Yami no Matsuei belongs to Matsushita Yoko-sensei, certainly not my artistically-challenged self!

A/N: I've decided to keep on naming my chapters after Tori Amos songs, now that I've started. The last chapter was Little Earthquakes because 'it's always the little things that shake us most,' and because of the lyric: give me life/give me pain/give me myself again. I'll explain this title at the end...

Crimson Threads and Gold

Chapter Two – Precious Things

"It was a person." Hisoka looked up at Tsuzuki, who was sprawled in his desk chair with a cup of tea clutched in his hands. "That she was scared of. I don't know his name, but he's the reason she was killed – she saw him in the crowd, and it terrified her so much that she ran into the road."

"Oh." Tsuzuki took another sip of tea, frowning in thought. "Who is he, then? Why was Reiko so afraid of him?"

"I don't really know – as far as I gathered, he was threatening her, so she ran away, and when she saw he'd followed her she panicked." Hisoka frowned, thinking back. "He wasn't someone she was used to; he must have been a new arrival at the village. She... it was fear of pain," he ended uncertainly. It seemed so little, now, but he had been so certain that it was important...

"So, the most likely scenario was that he was threatening to hurt her?" Tsuzuki asked, setting down his cup. Hisoka nodded slowly, trying to dredge up anything else that might be remotely useful.

"I... I think... he had hurt her before – there were memories of pain, as well as the fear."

"Hmm. You don't know his name – how about identifying features?" Tsuzuki was watching him far too closely, Hisoka thought, and there was something... after a moment, he realised what it was. His partner normally tried to maintain a shield of calm when he was around him, knowing how much the turbulent emotions of others affected Hisoka. Now, though, there was a faint hint of worry, of concern, and something else, something more personal...

"It's not Muraki, if that's what you're thinking," Hisoka informed the older man, trying to keep his voice even. "This man was shorter, with black eyes and long dark hair."

"Oh," Tsuzuki said again, and there was relief there, a sharp flash of blue across a deeper field of emotion – bright red and black for anger and hate, all twined around something deeply crimson that slipped away even as Hisoka reflexively tried to grasp at it. Shaking himself mentally, the younger Shinigami deliberately let it pass, focusing his mind back on the problem at hand. Long ago he had decided that it was unethical to purposefully attempt to read beneath the surface of another's heart without good reason. And poking about in his partner's private thoughts and feelings was definitely an invasion.

"How long before we can talk to Reiko about this?" he asked instead, wondering if this mysterious man was worth investigating. There was something else associated with the face he had seen in Kamari Reiko's mind, some other connection... "Oh, and another thing. The illness she had was giving her fainting fits, and as far as I can tell she seems to have associated those with 'him' as well."

"Really?" Tsuzuki looked puzzled. "I suppose, if she didn't know she was ill... Anyway, we won't be able to see her at all until after her trial, which could take days. Not before the weekend, anyway."

"Oh. So, then tomorrow we go and find out about this man?"

Tsuzuki drooped. "But, Hisoka," he tried, putting on his best pleading expression. "Tomorrow is baking day at City View Restaurant!"

"No chance," Hisoka stated, staring at his partner flatly.

Tsuzuki's lip quivered, and Hisoka steeled himself to endure the worst the elder Shinigami could do. "But, but, it's my favourite... Almond cake and apple pie, and after tomorrow there won't be any left..." His eyes were now huge, quivering pools of violet pleading, and Hisoka looked away, pretending unconcern.

"You eat too many sweets as it is. It won't hurt you for once." He didn't need to look to see that those big, expressive eyes were now threatening tears. Any moment now Tsuzuki would accuse him of cruelty again. Would it hurt to give in for once? It would make Tsuzuki so happy, and since Kyoto Hisoka had noticed that his partner smiled less often. I'm going to cave, aren't I, just like he wants me to... "But, I suppose," he conceded with a sigh, "we could stop in tomorrow on the way if you really want to."

