Winding Down IV - Full Circle

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. All rights with their original owners/creators. Shame though.
Warning: NC-15/M. ANGST.

xxx

Thank you to everyone who reviewed my stories. For some of the terms I used, please see the NOTES section at the end of this chapter. I would love some feedback - let me know whether you liked the story so far.

Cheers
Aabunai

xxx

Aya quickly felt Yohji over, touched something hot and sticky soaking the front of his shirt and found the bullet wound to his chest. He hardly knew what he was doing, instincts taking over where clear thoughts abandoned him and his heart sang in agony.

He withdrew his blood-covered hand and rose to his feet to face the three young men.

The youth with the gun still held the thing trained at them, though his hand was not steady, and his boisterous companions had gone rather quiet and jittery. The sea breathed into the summer night, the occasional car buzzed past on the highway, and in the distance, the great city hummed with unceasing restlessness.

Aya swung back the katana, the tip pointing towards the ground, ready to strike up and forward with deadly force."The key to your car," he demanded icily, stretching out the bloodied hand.

"Fuck you," the lad snarled and shook off one of his companions who tried to tug him back by the shoulder.

"The key!" Aya's voice dropped a register as he closed in with a couple of long, smooth strides, the blade glinting faintly in the garish neon colours of the diner's electric billboard."I know this type of gun," he said, hardly loud enough to be heard above the murmur of the sea."You had six shots. The chamber is empty; you'd need a new clip to kill me." A tremor ran down the length of the blade as he lifted it just slightly."This faggot only needs the big knife here."

"The key's in the car," one of the other two boys spluttered, yanking at the arm of his friend."He's not dead, is he?"

"If he is, I'll find you little shites no matter which ass you're gonna crawl up to hide in, and I'll fuck you bloody before gutting you. Pull out your car," Aya hissed, "now! And don't even dream of trying to run off, or I'll cut you down without warning. Hurry!"

He did not wait but was with Yohji in a flash. He turned him and saw bloody foam drizzle from his mouth over his chin, breath coming in ragged gasps, rattling damp and deep in his chest, accompanied by wheezing sounds. Aya pried the shirt open, then rushed for the military first aid kit they kept in the gloves compartment. Methodically, he cut and tore fabric until he had laid the wound bare – he suspected that the bullet had pierced a lung. Bad if they could not get into hospital in time, yet if they did, Yohji stood a good chance of recovering. Aya taped the crimson hole shut with a scrap of sterile plastic foil.

"Ay. . . Ran," Yohji rasped, trying to drag his eyes open, trying to breathe – Aya knew he could feel his lungs filling up with blood, as though he was drowning, the taste foul and metallic, and even with the smallest breath, he would be suffocating and choking at the same time.

"Shut up," Aya snapped, "why didn't you listen?" He watched the three youngsters trying to dig out their car and push it back onto the road, but the sand was deep, they were panicked, screaming at each other, yelling blame and abuse, and way too high to accomplish anything.

In the trunk of Yohji's car lay some stiff fibre glass poles of the old-fashioned, telescope type, along with strong rubber backed canvas sheeting for a field-style tent. Aya had often enough teased him about it - afraid of missing an opportunity in the countryside, Yotan, so you lug your fucknest around with you? Man, you must so need it...

Now he yelped with relief that the thing was still there. Quickly and methodically, he spread out the sheeting, placed two of the stakes on it and folded each side of the canvas over both poles to build a makeshift stretcher. He dragged Yohji onto this, lifted the bars and began to haul him up the slip road.

Behind him, he heard the young men argue, scraps of sounds, the wash of waves over sand, the breeze and the whoosh of vehicles passing on the highway. Where the sea kissed the sky, a sliver of pale light began to paint the horizon, and through the orange dusk that lay over the city passed the tiny lights of a plane, blinking red and yellow like moving stars, or fireflies. Yohji had chased fireflies for him, once, in one of his silly moods when they had been fooling around on the beach not far from here. Now everything sank into a puzzle of sounds and lights that did not make sense to his conscious mind, but his body moved as of its own accord, panting, straining, sweating with effort and fear.

