These Fine Things of Heaven and Earth
By: Vain 10/16/2001-
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All previous warnings and disclaimers apply. (It gets redundant nine chapeters in. ^_^V)
Special thank you's are extended to Herongale for beta-ing and letting me bounce ideas off her and Raptor-kun, Jekka-chan, and PeaceKeeper A for listening to me fuss with plot at 2 am on a weeknight.
A/N: I'm not really happy with this chapter, so I may edit and relaunch it later. At the moment I can't figure out how to rewrite it, so I'm releasing it as-is. ^^;;;; Sorry if it's not alright.
Enjoy the fic.
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"No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be true."
~Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Scarlet Letter
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Chapter Nine:
The Taste of a Double Edged Sword
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Ken sat stiffly on the couch and stared down at his knuckles. They were white. His fingers dug into the palms of his hands and he could feel moisture there where he was bleeding. His left cheek ached where his father had backhanded him and he tasted blood in his mouth. The flesh felt as though it had been burnt and he knew a lovely welt had risen there. He didn't mind though; the pain was probably the only thing that stopped him from going insane. An intense unpleasant aching sensation had settled behind his eyes and every time he shifted he saw tiny little spots dance in front of his vision, so he had resolved to be as still as possible.
His father sat across the room from him, as far as he could get without actually being in the hallway, dark eyes boring holes into him. His mother was off telephoning the Moriko woman and probably sobbing hysterically over the phone. It was only her intervention that had stopped Tsuyoshi from beating their son bloody after Tai had been ordered to leave with a very terse whisper.
The boy made no attempts to speak or meet his father's gaze—he was far too involved in repeating the only thing he had been thinking ever since his door opened. They're going to take him away from me. They're going to take him away from me. They're going to take him away from me. They're going to take him away from me. His eyes felt too dusty to cry.
Rika drifted into the room, a slight listlessness about her movements. It seemed that they had all reached their breaking point. "Mori will be here shortly."
No one responded and she hovered in the anxiously doorway a moment, afraid to sit near either of the Ichijouji men.
She rubbed her hands together anxiously. "Would anyone like some tea?"
Her gaze flickered between her son and husband, wishing desperately for one of them to move or answer her. Ken was sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth ever so slightly and staring at his hands with an expression so cold he looked as though he was about to shatter. Tsuyoshi was sitting in an easy chair across the room gripping the arms so hard he appeared to be attempting to tear them off.
The woman shifted uneasily before deciding to try her luck with Ken. He didn't even look up when she came to stand next to him. "Ken, honey . . . Would you like a cold compress for your face?"
The boy didn't move and when Rika looked closely she could see his lips moving as if he was muttering to himself. She winced internally when her gaze slid over to the mark running across his cheek. It had already turned a purple-ish black color and she knew that it was only going to get worse unless it was put under ice.
"Ken . . .? Please talk to me, baby." She reached out to gently stroke his hair as she once had when he was younger, but he jerked away from her touch. "Ken—?"
"Shut up."
Rika froze and felt something inside her tremble at those cold words. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tsuyoshi stiffen, also unable to process what he had just heard his child say. "Baby—"
Ken looked up at her. The cold flatness of his eyes had been replaced by a sudden vacancy that seemed to swallow her whole. His normally smooth expression might as well have turned to a black hole, choking her and leaving her mouth dry. "Shut up," he rasped emotionlessly.
The woman felt herself get smaller and smaller as he spoke in a flat, cruel whisper. "Why are you talking to me like you care? Why are you talking at all? That's all you ever do: talk, talk, talk . . . Can't you do anything else?" he turned away in disgust. "You're all so useless."
Rika's mouth moved silently for a moment before Tsuyoshi overrode whatever she had been attempting to say. The man was leaning forward in the chair, almost straining forward. His wife took one look at his face and knew that it was because he was afraid of what would happen if he left that spot.
"You apologize this instant, young man! How dare you speak to your mother like that!"
