Author: Mirrordance
E-mail: mirror_dance2@hotmail.com
Title: Bed of Roses
Type: part 4/6
Spoilers: generally, with references to entire series
Warnings: drama, angst, language, violence, yaoi
Teaser: After two years of semi-retirement from Kritiker, Ran and Yoji return to action when they discover the new target is a murderous, out-of-control Siberian
"Bed of Roses"
a WKff by Mirrordance
don't own anybody…
CHAPTER FOUR: Porcelain
The wide warehouse was lined by a slim, second-floor balcony facing its center. It was very typical of those sorts they had custom-built for high-stakes betting on fights, which would go on in the most brutal fashion on the floor below. Sometimes dogs fought, sometimes these mechanical cars, though usually it was bare-fisted people fighting to the death. The crowds would watch on the second floor, thick and exclusive they were, with cash changing hands quickly, as if blood-money was so easy to come by.
Tonight, there were no crowds to watch, but the seemingly-twin shadows of Balinese and Abyssinian on the second floor. Below, Siberian didn't fight so much for his life, but just to cause another's death.
Balinese made a move to jump in the fray—Siberian was ridiculously outnumbered—but Abyssinian put a hand to his arm, and his grip was slack though his message was clear and granite: they don't interfere, yet.
Yoji hesitated, but held his ground. He looked to Ken, and watched as the younger man ripped through the defenses, the bodies… One by one they fell, and surreally smooth, he tore through them all. It took just a few minutes. He stood among the bodies like a dark god. No one had been able to escape his wrath. For a long moment, it seemed as if he was oblivious to them, until coolly, he turned around and tilted his head up to look straight at Yoji and Ran.
"Yo-tan," he said, "Anyone ever told you it's impolite to stare?"
Yoji grinned, threw himself over the railing and landed gracefully on his feet in front of Ken. A closer look of the younger man showed that he had grown much paler, a bit thinner. His eyes were some shades deeper, and beneath the right one was a fading scar. Noticing that Yoji was giving him a not-so-discreet once-over, Ken averted his gaze and turned to watch as Ran too jumped over the railing and landed on his feet. Ran stepped towards them. He stopped about two paces away from Ken, until now, still two paces too far.
The silence held. Ken would not budge this time.
"You look well," Ran said at last.
Ken shrugged coolly, turned to Yoji. "Omi put you up to this."
Yoji grinned shamelessly, "You know him. The rest we pieced together. We are I&R, you know."
"Well I'm fine," insisted Ken as he squatted next to a body and wiped his bloodied bugnuks on the dead man's shirt, "As you can see. I'm getting out of here, it fucking stinks. You wanna talk, we talk the hell away from here."
Ken looked up at the familiar brick building with a feeling of nostalgia and unexplainable anger.
The home he had left…
He watched Ran walk loosely beside him from the corner of his eye. I practically sold my goddamn soul for you…
But it was all just so stupid. Did he want to be thanked? Did he expect to be thanked? It was a thankless fucking life, he knew that long-ago. And Ran was a thankless bastard, he knew that long ago, he knew that when he loved him. He was just profoundly pissed at himself for hoping. For having all these dreams at the end of all these dirty days that when they would see each other again, Ran would know that Ken gave him his freedom. And he knows, damn it, he just doesn't seem to give much of a shit about it. Ken hated himself for looking for gratitude in those frigid eyes. And he hated this cursed place with all of its dreams and hopes and memories.
"You said we'd go out for coffee," he said to Yoji in accusation.
"What did you expect?" the blonde snapped, "for us to drop by Starbucks or something?"
Ken didn't bother to dignify this with a reply. Actually he did know, from the very moment they decided to get out of the warehouse, that they would end up here at the Koneko. But he didn't expect it to hurt so damn much.
He turned his back on them. "I changed my mind."
Yoji grabbed him by the arm, and it had been a profound mistake. Ken stiffened and cringed, almost lashed out instinctively, struggled for control. Yoji felt it too, so his grip slackened, eventually loosening completely. His hand fell empty to his side as Ken walked away into the just-as-empty night.
But Ken knew he would come back, eventually. Just as Ran and Yoji knew this wouldn't end here. It was like a sick game, and they were sick pawns of a life that was mostly a ridiculous joke.
At least I know you know me well enough…
Ken silently slipped through the window of his old room. He had gone as far as four blocks, until he felt his old home calling irresistibly to him. What would it be like, he wondered, to be in there again? To be in his old room, as the demon that he had once tried so hard not to become?
Ran was there too, sitting on his old bed and looking at him, his pale skin glowing in the light of the moon. He looked like he has been waiting awhile.
Ken walked towards Ran and stood about a foot away from him, just a shadow, his face darkened by the moonlight behind him.
As it did earlier in the night, the silence held. Ran wouldn't speak. And after so long, Ken couldn't find it in himself to fill that yawning void anymore.
Ran stood up, and they stood almost eye to eye now. Their gazes held too, and the amethyst laser gaze seemed to be searching for him from inside himself.
"Why did you have to leave?" Ran asked softly.
"You would have too," answered Ken in the same lowered tone, "If it would have set me free."
"Would I have…?" asked Ran.
Ken shook his head, averted his eyes. "You're right, I don't fucking know. I can't presume you would. But you asked why we left. I told you."
--
"I used to play this stupid game," Ken's voice shook, "If I kept silent long enough, would you talk. Would you meet me more than halfway. Would you say the things that we both needed to hear if I decided not to."
--
"You never did," said Ken, "not until tonight. I've won the stupid game after so damn long--"
"Words, words!" hissed Ran, inexplicably annoyed, "They're nothing but useless goddamn words."
"It's hard enough for people to understand each other even when they say how they feel," Ken pointed out, "much less when they don't say anything at all."
--
Ken sighed. "But you're right too. I was perpetually waiting for you to say something to me, when maybe you were actually showing me already and… it's all my goddamn fault. Everything is. Whatever. It's too late."
"Why?" Ran asked.
"I don't know," Ken replied irritably.
Ran's brow creased. Ken was terribly pale in the light, like he had not seen the sun in so long… He looked like porcelain, and Ran feared to touch him, lest he break him. Ran raised his hand slowly, so Ken would know it was coming, and he touched at the scar underneath Ken's eye. It was fading, but also stubbornly insistent. Ken flinched at the touch, but didn't bother to fight it, or tear away from it.
"It's not as deep as it looks," Ken said quickly, "Really. It will fade. I patched it up myself. And you can count on the bastard who nicked me being really very dead by now."
Ran tilted his head, watched Ken's face. Ken seemed to desperately fear that scar. This might have been the last straw that made him turn. The pallid Irishman from long ago had an injured eye hidden beneath a patch…
"You look well," Ran said again--as he had earlier, except, he didn't really mean it as much anymore.
Ken stepped back, and Ran's hand fell to his side.
"I am," Ken said, "Tell Yoji to back off. And if you see Omi, tell him the same damn thing. I can take care of myself. I went into this thing knowing what would happen, all right? So drop it."
Ken exhaled slowly, calmed himself down. Then he nodded at Ran and… left.
* * *