He had not yet reached the embankment of the highway when a car slowed down, pulled into the junction and turned, then stopped, tyres grinding on sandy tarmac. Aya stilled, the poles of the stretcher caught under his elbows, and stared in disbelief as the driver door flew open and a lanky frame unfurled from the seat. Copper hair flying in the breeze, long legs and a certain sway to narrow hips – Aya blinked sweat from his eyes, but it was no hallucination because the man kept stalking towards him.

"Schuldig?" Aya gasped.

"Guten Morgen, Abyssinian," came the soft reply. /1/

Aya cramped one hand around the hilt of his katana."I need your car."

Schuldig cast a quick glance over the lifeless form on the stretcher, then nodded and lit a cigarette."I shall be your faithful taxi," he said quirkily."Well, whatcha waiting for?"

They managed to shove Yohji onto the backbench, his legs folded up, one arm dangling to the floor of the car, while Aya climbed into the passenger seat, the bare sword across his lap. Schuldig tossed the cigarette over his shoulder before slipping in, and without a word he revved the engine and screeched back onto the highway.

Aya sucked in a hissing breath and pressed himself into the seat as Schuldig raced back to the city. If he moved fast, he drove faster still, pale blue eyes unblinkingly concentrated on the sparse traffic that began to grow denser as they closed in, the first sign of the morning rush hour approaching. Aya watched Yohji in the rear mirror. If he would moan at least, but he lay so terribly still, every shallow breath rattling with fluid deep in his chest.

"How careless," a flat whisper reached his ears.

Aya rubbed his eyes and then stared out at the glittering lights of the city that swallowed up the dusky dawn. Schuldig's soft words sank in only belatedly, and Aya briefly glanced at him. Meeting clear, cool eyes for a split second before they flicked back at the road. Aya felt chill."He didn't want me to... I should have killed them."

Schuldig shrugged."Why didn't you?"

Aya paused, the ache in his chest growing heavier with each breath."He'd hate me for it."

"He might not live to hate you," Schuldig pointed out, swerving wildly to avoid ploughing into a delivery van, then cut across three lanes to catch a turn and shooting past a red light, fractions of a second before the opposite stream of traffic dashed forward. Angry hoots faded quickly into the distance behind them.

Indeed, it crossed Aya's mind incongruously, Yohji always liked risky driving.

Schuldig pressed the gas down again."Or is it a beyond-the-grave thing, Abyssinian?"

Aya bit his lip."Why were you there?" he ground out, hating Schuldig for every spike of pain his prodding lanced through him.

Another sharp turn knocked Aya against the door and had the katana poking at Schuldig. The tip sliced easily through his jeans, drawing a fine line of blood along his thigh."Take that thing away from me now, would you," he said quietly. "I've been stalking you for a bit and happened to be around. How stupid of him to get into such a mess, but then he always was a bit daft like this."

"Shut up." Aya pulled the katana back when he much rather wanted to shove it right through Schuldig's narrow waist.

"Too sweet for his own good," Schuldig said, rumbled up a curb to avoid an oncoming car that was just passing a van parked to unload in front of a shop, and steered skilfully around stacks of boxes and pallets. "Is this why you want him, Abyssinian?"

"Can't you drive more sensibly? He isn't dead yet."

"He will be if I slow down," Schuldig retorted, glaring intently at the buzzing street they were dashing down. The hospital was close, a multi-storey glass fronted building rising between more old-fashioned concrete facades. They could already make out the wide entrance, with ambulances parked or moving out, cold neon light spilling out from the large double doors of the emergency reception. Schuldig seemed to know the place rather well, for he pulled up on the emergency ramp with screeching brakes, slotted the vehicle securely into a space between a couple of ambulances, and was out of the car and yelling for a doctor before Aya could scramble after him.