Ken looked up at him expressionlessly for a moment, a blank glassy-eyed gaze, and a chill moved through Rika. There was nothing inside him. No light, no life, nothing even remotely human. She reached down to touch him impulsively, to make sure that he was really there and this foreign . . . thing was truly her child. The tips of her fingers grazed his cheek and then simply Ken moved.
There was an explosion—a thunderclap behind Rika's eyes and an electric burning sensation that connected with her cheek, snapped her head back, and forced her to stagger backwards, half falling until her groping hand caught on a wall.
Her son had just slapped her. Hard.
She screamed before the realization even came and cringed back away from the boy, more from shock than anything else. For a split second time seemed to stop, the very Universe itself stunned into stillness by the anticlimactic act. Rika peered out from between her arms at her son, a sudden nausea overtaking her at the sight of his emotionless eyes. He should be angry. He should be breathing hard. He should be anything but absolutely calm—
And then there was a wounded, almost animalistic scream and loud crash as months of tension exploded in one clumsy, graceless motion and Tsuyoshi leapt out of his seat. Rika uncurled just in time to see her husband leap over the coffee table, seize her 14-year-old child by the throat, and slam him into the wall behind the couch. Ken's head smashed into the thin plaster with a strange popping sound and it took her a minute to realize that he had actually dented the wall. Small cracks radiated out from where his head rested in a small circular indentation like a macabre halo and the boy's face turned an angry red color.
The woman's eyes widened at the soft rasping sound the child emitted. "Ken—"
Tsuyoshi's face was bright crimson and the veins in his neck stood out almost grotesquely. His voice, however, was soft and calm. "You," he hissed, "will never, ever do anything like that again. Do you understand me?"
Rika pushed herself off the wall and latched onto her husband's arm, tugging at him in a futile attempt to free Ken. "Tsuyoshi, my son! Get off! Get off him! You're killing my baby!"
The boy's face was slowly turning purple and his eyes rolled back in his head. A thin trail of saliva trickled out of the corner of his mouth from between clenched teeth. Tsuyoshi didn't move.
Rika hammered at the man's broad shoulders. "Tsu, my baby! Let go of my baby!!" She could feel him tremble next to her and for one terrible moment she thought that he would crush the boy's windpipe; he could. Tsuyoshi was very strong and that strength was all the more terrible because he rarely ever used it.
A strange growling, gurgling sound emerged from Ken and Tsuyoshi shuddered violently and released his grip on the child's neck. The boy dropped to the floor in a coughing, choking heap. The head of the Ichijouji house pulled back, seeming to tower over the pile of human being at his feet and Rika threw her arms around him, pinning his trembling arms to his sides and crying silently into his back.
Ken slowly shifted on the floor, wincing in pain as his fingers tentatively rubbed his throat. He chuckled deep in his chest, a raw, scraping sound. Rika squeezed Tsuyoshi tighter as Ken's arid, raspy voice grated against their skin. "Well . . ." he croaked darkly. "Well, now I do know where that Ichijouji temper comes from." The boy smirked as though daring Tsuyoshi to strike him and there was something twisted and ghoulish in the expression. "Father."
Rika inhaled sharply and felt Tsuyoshi's chest rumble slightly as he spoke. "You . . ." His voice cracked. "You need help, Ken."
Ken giggled and tilted his head to the side, the sound of his hair sliding against the wall making a quiet whispering noise. "Me? I'm not the one slamming children into walls. Have care, father. Imagine what the papers would say."
"That smart mouth of yours is just going to get you deeper into trouble, young man," his father ground out. "We are your parents—"
Ken's eyes flashed and he pushed himself upright, swaying almost drunkenly on his feet. "My parents?" He put a hand on the wall to steady himself. "I'd almost forgotten."
A vein throbbed in Tsuyoshi's forehead and the sound of his teeth grinding together was painfully audible in the heavy silence.
