Yohji sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Through the small skylight directly above them, he had watched the sun rise and then set again. At least the rain had stopped. A small moan and movement drew his attention away from the skylight and back to the figure he held in his arms.
It had been a long night and day. Aya's fever seemed to steadily worsen, and his breathing had become progressively more difficult. Yohji could hear him wheezing, and, when he took a fairly deep breath, there was a tell-tale rattle deep within his lungs, indicating that his cold, which none of them had thought was very serious, had probably worked its way into a lovely case of pneumonia. Obviously, Aya had been a lot sicker than he had let on to any of them, and Yohji frowned as he looked down at his sleeping companion. It irritated him that the redhead gave no more thought than that to his own safety, but the tall blonde contented himself with the idea that, once Aya was back on his feet, he'd just beat the crap out of him for making him worry like this, and for dragging him out into last night's rain.
Aya groaned and pushed against the warm embrace holding him. He muttered something, but Yohji couldn't understand it. The redhead had been haunted by feverish nightmares. He had tossed and turned, struggling against unseen demons, almost continuously, and had only settled into a relatively calm sleep about an hour ago. Yohji had slept, off and on, sitting up and leaning against the kitchen wall, holding Aya against him for warmth. He hadn't had an easy time hanging onto the injured man, and his body ached from the bruises Aya had inflicted on him. He rubbed at a particularly painful bruise under his eye, the result of a sudden elbow jab as Aya had struggled to escape, and thought that it would have been a lot easier to just let the redhead go. But, Aya had needed the warmth of his body heat, and Yohji had been able to hear him calling to his family and begging them not to leave him, which made him understand that the redhead also needed to know he wasn't alone. Aya shifted and moaned again, and Yohji looked down to see two tired violet-blue eyes blinking up at him.
"Hey. Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," he said. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. When Aya shifted again, Yohji asked, "You want to try sitting up?"
Aya nodded and Yohji pushed the red-head away, so that he was sitting up by himself. At first, the swordsman listed crazily to one side, as if he was going to fall over, and Yohji gently steadied him. After a few minutes, he seemed to have regained his balance, and he brushed Yohji's hands away.
Aya sighed heavily, which led to another wheezing, coughing fit that shook his body roughly. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward, until his head was almost touching the floor. Yohji watched, uncomfortably aware that he couldn't do anything to help.
When the coughing fit finally subsided, Aya asked, "Water can I have some?" His voice was hoarse, and it cracked as it hit the high point of his question.
"Sure," Yohji replied.
He scooted out from behind the redhead and stumbled toward the sink, struggling to regain the feeling in his legs. Within seconds, he was back at Aya's side with a cup of water. He helped steady the cup to prevent the redhead's shaking hands from spilling the liquid contained within it. After a few sips, Aya allowed Yohji to pull the cup away.
"So, how you feeling?" Yohji asked.
He sat back on his heels and watched the injured man closely. Aya didn't respond right away. He just stared at Yohji, although the unfocused look in his eyes made the blonde feel like Aya was staring through him at the wall behind, instead of at him. He leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them to an arm's length, and gently brushed the back of his hand against Aya's cheek.
Aya impatiently swatted at the older man's hand, which made Yohji smile. At least the redhead seemed to be clinging tenaciously to his normal, grumpy personality, which told the blonde that he hadn't gone over the edge quite yet. Once he managed to focus his eyes, Aya stared at Yohji for a few minutes. Finally, he asked, "Wh what happened to your eye?" He reached up to touch his own eye, as if to visually explain his question.
"Huh?" Yohji asked. He touched his face, in imitation of Aya's gesture, and winced as his fingers came into contact with the painful bruise under his eye. "Oh, that uh, you kinda had a rough night." In response to the raised eyebrow and questioning look he got from his companion, he elaborated, "elbow."
"Sorry," Aya muttered. He looked away, as if he was too embarrassed to look at Yohji.
"It's all right," Yohji reassured him. "It was an accident." He cupped his hand under Aya's chin and pulled the younger man's head around, forcing Aya to meet his gaze. "It was an accident," he repeated. When Aya nodded slightly, he asked, "So, you want to try getting back to the cars? You feel up to it?"
Aya dropped his gaze back down to the floor and muttered, "I I don't think I can. You go."
Yohji shook his head. "Sorry. That's not an option." He stood and offered Aya his hand as he said, "Either we go together or we don't go at all. If you can't make it, I'll call Omi and have him come down to get one of the cars and pick us up."
