Definitely not a Golden Retriever as speculated by Keeshe, because well if the truth be told I hate Golden Retrievers. -_-;;; I had two, and both were hyper and slobbery and had no brains whatsoever. Anyway so I guess Banzai is best described simply as a mutt, with long, thick fur, which is black and reddish brown, a rather long muzzle, and half-pricked ears. Just some poor puppy Ken picked up at the pound when he was feeling especially lonely and abandoned by the world. *pets Ken* Now you know.
Other than that there really isn't much to say now. I gave you guys your happy ending even those of you who were hoping for tragedy *pets Pink Bunny*. Sorry, but I am not truly capable of writing evilness, despite what you all might have said about me at various times. LOL. So most of you can be happy and those of you who aren't can pout about it, but oh well.
Finally I'd just like to thank everybody who took the time to tell me what they thought and reviewed, and even to thank everyone else out there who took the time to read but never dropped me a note. *glares at the lurkers*
So thank you: Susan, Kaen-chan, Koneko Bombay, Katarzyna K Yue, Lilla, Sara-chan, Cerana, Mystique Monique (apparently also known as Mina), Fuzzish, Siberian, Cherub Katan, Hoshii, Shavica, Hyperventilator ("egotistical prat" eh? *giggles*), Kimurii_demon, Teteiyus, Shime (we should e-mail again ;_;), Mikoto the Gnome Girl, the "Anonymous Asthmatic Person" whoever you may be, Akai Yuki, Fiasco, Kyri, Chibi Koneko, MooMooMilk, Sniffles, Marsupial, Kalina Quantum, Kia, Keeshe Kal'daka, Panzer Bride, Atsureki, Meron Pan Daisuki, Niqusrai, Quatre's Angel, Cindy, Silver Eclipse, Jin, Yosomi, Gen X, Mierin, Sleepy Elf, Nekojita, Boscofaith, Redemption-moon, and my very first reviewer for this fic ever Li-chan. And then the random people who left sentences/nothing/nonsense conglomerations as names, I thank and love you too. And I would love to talk to any and all of you, so feel free to drop me a line or something if you want… if you deem me worthy, or whatever. *points to bio thingy* My addresses etc are up there.
And most wondrous special thanks to all my awesome and much loved friends who I have met through my writing here:
Lilas most of all for putting up with my incessant cyber babble the longest and for beta-ing for me, even if she does have a tendency to abuse me and threaten me with my life upon occasion, even if she calls me a "fucking liar, slave driver bitch," and even had the gumption to come and meet me in person O_O.
Fei because she is awesome and my soul mate ~_^, because she likes ABBA and the Eagles, because she stays up until all hours of the night just to chat to little old –me-, and because she has always been the most awesome sounding board for my cracked out ideas. ALL FOR YOU!! ~_^ (I'm so bad.)
Yaoke cause she was the first person to show an actual interest in my writing and has deigned me worthy to grace her website and has even let me do some rather cracked out things for said website, although I know not when I will ever get them done, and also because she helps me manage the bishie ranch, and lets me chew on Ran's hair.
Makoto who is always ever so positive and patient and fun and supportive and praises me way too much for my own good, even if she never updates the RPG she asked me to join and got me all excited about LOL. *pats pats* And because she knows that Legolas is a sexy beast, which he is.
Andrea cause she chats me up online and makes me happy when she does.
Ember-fang cause she as well puts up with my weirdness.
VulHashiba/TK Date cause she understands the sexiness of gay vampires *waves a little Vinny flag*.
Pink Bunny who is too much fun to talk to for her own good, even if she sucks on my earlobe and wants to sexer me -_-;;;.
And last but not least Ponder, who, though she has never actually reviewed –this- fic *glares*, did deem me worthy enough to talk to online, which brought me much joy, and at one point in time gave me great ideas for Baby Talk… which I never really finished -_-;;;;;;;;;;;;.
And you know what? So many of you people really don't care about any of this, but I care, and I hope they care. So deal with my pompousness. *sticks out tongue* Hehehe, dang I feel like Halle Berry…..
And now is a great time for all you lurkers and everybody else to review for the first and/or last time! Tell me what you thought of the whole thing, if you please, I would love to know. Goodness, badness, randomness, whatever. Jya ne! ^_^