"Uwaa! Really?" Tsuzuki demanded, the smile threatening to engulf his face. Hisoka had to fight to keep his own expression impassive; exasperation and amusement warred within him as his partner beamed across the desks. Tsuzuki's joy was tangible, warm and yellow-orange and less to do with the possibility of sweets than with Hisoka's capitulation. Had anyone else been present, Hisoka would have made a cutting remark, but that warm-orange-joy-excitement was actually quite soothing, and he allowed his empathic senses to simply float on the surface of the emotions for a moment. Tsuzuki was the most complex person he had ever met, and Hisoka knew that what his partner showed the world was never the whole of what he thought or felt. But at the moment, Tsuzuki seemed at peace, and that was enough.

***

"Aargh." Tsuzuki flopped down on the bed with a groan, arms flung out to either side. That Tatsumi, he thought with a helpless sigh. The secretary had been positively scary that afternoon, when he and Hisoka had come back to the office. Just because they hadn't been able to find the Kamari girl's stalker... How could you find someone who had disappeared into thin air, anyway? Tsuzuki thought rebelliously. But Tatsumi had not been satisfied with this excuse, and had made some rather cutting remarks. And then, he had threatened to cut Tsuzuki's salary – as if that was even possible, considering the level of pay he was already at – if he wasn't going to do the work to earn it. At that point Hisoka had stepped in and adroitly pointed out that they had made some progress; Tsuzuki had taken the opportunity to escape the secretary's wrath, but not before Tatsumi had summarily ordered them to abandon the mysterious man and stay in the office, catching up on paperwork, until the next case came in.

Tsuzuki scowled petulantly; he hated paperwork. Last month Tatsumi had made him fill out the same form three times before he was satisfied, and it was a safe bet that something similar would happen this time around. Hisoka never seemed to have problems with his deskwork, but then Tsuzuki supposed that he wouldn't. Or at least that he wouldn't ever let anyone know if he did.

Tsuzuki sighed again, rolling over and propping his chin on his hands. Hisoka – that was a problem, he knew. His little partner simply refused to let anyone see what he was feeling; it was hard for Tsuzuki to tell whether this was because he was still suppressing his own emotions, or if he was just being reticent about them. Hisoka was important to him, and sometimes Tsuzuki worried that he might hurt himself even more simply because he was incapable of turning to others. And the idea of Hisoka being hurt...

Unbidden, Tsuzuki remembered back when Hisoka had first agreed to become his partner, when the demon he had attempted to fight had invaded his own body and used him to hurt and mutilate Hisoka. The fact that neither Sargantanus nor Tsuzuki's own buried psyche had known that it was actually Hisoka rather than Hijiri was irrelevant in Tsuzuki's eyes; the fact that his hand had caused such injury and pain to his partner was enough. He would never forget it.

For a long time after that incident, Tsuzuki had been certain that Hisoka must hate him. He had wondered often what kept the younger Shinigami with him, and in his more depressive moments had been certain that it was out of pity. Surely Hisoka could have been able to do so much better than him...

And then. Kyoto, and Muraki; darkness and self-hatred and the knowledge that he was just as monstrous as they had all feared, that he didn't even deserve that pity, didn't deserve to exist any longer. And he would have made good on that realisation, except that suddenly Hisoka had been there, beside him. At the time, Tsuzuki had simply panicked; Touda's fires were hurting Hisoka, and that could not be allowed to happen. It was only later that his partner's words had really begun to sink in. And more than his words; his very presence. Why should Hisoka want to risk his life – or afterlife, or existence – to be with a monster like him? To be with someone he hated? As he recuperated in the hospital – driven mad by Watari's refusal to let him alone for a minute – Tsuzuki had slowly come to the realisation that despite his brusque exterior and frequent irritability, perhaps Hisoka didn't really hate him after all. Perhaps Hisoka even cared about him a little, in some way?

Of course, on bad days Tsuzuki was sure that it was all just an illusion, his own mind conjuring up things that didn't really exist. And on those days the guilt writhed and twisted in him like a live thing; guilt for all the lives he had taken, all the pain he had caused. And always, deepest and most choking of all, guilt for first hurting Hisoka so badly, and then threatening his very existence. He was worse than Muraki had ever been; Hisoka had trusted him... And so on, around and around in his mind until there was nothing he could do but huddle helplessly inside his own accusing psyche.

