**Disclaimers are fun** All the pretty little Tekken things belong to Namco, which I sadly cannot say I work for. Darien and Gren are the creations of Jaeryn, who writes some of the most beautiful original stories you can ever hope to read. The plot is mine, which is unfortunately my favorite hackneyed piece of crap to keep pulling out and rehashing, so no stealy :P
**Warning for all the phobes** This fic contains lemony goodness, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter One
"Come on, Gren, get up," an airy British accent filled Gren's dreams as he was shaken gently awake. He opened his eyes reluctantly to face the pallid ceiling light that provided all the eerie luminescence that the boys' dorm room needed.
"I'm up, Dar, I'm up." Gren sat up and stretched, yawning as he shook auburn strands away from his face. He glanced at the early morning darkness outside, and shuttered at the thought of going out so early and in such a cold wind.
"We're going to be late if you don't hurry up," his roommate chided him. The American gave his usual smirk, casting his olive eyes up at Darien. His roommate was a picture of perfection, his finely crafted face framed by beautiful raven hair.
"All right, all right. Keep your pants on." Gren slid from his mess of sheets and stood, stretching yet again.
"I'd really rather not," Darien giggled, "but if you insist…."
Gren gave the boy a playful shove, "Apparently there's time enough to flirt." Darien flashed him an ivory smile and then walked out. He strode into the small living room and bent over his luggage to check that everything was in its place. Seeing that it was, he stood again and began to double check the reservations they had made. He found that it was all in order as well – bed and breakfast for two, in a cozy Victorian house situated upon the scenic shores of Coeur d'Alene Lake.
Gren came skipping out, bundled up in proper attire that would assure a slightly less level of annoyance at the cold winds outside.
"Ready, lovely?" Darien smiled, excited at the energy Gren showcased. His roommate replied by pulling him into a tight embrace and interlocking their lips, his tongue slipping in to tease the recesses of Darien's mouth. The Brit gave a pleasured moan, and before he could find strength to retaliate from the onslaught, Gren had pulled away and set to gathering up the boys' luggage.
After much stumbling, struggling, and playful bickering, Gren and Darien wrestled their belongings downstairs and out into the parking lot. Being the only one with any sort of measurable strength, Gren began to load the luggage into the trunk of his deathtrap car – an old Mustang which should have been put to rest shortly following last year's noodle incident. Darien sat inside, waiting for his boyfriend to finish as he absently picked bits of dried ramen from the upholstery. Gren shut the trunk – and shut it again three more times before the latch hooked shut – and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine turned over after numerous pleas, praise, threats, and affection had been bestowed upon it. Gren pulled the heap out of the parking lot and drove away from the campus.
"You think this jalopy will make it?" Darien's constant paranoia more than made up for the complete apathy Gren felt towards his car.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry yourself, chief."
The Mustang hobbled off onto the interstate. Gren pushed the car for all it was worth, finally getting it to attain a steady speed that was just barely over the minimum speed limit. He cursed at the car the entire time, despising its lack of speed and reminiscing of better times when it carried him at ninety flat for many miles at a time.
A few hours passed, and Gren forced the Mustang off the highway and onto a curving road that cut through dark pine. Though it was steadily nearing sunrise, it was surprising how few other cars sped by them as they drove.
"Come on, you piece of crap." Gren pounded on the dashboard. "It's been three fucking hours and still no heat from this thing."
"I'm certainly no mechanic," Darien said, yawning, as he slouched in the seat next to him, "but I'd hazard a guess that beating the hell out of the dashboard tends to be more detrimental than anything else."
Gren stuck out his tongue. "Fag."
"Yep!" Darien grinned happily.
The wheels beneath them suddenly slid. Gasping, Gren fought to steady the car as it swerved on the road. Darien tensed in his seat, eyes wide with fear as he watched a pair of headlights nearing their own out-of-control car.
"G-gren…."
The brunette looked up from his frantic battle with the wheel seconds before the impact shook them roughly. The sound of crushing metal deafened them, and the two cars went darting off in separate directions a split second after they had hit. The Mustang slid into a frosty ditch, bucking as it hit the curving ground and landing again into a tree.
An eerie silence followed. Gren weakly looked up from the crumpled position that the turbulence had forced him into. Sticky warmth dribbled down his forehead. He moved his hand to touch it and instantly regretted it, the extension drawing a sharp pain from his stomach. He looked over at Darien, who was slumped over the dashboard. His lover's beautiful skull had struck glass, and now cold winds hissed in between the cracks of the windshield.
"Darien…?" Gren whimpered gently, then, seeing he elicited no response, gathered his energy to speak louder. "Darien?"
The Brit gently lifted his head, his face dripping crimson upon dark plastic.
"Oh God…. Darien…." Ignoring the stabbing pain that assaulted him, Gren wrenched himself free from his seatbelt and squeezed through the compacted area to take his lover up in his arms. He held him there, weeping, the boy slipping away in his grasp. Gren's arms slid against Darien, and he quickly readjusted his hold. Darien seemed to slide away again, and again Gren readjusted, his eyes opening weakly to gaze down at his lover. What he beheld struck terror deeply into him, like an arrow finding its one true shot. Darien's body was crumbling, dissolving into a soft powder.
