Disclaimer - dont own them, just borrowing them.

I dont mean to be full of cliff hangers, really i dont....Well, i got the next bit posted. angst and more angst. sorry! fluff soon to follow. and sometimes fluff leads to more interesting sorts of...stuff. i appreciate the reviews! thankee so much!
-fireun

Hatred…hurt…

Hisoka lurched forward, slamming into one of Watari's chairs, halted in yet another trip pacing across the lab as his stomach convulsed.

So much hatred…

He threw up defenses a second before he managed to comprehend that the emotion was not directed at him. The acidic tang of bile burned its way to the back of his mouth as he recognized that particular brand of self loathing. "Tsuzuki!" Something was horribly wrong…there should be no force on earth capable of causing such anguish in his partner, he was with Tatsumi after all. "Watari, something..."

Anger. So much anger it almost overrode the repugnance radiating from what had to be Tsuzuki. The empathy identified that cold burning as Tatsumi, a very, very irate Tatsumi. It was an invasive, calculating fury that inspired spastic shivering to surge through Hisoka's slight frame. "Wa…t..ta…..tari…"

The scientist gathered the shaking youth into a firm embrace. "What can I do, Bon?"

"WATARI!" Wakaba burst into the lab, eyes wide. "We need you, now. And some sedatives or something…" When Watari moved forward, Hisoka still clutched tightly in his arms, she shook her head violently. "Leave him here, Watari. It looks like it is hitting him already, and it will only get worse the closer he gets. Tatsumi is…well, angry, and Tsuzuki is not in good shape."

"Sorry, Bon." Watari whispered before depositing Hisoka firmly atop a table. He hovered for a moment, choosing between s few vials containing some dark colored fluids and grabbing a large syringe before racing out, Wakaba hot on his heels.

'Tsuzuki is not in good shape…'

The words echoed through Hisoka's head, accompanied by the continual battering waves of loathing. He sat, paralyzed, for a moment before shaking his head once to clear away indecision and cobwebs. 'The hell am I doing sitting here?! They don't know how to take care of him. Not right. He needs me…It is as bad as that night…worse maybe. I don't know how I am going to get through to him.' Hisoka launched himself off of the desk, slammed the door open, mostly by running into it and demanding it move out of his way, and followed the burning tang of Tsuzuki's emotion like a scent hound.

He didn't notice the halls he sprinted through, the direction in which he moved; his mind was wrapped completely in his dear friend's misery. As he skidded to a halt outside the infirmary door it was as if a gauzy curtain was pulled between Tsuzuki's self-hatred and himself- the edges of the emotion were dulled, less sharp and defined. Sedatives. Finally.

"…That was inappropriate, Tatsumi!" The Chief's voice was harsh with displeasure, most likely a result of his own concern for Tsuzuki which Hisoka could feel wafting off of him.

"Sir."

"Can you two argue somewhere else? I don't want anything else to set the boy off." Watari snapped, his temper reflecting his own upset.

"Well, at least the case is solved." That drawl had to belong to Terazuma.

"The suspect dead does not quite count as solved…" a tentative response from Wakaba.

"If Tatsumi could hold his damn temper…" The Chief again…

"We all know how easily he flies off the rocker when Tsuzuki is involved." Terazuma…

"OUT." Watari all but screamed the order. "All of you. Out. NOW."

Hisoka pulled open the door and marched in, just as everyone else moved to vacate, stunned by Watari's demand. The scene inside the infirmary caused his heart to pound to a shaky halt and pause before stammering back into some sort of stressful rhythm. Watari knelt beside a bed, and on that bed lay Tsuzuki, his face a study in pain. His beautiful purple eyes were almost black with anguish, his face lined with agony, pale and sweating. The arms of his shirt were torn and stained a suspicious red in placed; resembling the tears a vicious clawing would result in. Tatsumi knelt by the head of the bed, hands hovering over Tsuzuki's limp arms, almost as if he had been restraining the other man…

"Tsuzuki…" Wakaba had been right. Even muted by sedatives Tsuzuki's emotions burned. "What happened to him?"

"Well…" Chief Konoe started.

"Out." Watari reiterated, not giving an inch. "Hisoka, Tatsumi, stay. All the rest of you, out. This is an infirmary, not a café. Go gossip somewhere else." As soon as the group reluctantly vacated, Watari turned to Tatsumi and nodded once. "Alright, let bon know what happened."

Tatsumi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning a bit back from his hovering position and composing his thoughts. "To be brief, and to the point, when we were investigating this morning we came across an individual in the park. Tsuzuki approached him to start conversation. The man looked up at him…and as soon as their eyes met…" Another deep breath, this one less for cleansing and more to steady himself, then Tatsumi continued. "When their eyes met, Tsuzuki began to scream. The sound…you have to understand, I…"

"Tatsumi took a rather aggressive position at that point." Watari finished, grimacing. "Which resulted in our suspect ending up rather dead."

"From what I can tell, that…man did something to Tsuzuki, almost an empathic assault, which managed to bring back all of Tsuzuki's negative emotions, namely his self deprecating tendency." The usually aloof man sagged; face a mass of unhappiness and anger. "I am assuming he did actual kill all of our victims using a similar tactic, some sort of emotional surge which stopped the heart before they could even facially register the emotion. Tsuzuki presents an interesting barrier to such a power, as he is technically already dead, and his mind has accumulated enough guilt and self hatred through the years to drive any other man past all recovery. So. Instead of dropping dead, Tsuzuki just immersed himself in a familiar sort of emotional bog, leaving him in a state much like when…that man had him."

Hatred raced through Hisoka, the emotion all his own this time; his stock response to any mention of Muraki. He dropped his attention from the despondent Tatsumi, returning his gaze to Tsuzuki's tortured face. "The sedatives will keep him settled for a bit, right Watari?" He managed in a raspy voice.

"That is the plan…"

"Could you leave then please? Both of you?" He was ashamed of the note of pleading he heard in his voice, but pride would not help him here. Tsuzuki needed him.

"For just a bit, bon. I will be back in an hour to check on him." Watari stood, his eyes soft with understanding. "C'mon Tatsumi, lets get some coffee in you and we can try and work things out with the others. Let's see if we can't get the rest of this case hashed out as best we can before we need Tsuzuki's input."

Hisoka watched Watari lead Tatsumi out, waited a few heartbeats longer, then rushed to Tsuzuki's bedside. 'Oh, Tsuzuki…' Hisoka hesitated only a second or two before brushing a hand across Tsuzuki's cheek, wincing as a stronger flash of Tsuzuki's emotion crashed through him.

...Killed them all. Killed them. Hurt. Don't be afraid of me. Don't hate me…I hate me. I don't deserve to exist…deserve to die. Should die…

Hisoka bit his lip, hard, to center himself back in his own head. "Tsuzuki. I am here. I don't hate you, I am not afraid of you. Don't leave me Tsuzuki. Please. You promised…"