Chapter Two
Youji stood back, watching. He didn't think his body was that heavy, but Aya seemed to be having trouble getting his arm under it, trouble lifting him up. He thought his hair looked lighter in this dim light, but decided it was just that what light was there picked out the curves and waves of his hair. Nice. He'd been pretty good looking. It was shallow, but it was better than thinking about being dead, he defended himself, to himself.
Moving around so he could look at Aya, he admitted that Aya was prettier, pretty enough to break his heart. In the dark of the escape passage that red hair was so deep, a russet like the last wine of the day, deep and sweet. Youji reached out to touch the long strand by Aya's face, fingers passing through it. "Why ya angry, baby? It's not that big of a loss."
His fingers traced through a tear on Aya's cheek that he couldn't believe in. Unreal fingers and unbelievable emotion, Youji didn't know which to believe in less.
"I didn't mean it, Youji," Aya said, struggling with the dead weight of the dirty blond killer. "Oh, God, Youji, I didn't mean it!"
"Oh fuck me!" Ken growled, running down into the tunnel, skidding, almost slipping on the blood, "Youji, you idiot!"
Aya's eyes flashed, dangerous. Ken slowed. "Aya?" There was that undertone in Ken's voice, the slight accusation.
"You think I did this?" Aya said, voice a ghost of itself, his free hand covering Youji's cheek, keeping his head from rolling away from Aya's chest.
"Well," Ken lay his wrists over his head, claws catching what little light there was, blocking it from the still soft curls that wanted it so badly. "I wasn't sure you didn't."
Youji laughed, one hand over his mouth, threatening to hold his nose, as if he needed to hide the laughter from someone. There wasn't anyone to hide from now though. God only knew when his ancestors were showing up to fetch him. Still, he didn't really want to offend them before he left the plane. Plenty of time for that later.
He looked up towards the light at the end of the escape tunnel, then back towards Aya and he knew, in the deepest foundation of his soul that he wouldn't leave, even if it offended the crap out of his ancestors.
"It's okay baby, I know you didn't mean it," he said to Aya, and some of the deadly rage drained from that beautiful face. "It's okay, baby, I wouldn't leave you."
Aya reached down and took firm hold of Youji's black coat, thin Teflon lined leather bunching within the tight hold of Aya's fist, compressing under anger and grief. "Damn it, Ken. He's not dead."
Youji blinked. Ken nodded curtly and moved to help Aya. Offense going all around. "Gim'me an arm. We gotta go."
Not dead? The floor turned to so much static and Youji dropped through the concrete, ghostly arms grabbing for floor that wasn't, even as Ken and Aya got his body upright, held between them. "Don't leave me! Wait! Don't leave me!" he screamed into the darkness, clawing against nothing. Falling, feeling gravity, rushing air, he forgot even that he was dead.
He landed on the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet, crouching, panting, lost. He still wore his dark glasses. Mouth dry, he pulled them down his nose a little, hoping to deal better with the minimal light. He was in a room, dark wood panels, books, Persian rug, and the scent of incense burning in the distance. The tip of his tongue moved slowly over his lip as thoughts added up in his mind.
The mission had gone wrong. He'd woken up here. The others might be here too. Sudden fear tightened around his heart. Aya. He needed Aya to be okay. It wasn't polite and he hardly thought he should mention it to anyone, that the ruby ice cube made him feel alive, made him hope that he wasn't such a waste of space. The others were good too. Ken and Omi were family, irritating little brothers, but Aya. And there was something at the back of his mind, that he ought to remember. Something about making Aya mad, but that wasn't really anything new. What ever had happened, drugs? Head injury? Either way, it was clouding his thoughts, and he couldn't remember much beyond being in the Koneko, watching the sunlight play over Aya's hair.
Blood, sharp, coppery, fear scented blood suddenly laced over the air like a decadent death and he found himself licking at the blood in the corner of his mouth. Where had that come from? He rocked back on his heels, wiped his mouth. Wherever the hell he was, there was a door and he could just walk home. Home, home was where sunlight filtered over Aya's hair, where there was some hope of getting Aya to smile. Yeah, he'd just walk home.
He stood, surveying his body for injury. Other than the bleeding of his lip, which didn't seem to want to stop. In fact, he hadn't felt this good in a long time. His back didn't hurt. The break he'd gotten in his arm a few months before didn't have that ache that had just gotten to be a subconscious reminder of being alive, and being an asshole the universe didn't like. He took his glasses off and ran hand through his hair, fluffing it. There was something, just wrong, just off, about the library he was in. Everything was off somehow.
The windows were blacked out. On the inside they were normal windows, four panes each with dark polished wood between. This place was too nice, too much like story book place. Outside though, was nothing, not even the depth of night, just a flat black. "Hello, Youji," a male voice greeted him, gentle, vibrant.