"Why do you even bother?" the pale teen continued after a moment. "You people were never parents to me—just people who lived here first and were too ashamed of their failure to get rid of me. I'm not you son. I'm your pet! You're just my keepers and you're barely around me enough for that." His cold eyes turned back to his mother. "How much happier would you have been if I were never born? Or if I really was your perfect Osamu? Do you really think that I haven't heard what everyone says? How often go you lay awake at night and wish for your bastard firstborn?"
Rika dug her nails into Tsuyoshi's arms. "Ken . . ." Tears slid down her face, sliding over the pink welt rising on her cheek to drip onto the floor. "I . . . I love you—"
The boy's face twisted bitterly, pulling his bruised cheek and straining the enflamed skin of his neck and lower jaw. The words failed Rika and she buried her face in Tsuyoshi's shoulder.
Ken turned to his father. "And you . . ." he smirked unpleasantly. "What is there to say about you, dear father?"
The man's face paled and the tension left his body so suddenly that it looked almost like he was collapsing in on himself. "You're going away," he stated flatly.
Ken started to laugh, a cold, strident sound that neither adult had ever heard, devoid of humor and humanity. "You're sending me away?" He sounded amused. "You . . . You?! You're sending me away?!" he sputtered through his laughter.
The grating sound rose in volume and pitch and Rika shook violently at the noise, cowering pitifully behind her husband. It wasn't even laughter anymore—it was some strange, foreign, hiccupped shriek that tore through her like a rusty saw blade. Tsuyoshi lunged forward, tearing his arms from his wife's raptor-strong grip, unaware of his sleeves tearing on her long nails.
"SHUT UP!!" the man roared at the boy. But Ken staggered sideways and out of his father's grasp, still cackling horribly.
Tsuyoshi groaned and Rika sobbed aloud and covered her ears, collapsing on the floor in an indelicate heap. Weaving dangerously on his feet, Ken staggered out into the hall, choking on his laughter. Tsuyoshi's entire body trembled and he didn't trust his legs to take him forward. Rika squeezed her eyes shut.
"Bastards," the boy hissed hatefully between his gasping laughter. Tears slid down his cheeks. "Fucking bastards!!"
He couldn't think. He couldn't see. He couldn't fucking breath. No air . . . No . . .
His back hit the kitchen counter on the opposite side of the hallway. No air. He slid down to the floor, still staring at his frozen father, and vaguely aware that his skin seemed to be burning and he was hyperventilating. He closed his eyes and leaned his swirling, aching head back against the cold wall. Bastards . . . I don't need you. "I don't need you . . ." Oh, Taichi . . . "I don't need you," he muttered.
Was he going to pass out? He couldn't focus. Why was he crying? Where was he? "Taichi." Bastards. Gotta get out . . .
Hands. Hands on him. Touching him. Pulling him. Up. Voices. Sobbing, yelling, demanding . . . Hot. Where am I? No air. A woman screaming. Please stop. Shaking . . . someone was shaking him. Hot. Where am I? Time to leave. I have to leave. Spinning. Blurry. Pushing him. Distant.
Everything was so distant.
"—out of this house!!"
Nothing.
Prodding. Falling. Why doesn't she stop screaming? Too hot for this. Time. To. Leave. Taichi . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Tsuyoshi stared at his son as Ken slumped back against the wall and his eyes rolled up in his head. "I don't need you. I don't need you," he muttered in a slurred voice. His small body shook as though seizing. "Don't . . ." His eyes fluttered shut and his lips opened in a small gasp, but no sound left them.
He had passed out.
For a moment, Tsuyoshi could do nothing but stare at this frail, tiny thing laying on the floor in front of him, a heavy lump in his throat. He shook his head dumbly. Wrong. This was all wrong . . .
Rika's muffled shrieks and painful sobs sent chills through him. Just like when Osamu had died. Just like . . . then. And here was his baby boy . . . his Ken . . .
"Mama? Mama? Where is Oniichan? Why are you looking for him? We left him behind, bemember? Is Oniichan coming home soon, Mama?"
