Ch. 11

Beyond the Darkness

                Ken hissed a sigh of annoyance and slight relief as the door was closed behind the last customer for the day. He needed a break. A really big break. He passed a tired hand through his brown hair and let it fall to the back of his neck where he tried to rub out the tenseness in the sore muscles residing there. Another week had passed.

He closed his eyes, hoping to block out the sudden rush of emotions that made his eyes sting. With each day he crossed off the calendar, with each hour that continued to pass with him helpless to stop it or slow it down, Ken's hope lowered.

Perhaps Omi was d-… NO! No… no…no…he huffed another sigh out and let his hand fall to his side. He shook his head, sending droplets of sweat fly from him. Omi had to be alive. He just needed to be alive.

                As it was, Ken was doing the unthinkable. He was keeping notes… a sort of diary with everything that happened as time went past him. He was hoping that once Omi was found, he could let the younger boy have it so that Omi would feel like he'd been there the whole time.

It was a stupid, crappy idea that Ken knew was only a waste of time and it took his mind off of things but still… now that he had started it, he could not stop writing it in. Sometimes the entries were more like long letters to Omi instead of memories that he would jot down. A tight smile tugged at his lips. Surprisingly, Ken wasn't the only one who wrote in the little book. Aya-chan had started right after him, asking if it was ok and then quickly after that, so had Yoji and Ran. The soccer player snorted. Not that the older two would write in it when anyone else was around…no… they would make sure to do it in the privacy of their own rooms and in the darkness of the night. There had been an unspoken agreement that each entry be private. And so far, as far as he knew, that had not been taken lightly.

                A small hand was placed on his arm, shaking him from his slight reverie. "Ne Ken-kun," Aya-chan started softly, looking at him with a smile. "Could you help me for a minute?" He nodded and went to where she pointed where boxes of supplies had been placed on top of one another. "Thanks." Together they worked quietly at opening and putting away the supplies. And during this, Ken went back to thinking. He wondered idly if the others had mentioned their first real mission without Omi. Had they described the way Aya-chan, Omi's student, had managed to hack into the system and get the information that they had needed. That she had whizzed by the security and turned it off so that the three of them could get in… how it had hurt to see her typing like a little fury in the same position, same chair as Omi usually had done.

Shit.

He was driving himself insane.

He bit his lower lip and took the empty boxes outside where the dumpster waited to be filled. Throwing them over the side, he realized a bit belatedly that Aya-chan had followed him out, her eyes filled with worry. Had she been speaking to him? God, he hoped not. He'd missed all of it if she had.

                "…Is there anything you wanted, Aya-chan?" She cocked her head to the side, her right hand coming to fist at the fabric of her skirt.

                "I just wanted to know if there was something in particular that you wanted to eat. Since… it is my day to cook." He made a show of thinking about it for a few minutes and then shook his head, making sure a smile was on his face.

                "Nah. Surprise me. I love anything you cook." She shook her head and smiled back, a slight blush tainting her cheeks. "Come on, let's get inside. Do you need help with anything by the way?" She shook her head again and went inside. Ken followed her silent again, but he turned his head back to catch a last glimpse at the darkening sky and wondered if would ever be allowed to bury certain memories… certain thoughts in a similar darkness so that his mental sun could come shining out again.

…

                The next day was quite like the ones that had passed before it. The three assassins had gotten up in the morning, even Yoji, forced to eat a healthy breakfast made with complements of Aya-chan and then they went to get the shop ready. Neither of the men could escape the health kick that Ran's younger sister was in and so poor Yoji had been grumpy with the lack of sleep, lack of cigarettes, and worst of all… lack of his 'fun' nightlife.

                Too soon the little flower shop was filled with high school and middle school girls, flocking around the three men. There was a small random group of boys crowding poor Aya-chan who kept up a cheerful face and upbeat atmosphere as best as she could. So it wasn't surprising if one small group of three girls and one boy was not noticed as they walked towards the little shop. In that group, Ouka's attention was kept by the ever-hyper Mika who was once again explaining the blood type and personalities of the various men who worked in the flower shop. With each description, Ouka's stomach had cramped up and he felt cold and hot chills run through his body. He wished silently that he could have gone home instead of following his new friends to this oh-so-wonderful store of theirs. He just didn't feel good. But he had no excuse to use other than say outright that he wasn't interested… and that wouldn't have been polite. Further reason for why he was still walking along side of Mika was the fact that home had become strange. Sad in a way. Okaa-san had been crying again and when Otto-san actually came home from work, there would be hushed whisperings and looks sent his way. Fear would then coil within him and he would wonder how much time he had left until his secret would no longer be his… He bit his lip to keep it from trembling. Okaa-san had told him to go out and have fun today… because tonight, she wanted to have a talk with him. An important one.