"Wh-what… what the hell…." Gren held onto him more tightly. "No. No! Don't you dare leave me!" But the change did not end, and soon Darien was no more, even the soft ashes disappearing on the wind. Gren began to panic, grabbing weakly at the space that once held his love. He was abruptly stopped by a sharp pain that struck him. He sat back, gasping for air, and realized that he, too, was beginning to fade in the same manner. He closed his eyes, letting it come, and soon it had engulfed his entire body.
Gren found himself thrown into a brilliant tunnel of neon spectrum. Darien was beside him, though his body still limp and unconscious. Gren had barely caught a glimpse of his lover before Darien was plucked from the vortex. Another sharp pain struck Gren, an intense sensation of something being wrenched from his chest, and in a swift moment, he was lost to a world of darkness.
* * *
Gren inhaled sharply, soft sunlight jarring him from his sleep. He rolled over where he lay and curled up, groaning with each movement as it aggravated his aching body. His fingers dug into cool blades of grass beneath him, and he slowly opened his eyes.
He sat up quickly, shocked at the change in his surroundings. He sat upon a hill amid forest, a small stream trickling just a few feet away from him. He steadied himself and stood, then blinked as he remembered the past few moments he had experienced. He cast his eyes downward at himself.
"Oh.. Christ…." His breath passed through clenched teeth in a gasping hiss. He no longer recognized himself. His frame was roughly the same height, though was now built thick with muscle and striped with scars, the biggest of them being one that cut horizontally against his chest. He lifted his hands to gaze upon them, now thick and powerful. He remembered the water nearby and dashed, half-stumbling, to it, falling to his knees to gaze upon his reflection. A middle-aged Japanese man stared back, his greasy hair slicked back to a point and wide eyes glittering with a repressed crimson.
"Kazuya….?" He sat back, swallowing and burying his face in his hands. "No… no…. This is insane. Fucking insane. I… I died back there, and…."
A pained moan greeted his ramblings, and his head snapped up to stare over at the small girl who lay in a crumpled pile beneath a fallen tree. He stumbled to his feet and raced over to her.
He grumbled as he recognized her, "Ling Xiaoyu. Wonderful. Another person who doesn't exist." He bent down over her, his eyes casting across her young form, dripping with crimson. "Hey. You. Uh... Xiaoyu." He shook her gently, until she lifted her head to stare up at him with hazy chocolate eyes. She reeled, sending the man flying backward with the last few ounces of strength she possessed. Gren landed hard on the soil, grimacing as his own injuries complained.
"Monster," Xiao spat, struggling to stand.
"Listen," grumbled the faux Kazuya, "I was just trying to see if you were okay."
Her reply was no less than shocked and slightly disgusted, "….What?"
He pushed himself to a stand, wincing, "Yeah, you know, generally people do that when they find someone injured."
"True," glared the teen, "but generally people don't injure one another. Especially when those people are thirty years older than their opponents."
Gren blinked, "I did that to you?"
Ling's response came accompanied by an eyeroll, "No, I tripped. What, did you hit your head? Hello! This is a tournament here!"
"A… tournament…." Gren swallowed. He was expected to fight, and, though it hadn't dawned on him yet that he didn't exactly know how, he was frightened at the prospect of having to be distracted from finding out why exactly it was he had awoken upon the ground as a fictional person who was the creation of a Japanese gaming company.
The girl took up her fighting stance, "There an echo in here? Come on, jerk, I'm ready for round two."
Shit. Gren looked down at his aching body and then did his best to position it into a mimicry of the stance he had seen Kazuya strike upon his 16" screen so many times. His eyes flickered back up just in time to catch a full view of Xiaoyu's palm before it struck him against the nose with tactically locked joints, sending him stumbling back. He gasped faintly, blood splattering against his cheek with the impact. She was upon him quickly again, her spine impossibly flexible as she bent and swept her foot beneath her, striking him painfully against the ankle and forcing him to the sod.
Something suddenly clicked deep within Gren's borrowed body. His muscles tensed, power filling him in a flash. A groan escaped his lips, the feeling of his new chi bringing him an amazing new sensation. Xiaoyu dove again to attack, and without thinking, he dodged and parried with a beautifully executed kip. She was instantly down upon the ground, and Gren followed, lifting her from the moss in an unconventional grip by her throat.
Xiaoyu struggled, whimpering and flailing in Gren's thick hand. His right eye flickered crimson, and a smirk curled his lips as he applied more pressure to his hold. He lost himself in the pleasurable rush of power, watching as she lost her voice and slowly fell limp in his grasp. He drew her in close, admiring what he had done. Then, as suddenly as the raging energy had come, it was gone. He blinked, his expression falling to a confused one. He looked down at the pale girl and dropped her quickly. He took a step away, eyes wide as he gazed down upon her.
"What have I done…?" He bent down and gently touched her. A pulse… good…. He turned her gently over to rest on her back. And still breathing. He stood. Well… I guess I won. Maybe now I can find out what the hell is going on. Gren glanced around and then made his way slowly away from her, walking off through the trees to make more sense of what had become of him.