Aya stared at Yohji for a moment. He had a shocked look in his eyes, as if the blonde's sudden mutiny surprised him. Finally, he shrugged and said, "No. It's bad enough you had to come after me. I don't want to get Omi involved, too." He took Yohji's hand and allowed the older man to pull him to his feet.
Yohji frowned as he helped Aya stand. The redhead's words caused a fresh wave of guilt to wash over him. Either Aya had forgotten the mission details, probably thanks in large part to his fever and the injuries he had suffered, or he wasn't holding any grudges regarding the older man's unexpected absence. But Yohji couldn't forget that he was supposed to be with Aya all along, and, if it hadn't been for his little detour at the bar the night before, they probably wouldn't be here right now. He knew he would be reminding himself of that fact until their leader was back on his feet again.
Yohji steadied Aya when he came close to falling. Once it seemed that the swordsman had sufficiently gained his balance, Yohji retrieved his coat, which was now dry, and handed it to the redhead.
Aya stared at the coat without taking it. He glanced at Yohji and then quickly turned away to stare at the floor, muttering, "I have a coat of my own. I don't need yours."
Yohji sighed and silently counted to ten before he spoke, so that he wouldn't say something he would regret. Aya always made it so hard for anyone to help him or even like him, and, normally, his statement would have resulted in a temper tantrum and the withdrawal of any offered assistance on Yohji's part. But, this time, he just couldn't bring himself to be angry with the redhead. The words had been angry, but the tone of voice had only been tired, and Aya looked embarrassed at needing someone else's help. He couldn't even meet Yohji's gaze. The blonde couldn't forget the nightmares that had haunted his friend while he was asleep, and he could still hear the flat, matter-of-fact tone of Aya's voice when the redhead had told him that he didn't belong anywhere or matter to anyone.
Once he had gained control of his initial anger enough to be confident that he wouldn't say anything he'd regret later, Yohji stepped forward and dropped his coat over Aya's shoulders as he said in an even, firm voice, "Stop being such a shit, Aya. It's cold outside. Your coat's still wet. And, it's got holes in it. You'll wear this one, and I don't want to argue about it."
Aya didn't move. He stared at Yohji, his eyes wide in surprise. But, after a few moments, he quietly began to struggle into the coat, much to Yohji's satisfaction. Aya winced as the wounds in his shoulder and side pulled painfully when he tried to push his arms through the sleeves, prompting Yohji to step forward to assist him. As soon as he had assured himself that Aya was ready to face the cold night air, Yohji pulled on the swordsman's coat, and shivered as the cold, wet lining touched his bare torso and back.
Yohji cautiously pushed open the back door of the restaurant, which would release them back into the alley where he had first found Aya hiding. As the door opened, a gust of wind blew through the alley and caught the door, pushing it back into the room. Yohji jumped backward, taking Aya with him, to avoid being hit by the door, and accidentally slammed the swordsman roughly into the nearby wall. The redhead groaned as his body hit the wall, and Yohji barely caught him before he slid all the way to the floor. He pulled Aya back onto his feet and steadied him by placing his hands on the swordsman's shoulders, frowning as Aya leaned forward dizzily with his head resting against the older man's chest. The redhead's breathing was harsh and strained, as if he couldn't quite catch his breath, and Yohji silently cursed himself for treating his injured friend so roughly.
"Aya! I'm sorry," Yohji said, lifting the younger man's head to look into his eyes. "Are you are you all right?"
Aya nodded, and, when he finally managed to catch his breath, he replied, "It's OK. I'm OK." He smiled at Yohji and weakly pushed himself off of the older man's chest. "It it was an accident," he continued. He gently patted Yohji on the shoulder, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the friendly gesture, and said, "Let's uh, let's get going."
Yohji silently followed Aya out of the kitchen and into the cold wind blowing through the alley. If he didn't know better, he would have thought their stone-cold leader had been trying to comfort him. He stared at Aya's back as the swordsman shivered in the wind and wrapped his arms around himself, as if that would fend off the chill. After pausing for a few moments to pull Yohji's coat a little tighter and to flip the collar up to keep out the wind, Aya slowly began to move down the alley toward the street.
He shook his head and muttered to himself, "Aya being nice. Weird. Too damn weird. He's gotta be really sick, to act like that."
Yohji was still muttering under his breath when he caught up with the redhead. He pulled Aya to a stop and shrugged as the younger man glared at him. "It's cold out in the wind," he said in response to the hostile stare as he zipped up the coat. "All right. Get moving," he growled, gently shoving Aya toward the street.
