Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance2@hotmail.com

Title: Bed of Roses

Type: part 6/6

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 SIX: Bed of Roses

      "Mmngh.."

      He came to with a groan, thinking maybe the night has already passed and he had escaped the worst of the post-mission pains that came with his usual injuries.  But he hurt, alternately dully and deeply, and sharp and stinging.  He was half-carried by Ran, whose scent was a distinctly good combination of the organically masculine—yes, sweat-- and shower-soap.  He would know it 'til the day he died, for all those times before that the redhead helped him out as he was doing now, or the other way around. 

      His head hung, and he watched his rebellious, booted feet trying to bonelessly navigate the steep steps of what could only be the Koneko.

      "You've been shot," Ran informed him calmly, feeling him stir and awaken.

      "No way," Ken drawled sarcastically, "I hadn't noticed."

      Actually it was the truth.  He hadn't noticed it until just now.  His adrenalin had kept him going during the mission.  He should have seen it waning towards the end…

      Ran sat Ken down on his bed—Ran's bed, Ken noted—as the redhead went off to his bathroom's medicine cabinet, undoubtedly hunting for that first aid kit.

      With a groan, Ken braced his uninjured arm on the bed and let himself slide to the floor.  Blearily, he looked around Ran's room.  It was as sedate and un-lively as he last remembered. 

      "What are you doing on the floor?" Ran asked irritably when he found the brunette sitting on the ground.  He put the kit down on the night table and grabbed Ken's uninjured arm.

      "Didn't want to soil your sheets," Ken replied, but didn't fight as Ran pulled him up.

      "Lie yourself down," Ran commanded quietly, turning to the kit and organizing it.

      "It's your laundry," Ken said melodically as he let his head fall on the mattress.  He winced as his injured soldier complained at the movement.  He put his right hand to it and found it was soaking in blood.  His vision wavered again.

      Not good…

      Ran loomed over him with a pair of scissors.

      "Want me to try saving your shirt?" he asked softly.

      The nostalgia of it, coupled with his pain, brought tears to Ken's eyes.  He blinked at them, prohibited them from falling.

      "It's not as funny as I remembered," Ken said quietly.

      Ran looked away from him, disappointed, turning to the task at hand.  He cut expertly through Ken's shirts, and pulled the strips away from his broken skin.  Ken watched as the pieces of fabric fell from Ran's hands onto the bed, like cascading blood-red rose petals…

      He loves me…

      Another piece fell…

      He loves me not…

      Another piece…

      He loves me…

      His vision shook.  He lost the thread of thought.  It shouldn't even fucking matter—

      He sucked in a breath and his body stiffened, as Ran gently pried his wound open wider, and used a tiny flashlight to look for the bullet.  Ran heard him gasp, so he paused and looked at him worriedly.

      It's those tiny crease in his forehead again, Ken noted sadly, like that last night… Godif only I was the same person… 

      "I don't have anesthetics for this kind of injury anymore," Ran said by way of explanation, "And I didn't want to give you two doses of the other sort."

      Ken wrinkled his nose at Ran, trying to find it in himself to joke, "That's very selfish of you."

      "I meant it would have been dangerous," Ran clarified.

      "I know," Ken sighed, "I was kidding."

      "This won't take long," Ran lied.

      But he lied so well, with his sure eyes and his unshaking hands and his unflappable composure.

      Its so tempting to believe you, thought Ken, it was so tempting to believe all of this… Me, on your bed… it was like a perversion of an already perverted old fantasy… maybe not so old… he could still see it in his head, after all…

      But he didn't have the strength.  Not to make his fantasies real, not even to dream about it.

      Ran dug his instrument into the tender, throbbing wound.  Ken's fists clenched on the sheets, and his jaw set as he bit back a scream.  His grip on the mattress went a beat after his grip on wakefulness was lost.

      Yoji shot up in bed. 

      "This is like a fucking nightmare," he muttered, "Get the hell out of the shadows, Ken."

      Ken did as the older Weiß asked.  It has been almost two nights since the diMarco mission, and he was on his feet and ready to leave.

      "You know how unhealthy this is?" scolded Yoji, "Omi did the same damn thing to me twice.  Good thing I don't sleep in the buff anymore…"

      A smile teased Ken's lips.  "I'm sorry.  I thought you may have wanted me to say goodbye to you."

      "You hadn't before," pointed out Yoji, "Why now?"

      "I nearly killed you," joked Ken, "I thought I owed you one."

"It does hurt like a bitch," Yoji grinned, then let his lips fall into a frown, "So soon?"