Dismissing his dark thoughts with an effort, Tsuzuki levered himself up from the bed and padded slowly into his kitchen. Setting the kettle on the stove, he began making preparations for tea. Something warm, and there was still half of an almond cake in his fridge... He had been surprised, last week, that Hisoka had agreed so readily to let him go to the bakery sale; he had thought his partner would take a great deal more persuasion. Maybe Hisoka had been tired or something? After all, he had been gone so long, probing Kamari Reiko's mind, and Tsuzuki knew how he hated to expose himself to unrestrained emotions. Hisoka's control of his empathic powers had grown a great deal since he had first become a Shinigami, but he still sometimes had difficulties with it.

Pouring the hot water slowly into his mug, Tsuzuki wondered whether the heat he could feel on his face was entirely due to the rush of steam from the kettle. For some reason, the memory of Hisoka's soft mouth had popped vividly into his mind, accompanied by a hazy image of his young partner, small and uncertain as he stepped towards Tsuzuki. Blinking, he wondered where that memory had come from; it wasn't anything he could place, but the vulnerability in Hisoka's eyes took his breath away. Confused, the Shinigami raised the mug to his lips and sipped at his tea, too distracted to notice either its delicate flavour or the fact that the heat of it was scalding him.

***

Hisoka sighed again and rolled his shoulders, consciously trying to relax himself. Exhaling on a deep breath, he counted three pulse beats and then slowly breathed in again... one, two, three... then out... After a while, the blank walls of his bedroom started to blur before his eyes, and he let them drift closed, carefully letting go of the tight hold he had on his empathic senses. The world around him spread out like a unrolling map of colours and feelings; although there was no one within his immediate range, Hisoka could make out the lingering residues that people had brought with them in the past. Happiness, worry, amusement, affection... he let them all wash over him, spreading out his consciousness to the effective limits of his natural range. He could have pushed on further, if he wished, towards the minds and hearts of the other inhabitants of Meifu, but that would have taken an effort, and he was content just to relax here for the moment.

After a while, Hisoka started to feel sleep creeping up on him; the emotional remnants that he felt seemed to blur together into a strange, kaleidoscopic tapestry of colour and feeling, until he could no longer distinguish them from each other. As they faded into the warm darkness, the overwhelming impression that lingered behind was of loneliness.

By itself, that wouldn't have been enough to wake Hisoka up; over the long years he had grown painfully used to his solitude, had long since accepted the fact that he would always be alone. An unnatural monster didn't deserve the company of others, much less their affection or love, and he had learned to wrap his solitude around him like a shroud, closing everything out. After all, the only thing other people could want was to hurt him; his so-called family had instilled this belief deeply in their sensitive son, and Muraki had only reinforced it.

Loneliness... What surprised Hisoka enough to wake him up from the edge of dreaming was the aching, painful desire for comfort. Being alone hurt; alone, there was nothing for him except his own mind, and the inevitable memories. Memories of cages; memories of darkness, and tears, and screams ripped from a child's throat in the sick light of the red moon. No one would come, no one would save him. No one ever had. Desperately, Hisoka found himself clinging to the image of his partner as a shield against the emptiness inside him. Tsuzuki...

Helpless, Hisoka remembered the Queen Camellia – blood on his hands and darkness and fear and terror and Muraki's eyes following him, knowing and amused – and the way his partner had held him afterwards, rocked him as he wept and shook and whispered words of comfort that only he could hear. And more than anything, he wanted that again; the feeling of Tsuzuki's arms around him suddenly seemed to hold all the comfort in the world, and Hisoka desperately wished for it. Squeezing his eyes shut against the darkness behind them, he remembered what had happened in Kyoto, remembered the way that he had held on desperately, trying with the strength of his own hands to hold Tsuzuki together, keep his violet-eyed partner with him...

Hisoka sighed, hating the way his body trembled on the edge of silent tears. If he was honest with himself, he knew that he didn't have the right to go to Tsuzuki for comfort, not outside of work. How could he ask the older Shinigami for support, when he knew that Tsuzuki was just as broken inside as he himself was. It never ceased to amaze him that there could be so much pain behind that smiling face, so much sorrow in those expressive eyes when his partner thought no one was looking. He shouldn't be forced to patch Hisoka up too, just because the boy was unable to cope.

Hugging himself tightly and biting his lip, Hisoka lay awake for a long time, trying not to let himself care.

TBC

Precious Things: well, in essence it's about pain, and scars, and the way we cling to our old wounds. I really didn't intend for this chapter to be all angst, honestly...