Youji spun away from the windows to find a man with red hair, bright as Aya's, but longer, laying around his shoulders. The man wore a flowing silver shirt, frilly cuffs that lay over delicate hands, tight black pants. "I'm Daniel," the man said, holding out a wine glass with a dark red finding its own equilibrium, staining the sides dark where it rose too high. "Wine?"
Fear. Youji took a step back, glaring over the top of his glasses. "Where am I?"
"This is my house. I hope you'll be comfortable here," he said with a smile, then sipped his own glass, which left just a bit too much red on his lips. "I really wasn't expecting you so soon though."
Youji checked the time on his watch, little finger triggering the release on his wire. "How did I get here?"
Daniel laughed, a sedate snort of a laugh. "I would guess you stood in one place too long. Try the wine. You'll like it."
"No, can't really," Youji said, moving towards the door, even as Daniel moved into the room. "Really must go.
The chair behind the desk seemed to fit Daniel perfectly, probably would have been too small for Youji, but custom made for the red head, who set Youji's glass of wine down, took another sip of his, then smiled. "You're welcome to try. There are many doors in this house, but I doubt you'll find the way out. The place is full of ghosts looking for a door out. Wouldn't do to have the world cluttered up with people who don't want to be there, would it?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Youji reached for his ear, for the com piece that had been there. He was sure. He'd heard Aya say... say that he didn't mean it... Didn't mean what?
"Have some wine, Youji. Forget the door out. Relax. You don't have to fight anymore. I want you here. You might find some old friends here. Besides, you like red heads, don't you?"
The fear that Youji had felt when Daniel first appeared had mellowed, numbed by too much adrenaline, too much fear, but now it was back. There were some clues in what this man said, some rules that shouldn't be broken. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm many things," Daniel said, "but if Daniel is too nondescript for you, you can call me Death. Have some wine. Don't you want to forget your pain?"
Youji ran, just turned and ran. There was a door out. There was. Daniel's laughter echoed down the hall way after him.
Aya paced. Hospitals should have been familiar, comfortable, but they weren't. Three hours and still Youji was lost in a surgery that should have lasted less than an hour. He stopped pacing, accepted a warm paper cup from a pale faced Omi.
Aya sipped his coffee, found it had no taste, watched the face in the window cry. He hadn't meant it. Youji. There were no words, and only his reflection cried.
The bullet had carried a poison, a drug, in the nose. So much more complicated that just a simple clean bullet. Everything was so much more complicated.
Youji stood back, watching. He didn't think his body was that heavy, but Aya seemed to be having trouble getting his arm under it, trouble lifting him up. He thought his hair looked lighter in this dim light, but decided it was just that what light was there picked out the curves and waves of his hair. Nice. He'd been pretty good looking. It was shallow, but it was better than thinking about being dead, he defended himself, to himself.
Moving around so he could look at Aya, he admitted that Aya was prettier, pretty enough to break his heart. In the dark of the escape passage that red hair was so deep, a russet like the last wine of the day, deep and sweet. Youji reached out to touch the long strand by Aya's face, fingers passing through it. "Why ya angry, baby? It's not that big of a loss."
His fingers traced through a tear on Aya's cheek that he couldn't believe in. Unreal fingers and unbelievable emotion, Youji didn't know which to believe in less.
"I didn't mean it, Youji," Aya said, struggling with the dead weight of the dirty blond killer. "Oh, God, Youji, I didn't mean it!"
"Oh fuck me!" Ken growled, running down into the tunnel, skidding, almost slipping on the blood, "Youji, you idiot!"
Aya's eyes flashed, dangerous. Ken slowed. "Aya?" There was that undertone in Ken's voice, the slight accusation.
"You think I did this?" Aya said, voice a ghost of itself, his free hand covering Youji's cheek, keeping his head from rolling away from Aya's chest.
"Well," Ken lay his wrists over his head, claws catching what little light there was, blocking it from the still soft curls that wanted it so badly. "I wasn't sure you didn't."
Youji laughed, one hand over his mouth, threatening to hold his nose, as if he needed to hide the laughter from someone. There wasn't anyone to hide from now though. God only knew when his ancestors were showing up to fetch him. Still, he didn't really want to offend them before he left the plane. Plenty of time for that later.
He looked up towards the light at the end of the escape tunnel, then back towards Aya and he knew, in the deepest foundation of his soul that he wouldn't leave, even if it offended the crap out of his ancestors.
"It's okay baby, I know you didn't mean it," he said to Aya, and some of the deadly rage drained from that beautiful face. "It's okay, baby, I wouldn't leave you."
Aya reached down and took firm hold of Youji's black coat, thin Teflon lined leather bunching within the tight hold of Aya's fist, compressing under anger and grief. "Damn it, Ken. He's not dead."
Youji blinked. Ken nodded curtly and moved to help Aya. Offense going all around. "Gim'me an arm. We gotta go."