      "It's been long enough already," Ken said, putting a hand to his red-orange knitted sweater and smiling at it beatifically, "Look.  I stole this from Ran.  He lent it to me but I'm hell-bent on leaving with it. I'm going to take it with me."

      --

      "Ken…" said Yoji softly, his emerald eyes glistening, "You promised me you wouldn't let go.  We barely pulled you out this time and you're still on the brink…"

      "Some promises we have to break," Ken said with a smile, "I'm sorry, Yo-tan.  I thought it was all for the best.  But I'm certainly trying my best to stop wigging out this time."  He held up a plane ticket, "Look.  Omi's going to 'vanish' me.  He's sending me to Oahu."

      "Where's that?" Yoji asked.

      Ken shrugged.  "It doesn't matter.  It's away from…" he waved his hand vaguely, "All this.  He told me to bring swim trunks.  Can you believe it?  We're all safe now.  You and Ran in I&R, and me in Oahu, and Omi behind his desk in Kritiker.  It did all work out.  Now I have to leave."

      "But there's nothing for you there…" Yoji pointed out.

      "There's nothing for me here," Ken lied.

      He looked up suddenly, towards the door.  It was about this time that Ran haunted the corridors and stopped by Yoji's door, always, always on the verge of knocking.

      "It's just Ran," said Yoji.

      "I know," Ken said softly, "I know how he walks."  And how he talks, and how he smiles beneath his seemingly cold eyes.  I know.

      "He's always just coming and going," said Yoji, "He's been doing that every night for two years."

      --

      "You look sad," Yoji noticed, "Omi did too."

      "I guess I never…" Ken shook his head, "He didn't seem to mind us not being around, much."

      "Well," Yoji stretched his arms over his head, "Now you know."

      --

      Ken watched as the shadow stopped in front of Yoji's door.

      If you knock tonight, I will come to you, Ken made a silent bet with himself.

      --

      He waited a few aching heartbeats.  But the shadow turned and left.  Ken's heart sank.

      "Now you look sad," Yoji said, curiously watching the play of emotions on the young face, "he looked just like that the day he found you had left."

      --

      "What do you mean?" Ken asked.

      "I'm sleepy," said Yoji, pretending to yawn though his eyes teased, "I thought you were leaving."

      "I was!" Ken said defensively, "I mean I am!"

      Yoji smiled at him as he sank back down on bed.

      "No matter what happens to you from now on, Ken," he said, "If you can't hang on to me, hang onto yourself, eh?"

      Ken smiled at him.  "I know.  Thanks, Yoji."

      Ran looked up from staring out the window at the creaking of the opening door.

      "I thought you left," he said softly, as Ken made his way into the room.

      "You would have missed your sweater," said Ken with a smile.

      "I'd have missed seeing you in it," Ran said matter-of-factly, though he averted his eyes, almost-shyly.

      It made Ken smile, and blush.  The heat on his cheeks was familiar, and old.  He often associated the sensation with Ran, and with the Koneko because it hardly happened elsewhere.

      "Anyway," Ran said, "You shouldn't leave too soon.  Your wound…"

      "It's not that bad," Ken lied, because it had been and even he wasn't fool enough to deny it.  There had been two shots, and they were very close to his heart.  Those diMarco bastards had been very serious about wanting him dead.

      Ken stopped two paces from Ran.  The redhead closed the distance without a second thought.

      "I thought you left," he said again.

      "I have to," Ken said.

      "I know."

      --

Damn it, thought Ken, wanting to scream and wanting to cry because here they were again.  Here they fucking were again.  Perpetually at odds.  Tonight couldn't end as you are ending it… Tonight couldn't be like those other nights…

Ran raised his hands and held Ken's face.  He leaned his head against Ken's, as if by sheer will and touch the other man could hear his thoughts, form the words that he couldn't, breach the inhibitions that he couldn't tear down.

Hear me… Feel me…

"I know, I know…" Ken said in a shuddering breath, his tears at last leaking from his lids and falling on his cheeks, down his face, through Ran's fingers.

"You don't have to say anything anymore," Ken said, I'll be our voiceIt will be enough.

"I love you," Ken said.

And Ran had said it too, in his own way.  Even with his seemingly expressionless, yet intent laser eyes and his still, sculpted face.  He pulled Ken closer and brought their lips into a binding kiss.

It was like the wind was rushing in Ken's ears, and it was so deliciously forbidden, at the same time it felt as if the last part of a million-piece puzzle had found its place; it was perfect and right, it was wrong and crazy.  It was the sun and the moon, and black and white, and him and me.

