[18 July 2013] Edited, because I notice people are still reading this old, old story, and I'm horrified at the grammar of my old self. -_- Also taken the opportunity to straighten out warnings in Author Notes.

Author Notes:

I can't thank you enough for keeping up with this fic and reviewing! ^_^ Same warning as always: shounen-ai, and very, very twisted states of mind. Have I confused anybody yet?

To Kitty: The explanation as to why Hisoka thought so is in this chapter. But in truth Muraki and Tsuzuki hadn't got so far. Hm, perhaps I was too implicit in such kind of scene…

Italics are thoughts.
"Quoted italics" are flashback dialogues.
—Italics between dashes— are telepathic thoughts (from Hisoka).

A Wing Short of Flying

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Do we have faith in what we believe? The truest test is when we cannot see.

- Jane Siberry, "It Won't Rain All the Time"

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Chapter Eight: The Descent

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For a few seconds Tsuzuki looked at him blankly.

"…What?"

"Get his gun. Don't you want to get out from here?"

"But I thought you didn't want to—" Tsuzuki paused. "Never mind, that's not the issue now. How did you say I should get his gun?"

A tint of red appeared in the youth's face. "It's in the pocket inside his coat, Tsuzuki. Just take it when you're… groping him."

"Gro—" Tsuzuki blanched as he suddenly understood what Hisoka had been referring to. "What are you talking about? No such thing happened!"

"You were on the floor," Hisoka pointed out matter-of-factly. "Your clothes are disheveled… your shirt is torn."

Tsuzuki looked down at his shirt automatically. "…"

Hisoka turned back to the window.

"I didn't remember how…" Tsuzuki said weakly. Did I really…

"It's all right, Tsuzuki. I'm not blaming you or anything."

"It's not that! I will never—"

"Then all right, it didn't happen," Hisoka said in a tired voice. "It doesn't matter."

Tsuzuki glanced at him. "You're angry." Why can't I remember what happened?

"I'm not."

"Hisoka…" Tsuzuki had to restrain himself from taking the boy into his arms.

"I don't know what I should feel anymore, Tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki stared. Hisoka still wouldn't look at him, so he couldn't see how blank those eyes were.

Then… love me.

If Hisoka had read that thought, he didn't show it. Tsuzuki quickly cast it aside. It wouldn't do to burden the boy with his feelings right now.

But… he already knew anyway, didn't he?

"Do you really want to leave?" he asked carefully.

"I told you before, I would."

"You would leave, because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to." Tsuzuki's tone softened as he continued, "I'm asking you about now."

There was a long silence. "Right now… there isn't anything I would want."

Tsuzuki's throat tightened. It seemed the damage was too great this time.

"…But you want that gun."

The attempted humor fell flat. Hisoka looked at him without expression.

"I don't want that gun in his hands when we're leaving."

Why are you choosing to come with me?

Tsuzuki took a deep breath. "In any case, you have to get well first… and I need to practice moving about on my own."

Hisoka nodded absently.

"And I'll get that gun some other way." Thinking of being within an inch from Muraki made his skin crawl.

"Whatever works," came the impassive reply.

It seemed there was nothing else they could talk about right now. Tsuzuki took Hisoka's book from the table, and handed it to him. "Do you want to read?"

The boy took it without enthusiasm.

If even that cannot cheer him up…

"I'll exercise my walking now," Tsuzuki informed him, and stood up.

Just a brief glance, a flash of worry in the green pools before they turned disinterested again— but Tsuzuki caught it, and his heart warmed up.

He smiled and held back an urge to ruffle Hisoka's hair like he used to do. "I'll be fine. You just work on your recovery, okay?"

Without answering, the boy lowered his head to read, hiding his eyes behind his bangs.

Tsuzuki sighed. If only I can read what he's thinking about.

He started to move himself forward, holding on to the wall. Muraki wasn't likely to give him any more physical therapy, so he would just have to figure this out on his own. Left foot up… forward… step. That felt right. Right foot up… forward… step.

He felt strangely refreshed after the period of sleep – or was it unconsciousness? – which he couldn't remember about. He remembered Muraki injecting that sedative to Hisoka, then… perhaps the doctor had given him some, too?

Up… forward… step.

He could feel Hisoka's stolen glances on him, and the fact made him happy, though he knew the underlying feeling wasn't what he wanted it to be.

At least… it seems he has given up on the doctor.

He was suddenly glad the incident had happened. All his talk couldn't have swayed Hisoka's devotion like Muraki's own actions had done.