Not dead? The floor turned to so much static and Youji dropped through the concrete, ghostly arms grabbing for floor that wasn't, even as Ken and Aya got his body upright, held between them. "Don't leave me! Wait! Don't leave me!" he screamed into the darkness, clawing against nothing. Falling, feeling gravity, rushing air, he forgot even that he was dead.
He landed on the tips of his fingers and the balls of his feet, crouching, panting, lost. He still wore his dark glasses. Mouth dry, he pulled them down his nose a little, hoping to deal better with the minimal light. He was in a room, dark wood panels, books, Persian rug, and the scent of incense burning in the distance. The tip of his tongue moved slowly over his lip as thoughts added up in his mind.
The mission had gone wrong. He'd woken up here. The others might be here too. Sudden fear tightened around his heart. Aya. He needed Aya to be okay. It wasn't polite and he hardly thought he should mention it to anyone, that the ruby ice cube made him feel alive, made him hope that he wasn't such a waste of space. The others were good too. Ken and Omi were family, irritating little brothers, but Aya. And there was something at the back of his mind, that he ought to remember. Something about making Aya mad, but that wasn't really anything new. What ever had happened, drugs? Head injury? Either way, it was clouding his thoughts, and he couldn't remember much beyond being in the Koneko, watching the sunlight play over Aya's hair.
Blood, sharp, coppery, fear scented blood suddenly laced over the air like a decadent death and he found himself licking at the blood in the corner of his mouth. Where had that come from? He rocked back on his heels, wiped his mouth. Wherever the hell he was, there was a door and he could just walk home. Home, home was where sunlight filtered over Aya's hair, where there was some hope of getting Aya to smile. Yeah, he'd just walk home.
He stood, surveying his body for injury. Other than the bleeding of his lip, which didn't seem to want to stop. In fact, he hadn't felt this good in a long time. His back didn't hurt. The break he'd gotten in his arm a few months before didn't have that ache that had just gotten to be a subconscious reminder of being alive, and being an asshole the universe didn't like. He took his glasses off and ran hand through his hair, fluffing it. There was something, just wrong, just off, about the library he was in. Everything was off somehow.
The windows were blacked out. On the inside they were normal windows, four panes each with dark polished wood between. This place was too nice, too much like story book place. Outside though, was nothing, not even the depth of night, just a flat black. "Hello, Youji," a male voice greeted him, gentle, vibrant.
Youji spun away from the windows to find a man with red hair, bright as Aya's, but longer, laying around his shoulders. The man wore a flowing silver shirt, frilly cuffs that lay over delicate hands, tight black pants. "I'm Daniel," the man said, holding out a wine glass with a dark red finding its own equilibrium, staining the sides dark where it rose too high. "Wine?"
Fear. Youji took a step back, glaring over the top of his glasses. "Where am I?"
"This is my house. I hope you'll be comfortable here," he said with a smile, then sipped his own glass, which left just a bit too much red on his lips. "I really wasn't expecting you so soon though."
Youji checked the time on his watch, little finger triggering the release on his wire. "How did I get here?"
Daniel laughed, a sedate snort of a laugh. "I would guess you stood in one place too long. Try the wine. You'll like it."
"No, can't really," Youji said, moving towards the door, even as Daniel moved into the room. "Really must go.
The chair behind the desk seemed to fit Daniel perfectly, probably would have been too small for Youji, but custom made for the red head, who set Youji's glass of wine down, took another sip of his, then smiled. "You're welcome to try. There are many doors in this house, but I doubt you'll find the way out. The place is full of ghosts looking for a door out. Wouldn't do to have the world cluttered up with people who don't want to be there, would it?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Youji reached for his ear, for the com piece that had been there. He was sure. He'd heard Aya say... say that he didn't mean it... Didn't mean what?
"Have some wine, Youji. Forget the door out. Relax. You don't have to fight anymore. I want you here. You might find some old friends here. Besides, you like red heads, don't you?"
The fear that Youji had felt when Daniel first appeared had mellowed, numbed by too much adrenaline, too much fear, but now it was back. There were some clues in what this man said, some rules that shouldn't be broken. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm many things," Daniel said, "but if Daniel is too nondescript for you, you can call me Death. Have some wine. Don't you want to forget your pain?"
Youji ran, just turned and ran. There was a door out. There was. Daniel's laughter echoed down the hall way after him.
Aya paced. Hospitals should have been familiar, comfortable, but they weren't. Three hours and still Youji was lost in a surgery that should have lasted less than an hour. He stopped pacing, accepted a warm paper cup from a pale faced Omi.
Aya sipped his coffee, found it had no taste, watched the face in the window cry. He hadn't meant it. Youji. There were no words, and only his reflection cried.
The bullet had carried a poison, a drug, in the nose. So much more complicated that just a simple clean bullet. Everything was so much more complicated.