Ran's kiss had been deep, and desperate and breathless.  Ken returned it with the same amount of yearning.  It hadn't been about two men finding each other's bodies.  It was two people brushing souls.  The body was a burden.  He wanted to explode out of it.  He wanted to entwine himself around every piece of Ran's being.  He couldn't get close enough.

Ran's hands fell from his face, down the sides of his neck, gripped the collar of his shirt, poised to rip it open.

Ken pulled his face away from Ran's, tried not to laugh as he struggled to say "Don't… I like…" he evaded Ran's kiss, "…this shirt on you…"

Ran caught his lips again, and Ken smiled when he felt that Ran's mouth was smiling.  A low moan escaped him as Ran's lips moved from his mouth to his neck, to his collarbone.  He wasn't getting any further because of the damned sweatshirt.

Ken's hands reached for the edges of Ran's white polo, tore at it until the slim, translucent buttons hit the floor like raindrops, or morning dew.  Ken's hands held Ran's chest, for an infinite moment relishing the feeling of Ran's wildly beating heart beneath his palms.  He pushed Ran's polo back, willing for the other man to remove it completely, and Ran understood and he let it fall to the floor as Ken held him closer and touched his lips against the ivory neck.

More clothes followed and cascaded to the ground in swirling pieces that curved and folded.  They were like petals falling from a dying flower; One by one the clothes fell, as Ran and Ken moved closer, kissed deeper, touched and held, and died onto each other.

Their breaths caught and hitched with the winds of the night, struggling to live and aching to die, until their bodies have shivered into emptiness, and laid still at last.

"I have to go," Ken whispered, watching Ran as he laid down beside him.  His breathing was even, and soothing.  His eyelids fluttered, as if he would wake.

"Pretend you're asleep," Ken said softly, running his hands through the chiseled, white cheeks, "I have to leave and I couldn't if you looked at me.  I couldn't before, and I couldn't now.

"Lie down and sleep," Ken said, in this bed of roses… "I'll find you again.  And when that happens, everything else before that and after this night was a dream, and the only times things have ever been real was when we were together.

He kissed Ran's forehead before he rose.

"Good night, you."

THE END

August 11, 2003

VERY IMPORTANT NOTES:

Some disclaimers.  First of all, I'm sorry for any OOC-ness.  I've often been told that I get my characterizations right (especially with Ken), but I've decided to venture out into what-if's in my past efforts at writing fics (like in "Der Mensch" and "Escape" where I tried to write Ken as a machine and then as a man who is forced by situations to grow and control his passions).  They may be a little off, but I meant for the characters to have had some changes in their isolation of two years.  I'm hoping that I have retained their general personalities though. Chapter 1 is an old fic from May 2001 called "Heights."  "Bed of Roses" can probably stand without it and vice versa, because both began as different fics.  However, dealing with the same issues, I decided to merge them.  Those who have kept correspondence with me and was privy to the information that "Heights" had long been planned as the first part of a trilogy, might know that "Bed of Roses" is not the original sequel/continuation, but I thought this might be more fitting instead.  On the general feeling of the fic: This, like "Der Mensch" I had a hard time sitting with.  It hurt me to write it, for some reason, it was so distinctly heavy.  I guess it mirrors my mood lately.  I wrote this in little more than a few days, so I apologize for any problems you may have with it.  As usual, I recommend a post-fic soundtrack.  It's the acoustic version of "Could It Be Any Harder" by the Calling, which inspired me because its such a beautiful song and version.   On my debut writing some form of sensual scene: I generally don't like upping my rating because I want my story to be read by anyone, but I guess it's about time I tried this one out.  My other fics had yaoi, yes, but physical expression of affection had been highly limited because I had no idea how to proceed (up until "Fireside," a relatively old fic of mine but many had already come before it, I never even wrote yaoi because I didn't know how to handle it).  I feared to just dive into unknown territory, so I mixed the sensual with the poetic (or at least I attempted to), and compared the act with dying, being one with the world.  This mentality is actually supported by the psychological explanation for falling in love.  If you could spare the time, I could use some useful feedback on this department (as you could probably tell; my style is still very unpolished).  Chapter Six is a reprisal of Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.  I wanted to end the fic with a circular feeling.  Btw, Chapter Two is actually my version of sexual tension and a room filled with unsaid things.  Hope I conveyed that :) Despite all this, hope you enjoyed :) c&c's always welcome! Thanks!