He let the flow of words pass by him finally, hoping that not only would it ease his stomachache but that it would also ease the pounding headache that was starting to throb in his temples. Maybe if he distracted himself with something else… His wide blues eyes turned away from Mika's happy face and turned to look at his other friends that were accompanying them. Yui was silent as always, a determined look on her face as she walked forward in hope that today would be the day where they would finally be told the truth on Omi's health. Shinchiro was being his usual gentlemen self and carrying all of their bags as he whistled a careless tune. That made Ouka smile…Nothing ever seemed to faze the other boy—not Mika's bubbly spirit, not Ouka's shyness, nor Yui's quiet authority and no nonsense personality. If a raving group of fanatics or feminists marched right up to him and started harassing him, Ouka was quite sure that the older boy would just smile and scratch the back of his head before asking breathlessly what he could do to help them.

                The smile faded all too quickly as the noise coming from the little flower shop exceeded the usual amount of noise Ouka could handle. His eyes widened and the breath caught in his throat. This would do nothing for the headache. He gave an inward groan and slowed his steps, his eyes wandering around the place to see if there was an escape anywhere in sight. He didn't want to go in! His eyes slowed as they took in the scene… and his heart seemed to skip a beat, freezing in place in his chest… there was the redhead, scowling… he stopped in his tracks… there was the blond, flirting away…he tried to breath… there was the brunette, playfully helping some girls with an order of flowers… he tried to make his lungs work… there was the old woman, a cat on her lap… he tried to make his muscles work as they started to tremble underneath him… there was…that girl, smiling…smiling. Ouka's knees just stopped holding his weight. Simply stopped and he fell down, with a loud smack as he hit the concrete. It was all there…

It was all there.

He couldn't breath… He couldn't breath… he couldn't breath. The lump in his throat became bigger, hurting so much that he just couldn't do anything. No air could get past it, no words… no…nothing. He just watched them as they continued living; breathing… taking no notice that he was here. That he had been waiting for them, that he had been lying for them, looking for them all this time.

And they…they had continued.

They hadn't cared…

/Oh kitten…/

They hadn't cared one bit.

A fat warm tear slid down his cheek, prickling his eyes but he couldn't shut them. A hand grasped at his shoulder but it felt so far away, too far away. Voices were shrieking shrilly around him, wondering what was wrong. His name that was not his name was being called out. There were sudden cars screeching to a halt, beeping filling the air. But it didn't matter.

/Forget them/

Nothing mattered. They hadn't cared. He wasn't worth their care.

He wasn't worth shit! And still… he couldn't breath, and still he couldn't move… he could only continue to look as the image of them blurred from the tears. As each fell, as each tear trickled down, it was part of his hope that died… it was part of him that died.

/Some things… are best forgotten./

Yes. Some things are best forgotten. More sound, more motion. The men were looking over here… they were looking! Ouka…no Omi saw them through tears as the brunette looked over, worried at first and then… his eyes had widened. His look had changed. And he had started running over.

Some things are best forgotten.

Some things are best forgotten.
Some things are best forgotten.

He clawed at the hand that was shaking him, suddenly free of his paralysis. He still felt as if there was no air… that nothing would ever be able to pass down his throat, that his head would split into two pieces if he moved any faster… but it didn't matter. It just didn't matter.

Where his heart was, it was just a dull ache. And when he pushed himself up and started to run away, bumping mindlessly into the people that had crowded around him, that dull ache started to fade into a fire of anger.

Some things were best forgotten.

But some things weren't meant for anything at all.

And he was one of them.

/…done…/

…

Manx frowned as the secretary handed her a file that she should have gotten ages ago. As her eyes skimmed over the paperwork, they widened. Her lips tightened into a frown. She needed to contact Weiss immediately and that family, the Wilsen's.

The trial needed to be postponed just until she could be sure…

Just so she could be sure.

A/N- Sorry for the short chapter. And I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. I've been skipping from story to story. Grins. I hope you still like this story. Let me know if anything is unclear… or if you have any comments at all!!!