Tsuyoshi swallowed the lump in his throat and staggered towards his son who still lay prone against the wall. He grabbed the boy's arms roughly and forced him to his feet, jerking him up almost violently so that blue eyes fluttered open and closed without comprehension.
"You have to get out of this house," he muttered to the mute and stunned boy. "You cannot stay here . . . No . . ." Not another day.
Rika's wails followed them into the hall. He shoved Ken forward towards his room, nearly falling on top of the child when he fell to the carpet floor. Tsuyoshi dropped to his knees beside the boy and looked down into his face, watching him until tears blinded him and he had to turn away. "Ken."
Dark violet eyes opened slowly and then darted around to see his father beside him. Ken sluggishly tried to push himself up and scramble backwards, but only succeeded in pushing himself back. The bathroom door swung open and he fell onto the tile floor. He lay on the ground and turned to stare at his father, still crouching on the hall floor like a wounded animal. Their eyes met and in that one instant Ken felt the pure clarity of a hatred so heavy he almost cried out. They stared at one another as Ken slowly rose and staggered out into the hall, careful to face his father.
The man pushed himself up and reached towards his son. "Ken—"
"I'm leaving now," he rasped out. "I'm leaving."
The boy walked backwards out of the hall as his father slowly rose with stiff, graceless movements.
"Ken, please! Please!"
The boy shook his head as he backed away. His mother's muffled sobs had faded to whimpers.
Tsuyoshi slowly walked towards him as though he were approaching a startled rabbit. "You need help, Ken . . ."
"No." He continued moving backwards, keeping his eyes on his father. "No. You need help. All of you . . . And I'm leaving now." He stopped when his back hit the door and slowly lowered himself to the ground, one hand fumbling with the lock while the other one grabbed his boots.
Tsuyoshi's eyes flickered towards his wife, silently pleading for help, but the woman was completely gone. The door opened with a loud click. Tsuyoshi tensed and halted, preparing the tackle the boy. Ken took a step forward to pull it open, Tsuyoshi moved forwards, and suddenly the door flew open, knocking Ken to the ground. The last thing Tsuyoshi saw was the stunned face of Doctor Hanamura Moriko as he tackled the woman, knocking her to the ground.
There was a flash of gray, someone cried out, and something hit him in the eye. The man yelled in frustration as he attempted to disentangle himself from the doctor. He succeeded in doing so just in time to see his son dart down the hall to the stairwell.
"No!" He pushed himself to his feet and ran out the door, knowing that there was no way he could ever catch Ken on foot, but also knowing that he had to try. "Ken, stop!!"
He ran down the stairs, his legs shaking so badly that he almost fell several times and watched the lithe boy leap over the railings several times to gain distance. The slower Tsuyoshi went, the faster Ken seemed to go. By the time Tsuyoshi reached the ground floor and ran through the classy glass doors of the front of the building Ken was long gone and all he could do was fall to his knees and stare blankly out into the rain.
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"Today in the weather—"
"Do you need to shed those extra winter pounds?!—"
"The National Diet has decided—"
"Drink Vita-Soy—"
"According to the Prime Minister, this year's Golden Week ceremonies—"
"Hoto Nu-oo~darou! New! Hoto Nooda—"
Taichi lay sprawled on the couch frowning at the television, his wrist rhythmically jerking up and down as he flipped mindlessly through the channels. The loud, overly-genki voices sounded distant and far away and he had not bothered to turn on the lights when he'd stumbled into his empty apartment. The teen's thumb was already sore from pounding on the small rubber keys for the past half hour, but he didn't stop; indeed, he didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing. Wet hair created a heavily soaked spot on the arm of the chair beneath his head and his normally bright eyes were dull and glazed over.
That had been . . . unexpected.
And very much unwelcome.