That is selfish of me, Tsuzuki thought. But I can't help it.

He was in love.

Step…step…

"Muraki is coming," Hisoka said suddenly. He had stopped reading, if he had done it at all.

Tsuzuki, too, stopped on his tracks. What does he want now?

He realized then that Hisoka had called the doctor with his name. There seemed to be a great change in how he saw his former master. For better? Or for worse?

He noticed Hisoka looking at him strangely.

"What?" Tsuzuki asked.

"…You couldn't remember what happened?"

Tsuzuki shook his head.

"His emotion is strange. There's some sort of… fear."

Tsuzuki could offer no explanation. What exactly has happened? He looked down at his torn shirt again. The edges were tainted with blood, but there were no traces of cut on his skin beneath. Either the cut had healed… or it was someone else's blood.

Blood. The thought made him shudder. He wasn't sure why.

The door opened. Muraki stepped inside.

Fear? Tsuzuki thought. He does walk very cautiously.

The three of them paused in silence.

Muraki closed the door.

Tsuzuki leaned on the wall, waiting. Hisoka examined the cover of his book.

Muraki glanced at Tsuzuki, then observed Hisoka. "You're awake," he said.

Hisoka didn't respond.

"What do you want?" Tsuzuki asked coldly.

Strangely, the doctor seemed to relax as he heard that question. What is he expecting me to do?

"I'm just checking on both of you, Tsuzuki-san."

—Remember, the gun. —

Tsuzuki acknowledged the telepathic message with a slight nod.

Muraki walked past him to the bed. Warily, Tsuzuki shifted to follow him. The doctor sat on the bed, lifted the blanket to reveal Hisoka's thighs. The boy automatically reached for the blanket to cover himself again, but stopped as the doctor began to examine his wounds.

"They're healing fine," Muraki said. Hisoka shivered slightly as he felt the doctor's fingers brushing his skin.

"Take your hands off him," Tsuzuki scowled.

"You're being impossible, Tsuzuki-san… How can I treat his wounds then?"

Hisoka glanced at Tsuzuki, but Tsuzuki couldn't read his expression in any way. Perhaps he's telling me to get the gun now?

Before he could decide what to do, Hisoka suddenly pulled Muraki closer to him. Tsuzuki's eyes widened.

Muraki, too, paused in surprise. His eyes remained wary.

"You said you still wanted me," Hisoka said quietly, clutching Muraki's coat.

"It was you who chose to leave me," Muraki said. He didn't move to hug Hisoka as the boy might have wanted. Tsuzuki noticed his eyes darting between the two of them. He was smart, this doctor.

"I'm sorry," Hisoka said, leaning closer to Muraki's chest.

"Just make sure I won't have to shoot you again," Muraki replied. His hand moved up Hisoka's thigh slowly.

"You won't." Hisoka put his hands around Muraki. "That's what I'm sorry for."

His voice had suddenly turned cold, and he pulled out his right hand from Muraki's coat pocket, the gun clutched in his fingers. He cocked the weapon.

Tsuzuki held his breath.

Muraki quickly attacked that hand to retrieve his revolver. He managed to divert the weapon, just as Hisoka fired it at him.

"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki rushed to his side. He feared where the bullet had gone.

With a hand, Muraki clutched his left shoulder, where the stray shot had penetrated. Blood was flowing from between his fingers. His other hand was fighting with Hisoka's to get hold of the gun.

Tsuzuki took the best course of action he could think of. He reached between them and snatched the weapon away from Hisoka's fingers.

Both pairs of eyes stared at him now.

"Give it back to me, Tsuzuki," Hisoka said coolly, ignoring Muraki's death grip on his right wrist. The doctor's face was stiff, but he said nothing.

Tsuzuki shook his head. The idea of letting Hisoka kill was horrifying.

"I'll kill him for you," Hisoka said. "I'm the one who should do this."

"What do you mean…" Tsuzuki suddenly felt dizzy. Kill… kill…

He saw Muraki's eyes widen, but barely had time to wonder about that. Swiftly despite his wound, the doctor sprang at Hisoka, and seized the boy's throat with both hands.

Hisoka choked. His hands tried in vain to pry away Muraki's strong hands.

"Stop it!" Tsuzuki jerked the gunpoint to rest on Muraki's temple. Only then he noticed his hands were shaking. What is it with me?

Muraki looked at Tsuzuki remarkably calmly, his hands still strangling Hisoka. "You'd love to do that, wouldn't you," he said, slightly heaving. "Kill."