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They walked in silence. Both of them were too tense and too busy looking for police to feel like talking, and Aya's strained, harsh breathing would have prevented conversation, even if he had felt like it. It was obvious that the police had, basically, given up searching for Aya in this part of town. An occasional patrol car would cruise by, forcing the two assassins to duck into a dark alley to avoid being spotted, but it seemed like it was only this area's normal police presence. It was nothing like the night before, when Yohji had practically had to slink from shadow to shadow just to avoid the police crawling all over the street.
They had cleared a little over half the distance to the cars, and Yohji was starting to feel almost confident about reaching their goal when Aya, who had been trailing slightly behind, suddenly stumbled and fell heavily against him. Yohji was practically running on auto pilot, lost in his thoughts, and he tripped and almost fell when he felt the redhead's weight fall against his back.
"Hey, careful!" he snapped. He twisted around and barely managed to catch Aya in time to prevent the younger man from falling heavily to the wet pavement. He gently lowered his companion to a sitting position on the ground and squatted in front of him.
Any anger he might have felt died when he got a good look at his friend. Aya was shaking, and all of the color had drained from his face. His teeth were chattering together, telling Yohji that he was cold, but sweat stood out on his pale skin. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and it was obvious that he had been moving on will power alone.
"You OK?" he asked worriedly.
Aya nodded and leaned heavily against Yohji, his head resting against the older man's chest. "I'm fine. I just need to rest a little," he panted.
Yohji pushed Aya's bangs aside, ignoring the glare he earned from the younger man, and felt Aya's face. He frowned. "Like hell you're all right," he snapped, wincing internally at the harsh tone of his own voice. "That fever's worse. I don't think you have the strength to go the rest of the way." He glanced around desperately, as if searching for assistance, and sighed in frustration when he found only thin air. He looked back to Aya and sighed again, this time in resignation. "All right," he said, quietly. He grabbed Aya under the arms and began to haul the younger man to his feet.
"Leave me alone," Aya snapped. He struggled against Yohji's grip and pushed the older man away roughly, succeeding in bringing them both back down to the ground. He stared hostilely at Yohji and snapped in a hoarse, icy voice, "I'm fine. I can walk on my own. I I don't need your help."
Yohji barely managed to cushion Aya's fall with his own body. He was tired, wet, and cold, and his irritation with his stubborn teammate was rising by the moment. He leaned back on his heels and silently watched his companion, who had struggled weakly away from him and now sat a few inches away, panting and watching him with an angry, icy stare. Yohji retrieved his sunglasses, which had fallen to the ground during his brief struggle with the swordsman, and cleaned them off before replacing them on his face. He pulled the glasses down slightly and stared at Aya over the rims.
"Why the hell are you so damn stubborn?" he asked. Aya just stared hostilely at him, and Yohji could feel his anger growing. After all, he was only trying to help. It was obvious that Aya didn't have the strength to walk the rest of the way to their cars, and it was also obvious that the swordsman was determined to hold a grudge against his rescuer. "I'll never understand why you're such a little shit!" Yohji hissed angrily, staring up at the sky as if it would offer him the answer to his question.
"I I don't need help. From you or anyone," Aya snapped. His words and the tone of his voice were harsh and clipped, but the exhaustion in his eyes told Yohji that it was all a bluff. The older man could tell that Aya was struggling to remain conscious, and it was taking all of the redhead's strength to maintain his normal harsh tone and icy demeanor.
Yohji sighed in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair as he muttered, "Yeah, right. You don't need any help at all." He stood and turned slightly away from the younger man. "I'm sorry, Aya," he muttered. Before the redhead could respond, Yohji whirled around and landed a solid kick against the side of Aya's head.
He had pulled back at the last instant, to avoid hitting the swordsman with the full force of his kick, but Aya groaned and dropped forward like a sack of lead. Yohji just barely managed to catch him before he landed on the wet concrete, and he wondered, for a moment, if he had kicked the redhead too hard. With a shaking hand, he felt the younger man's throat and sighed in relief when he found a steady pulse. He placed one hand behind Aya's back and the other under his knees and gently lifted him off the ground. It wasn't much farther to the cars, and they were far enough from downtown that Yohji didn't think they had to worry about being spotted by any police patrols. Aya was limp and still in his arms, which made Yohji distinctly uncomfortable, as did the guilt that he felt. He wasn't normally one to feel guilty over his actions, but the past couple of days had caused him to become all too intimate with that particular emotion. He shifted so that the younger man's weight was more comfortable in his arms and rested Aya's head against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he repeated as he carried his burden into the dark, chilly night.