"Heavy rains are expected to continue while temperatures remain a steady 1 to 5 degrees. A low pressure—"
Tai wondered what had happened after he'd left. His shoes hadn't been laced as he walked back to the subway. He wondered where Ken was, how he was doing, whether or not his sea-shimmer eyes were wide and whether or not the once-Emperor was shaking occasionally like he usually did when he was upset . . . It was raining heavily. What had the boy's parents said? Would they stop Ken from seeing him?
Taichi's frown darkened.
"Do you know where your children are right n—"
Would they take him from him? Could they take Ken from him?
"What does the snow become when it melts?"
The remote slid out of his hand and thumped to the floor dully. No.
No.
This did not end this way—not when he was so close! No! He decided when the game ended, not Ken, and certainly not his parents! This was his game, no one else's!
"What does the snow become when it melts?"
A tanned fist clenched. His game, his decision. His Ken. His. All his.
"It becomes spring."
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The nameless anime on television continued to babble and throw its bright, multicolored shifting light on the motionless young man spread out on the couch.
He supposed he should get the phone. His mother was out of town for the week and Hikari was sleeping over at Miyako's house. They could be calling for something important. Hikari-chan could have forgot her migraine pills or his mother could want to be sure he remembered to heat up the spinach and liver pizza she froze for him. He really should get up . . . But instead the answering machine beeped and his mother's blissfully perky voice overlapped that of the large-eyed girl on TV.
"Moshi moshi. This is the Yagami resident. We're not here, so please leave us a message after the chime! Bai-bai!"
"Tai-kun?"
Taichi groaned and rubbed his face in irritation. "Go away, Yama!"
"Yagami, I know you're there, so pick up the phone. . . . Pick up the damn phone, Taichi!!! Look, I've talked to Takeru and 'Kari and they're worried about you. We all are!"
The brunet scowled as his ears picked up on the background noise of traffic and rain. Was that idiot on his cell phone?
"Do you even know that you've blown Daisuke off three times in the past week? You promised him you'd practice with him! You look like you haven't been sleeping or eating and yesterday Sora says that you nearly ripped her head off when she said that you were spending too much time with Ichijouji!"
The teenager ground his teeth. Shut up, Ishida, just shut up. You'd better not be coming over here. You'd better not want to start something right now . . .
Oblivious to the other's murderous mood, Yamato's tinny voice continued piping out of the small answering machine speaker. "Now I've been more than patient with you, Tai, but if you don't start talking to someone I'm going to tell the others. I mean it, Yagami, if you don't—"
The machine mercifully hung up on him and Tai heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank—"
And then the doorbell rang.
"Ahhh!" With a snarl of rage, the teen stood and stomped over to the door, scowling darkly. "Goddamnit!" He jerked the door open. "If it's you, Yamato, I swear to God, I—"
He stopped abruptly as he found himself staring down into Ken's enormous violet eyes. The younger teen's face was flushed and his pupils were unnaturally dilated. A large bruise streaked across his right cheek and an angry dark ring encircled his upper neck and the soft flesh of his lower jaw where it looked as though he had been choked. He was panting.
Tai shivered in the cold and swallowed hard. "Ken, what are you—"
"Taichi—I—" Tears slid down the soaked boy's cheeks and he fidgeted and averted his eyes. "I—Taichi . . . I . . . My parents . . . We had a fight." Ken started to fall apart then, tremors shaking his body and tears leaving pale streaks on his reddened face. "Can I . . . can I stay here tonight, Taichi . . . please . . .?"
Tai stared at the disheveled boy in front of him and something at the very core of him seemed to tighten and twist painfully. Neither of them moved for a moment and Ken's face twisted as though he was afraid that Tai would turn him away.
Taichi opened his arms and pulled Ken close to him, rocking the smaller boy in his arms as though he were a child. "Shhhh . . ." He lifted the dark-haired boy up in his arms and carried him into the apartment. "It's okay, Ken. It's okay. I'm here."
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Chapter Ten:
And From His Lips He Drew The Hallelujah
A new hymn of praise is written with the help of a liberal use of vodka and handcuffs are all the rage. "There is no light inside the void."
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