A curious beat pounded on the walls of Tsuzuki's mind. He tried to ignore it and focus on the current situation. "I'll do that if you don't release him!"

Throb. Throb.

The noise in his head continued.

Hisoka seemed to want to say something, but couldn't.

—Cock the g—

What is it? Tsuzuki wanted to ask within his chaotic mind.

"Don't you know how to use a revolver?" Muraki said. "But you've never needed such tools to kill, have you."

Cock the gun, Tsuzuki remembered. I've never needed to use this before…

He saw Hisoka's contorted face as the boy was trying to breathe through the squeezed space. Muraki's face… white…

Tsuzuki shook his head angrily. What am I seeing? And at this point of time…

With a shaking hand he cocked the weapon.

"Why do you hesitate?" Muraki's voice came again. "It'll just be another dead body."

Dead.

—Don't—

Oh, shut up, all of you…

—He…wants you… to…submit…—

"Well?"

Stop all those noises!

—…demon…—

He dropped the gun. Shut up! Shut up!

Cold hands enclosed him.

"Don't be afraid," a voice said. "Let it out."

Tsuzuki slowly released his hands, which had been clutching his head. He felt the nausea rushing in.

"Your demons."

Muraki stood before him. He remembered the same glint in those silver eyes when the doctor confessed his obsession.

"No," he managed. He looked past Muraki's shoulders to the bed. Hisoka lay motionless, his eyes closed.

Dead.

"Don't hold it back. The ones you killed… they deserved it."

Dead. Dead. Dead.

"There is no one to condemn you now," Muraki whispered in his ears. "Return to yourself… Tsuzuki."

"I'm…"

"The descendants of darkness," Muraki said. "You and me."

He let Muraki hold him, comforting him with physical contact. The noises in his head subsided.

"This power…?"

"Not only that. The drive to destroy. The desire to kill."

"But I don't want to…"

"Don't you remember?" Muraki cupped Tsuzuki's face with his hands. "You kept suppressing that, but you never succeeded. It is your nature."

Yes, I remember…

"You tried to kill me."

Tsuzuki looked down at his torn shirt. I did.

"But now, you're afraid to kill. You're afraid to listen to your inmost instincts."

The world was spinning beneath him. Muraki's hands were the only thing that kept him grounded.

"What would have happened if you hadn't killed them? They would have killed you."

"Demon! Demon!"

Yes, they would have.

"... How do you know… all that?" It was getting more difficult to speak.

"I researched on you," Muraki replied, caressing his cheek. "I told you, you fascinated me."

This is so wrong.

"If I were one of them, and you hesitated to kill me… what would have happened to you, and the boy you wanted to protect?"

This is so wrong…

"Don't deny yourself. You are born to destroy. That's what your powers are for."

"No," Tsuzuki replied shakily. "To protect… Hisoka…"

"Who?" Muraki played with Tsuzuki's collar. "The one who keeps looking away from you? The one who loves another man?"

Oh.

"But I told you before… we can do away with love."

Muraki kissed him.

"Forget him," he'd told Hisoka. Perhaps it was time to take his own advice.

Muraki's cold hand slipped past the tear on his shirt.

"Isn't this what you want?"

This touch.

"Not some bothersome emotions that achieve nothing."

This desire.

He placed his hand at the back of Muraki's neck and returned the kiss, more forcefully.

…This lust.

Muraki winced in pain as Tsuzuki pressed on his wounded shoulder without a care.

This is so familiar.

The doctor seized his hands. Tsuzuki frowned in disapproval.

"Before we get to that, I want to clear our way," Muraki said.

"What?"

Muraki glanced at the bed. Tsuzuki followed his gaze.

Funny how the sight of Hisoka didn't hurt him as much as it used to.

Still, he didn't understand what the doctor was getting at. "You want a funeral or something?"

Muraki smiled, seemingly pleased at his lack of reaction. "He's only unconscious."

"Then?"

"He's of no use to us now."

Get rid of him, he is saying.

"I don't see why—"

"So there will be no turning back," Muraki said.

"…You don't trust me?"

Muraki looked at Tsuzuki seriously. "Will you trust me?"

Tsuzuki had to admit that he had a point there.

As he was considering this, the doctor walked to where the revolver lay forgotten on the floor, and picked it up.

Tsuzuki watched warily as he made his way back. That gun was cocked as Tsuzuki had left it. Muraki smiled, and put the weapon into Tsuzuki's hand.

"Why don't you do it, then?"

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Author Notes:

Weird behavior patterns will be explained in the next chapter. ^^0 Feel free to ask, though; I'll make sure to include the answer.