Moments later, Schuldig and a nurse had to pry Aya off the emergency stretcher where he lay half-draped over Yohji and whispered madly into his ear. A gaggle of white and green coated medical personnel hurriedly wheeled away the bed with Yohji's silent form on it, and Aya found himself dragged into a small cubicle, fenced with metal-framed green canvas screens, even as the doors of the operating theatre swung shut.

This closing of doors sent a wave of ice through Aya.

Wrought up and no longer bothering to hide it, his face flecked with crimson patches, his clothes and his hands bloodied, he refused to sit down or wash. The nurse shot him unsettled glances, and he realised that he still clasped the blank katana to his chest. Without a word, he sheathed it and leaned against the door."I'm listening," he grated.

Schuldig turned to the woman, a toothy grin plastered over his young face."No," he said, flicking his wrist to show her something in the palm of his hand, "we will not need the police here. We're already taking care of this. I gotta leave now; the gentleman here will go through the formalities with you." He stalked towards the door, and on his way out lightly brushed his arm against Aya's."How careless you are," he breathed, "with the things you love…"

Aya stiffened."Piss off," he muttered.

Schuldig smiled."I'm about to. Got unfinished business to attend."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the nurse blinked at Aya in irritation."Now, Mr. . ."

Aya started from his daze."Satoh /2/ he answered automatically, having rehearsed his new identity often enough to know it in his sleep."Satoh Mareo /3/. He's my brother, Yasuo /4/. He's a private investigator. Had an accident with his gun while cleaning the thing."

She completed an admission form and signed it, then pushed it over to Aya, along with a pen."Please Satoh-san, would you mind filling in his insurance number?"

"He hasn't got one anymore. We were about to move away." Aya read, signed, and handed paper and pen back to her; then he got up."You can charge the bills to my account; I have completed the details for you. Now, is that it? If you don't mind, I'd like to wait by the theatre."

xxx

Aya spent endless hours pacing in front of the operating theatre, moving no farther than a dozen steps either direction. He refused to let go of the sword and threatened the nurse and the doctor who tried to talk him into giving it up. Only when they mentioned hospital security did he reluctantly yield, too afraid of getting thrown out, and handed them the blade without further fuss.

People came and went. The red light above the theatre door was still on. Aya felt hollow and cold. He would have to make some phone calls later to rearrange his travel plans. Later, he thought, everything is always later, and sometimes it is too late. . .

In the afternoon, he had to sit down, exhausted, hungry and dehydrated, and his glance fell upon a newspaper someone had read and left behind on one in the row of plastic chairs. 'Mince meat for diner,' a headline on the folded over open page yelled, 'Police investigating gory deaths of three teenagers. Staff leaving for home after their night shift at a beach diner, located at a renown beauty spot, under severe shock after stumbling across chopped-up bodies this morning. . . '

Aya dropped the paper, buried his face in his hands and sat motionless, staring vacantly through his splayed fingers at the smooth white floor. He felt numb and hollow, so much that he was not even surprised when a pair of sneaker-encased feet approached and halted in front of him. A faint whiff of cool aftershave washed over him, mingling with a trace of tobacco smoke and the sharp smells of the hospital, and then he heard Omi say, "Hey, I expected you to be somewhere in the States by now."

Aya did not stir."How d'you find me?" he mumbled.

Omi sat down beside him."I only had to place a tracker on your account," he said, his tone almost kind, "It showed a withdrawal made by the hospital here."

Ah, yes, he had almost forgotten what Omi was capable of."Go away," Aya said listlessly."I'm done with you."

This time, Omi's thin hand settled on his shoulder."I'm afraid it might be rather more complex than that," the young man said softly."We need to talk, Ayan. Now."

xxx

NOTES:

/1/ Guten Morgen - good morning
/2/ Satoh - wisteria, a play on Ran's surname Fujimiya – wisteria shrine
/3/ Maseo - rare
/4/ Yasuo - peaceful one

Coming soon - next chapter: To Live Forever