Chapter Three: Silence



[KEN]

There's a distinct type of sound that comes from those who are trying to be quiet. A low murmur of hushed voices, the slow sound of footsteps, the intermittent crashes and suppressed shouts as people accidently drop things in their hasty attempts to do whatever it is they're doing in silence.

These noises, mixed with the sound of footsteps thudding up and down the back steps are what roused me from bed ungodly early this morning. Rolling over on my side, I hold a pillow over my ears to block out the dull sounds until it clicks.

Ran!

Since I'm up, my fear and my curiosity get the better of me; in my boxer shorts and t-shirt I rush into the living room, almost fainting at what I see.

Ran is on the sofa; alive. And by the looks of it, just barely.

Leaning over him are a strange man and woman. The man is in the process of stitching a large gash on Ran's thigh; the woman is picking small pieces of gravel out of a cut on his side with a long pair of tweezers. Doctors...from Kritiker? They are both tight-lipped and focussed on their work, neither having noticed my entrance to the room. Omi and Yohji are more observant, both looking from the sofa to myself with concern and undisguised fear.

My breath is caught in my throat, my body shaking, my legs barely able to support my own weight. I want to scream, to cry, to kill whoever did this. Mostly I want to run to Ran's side and shake his shoulders, making him awaken. Instead, all I do is stand there, gaping like an idiot as the doctors finish up their work.

When they go, an eerie sort of silence fills the flat, broken by a wrenching sob which breaks from my throat. He's just lying there, so still and so pale, his skin almost purple and his hair so limp. He's like a wax doll, or a...a corpse. Lifeless and cold-looking.

Through my tears I see Yohji coming toward me, arms outstretched. I collapse against his chest, and sob.



[RAN]

"...careful."

"My god, they sure tore him up..."

"...bastards...kill them..."

"You should be in bed, Ken-kun!"

"...tell...Aya-chan?"

"Are you crazy?"

"...wake up, Ran...Ran...come back to me..."



Snatches of conversation make their way through the fog of drug-induced sleep. I am only aware of the sounds, the rise and fall of the hushed voices. They are sad, concerned, and tinted with...fear? Why? What had happened?

There is warm darkness enveloping me, and I'm having trouble maintaining a straight thought. But something out there on the other side of the wall of blackness is keeping me grounded, letting those voices reach me . A warm hand over mine, a soft caress on the cheek, a tender whisper in my ear...."ai shiteru, Ran..."

***

As I open my eyes the first thing I see is Ken's head which rests on the pillow next to mine, and I can't really help the smile which takes over my face and the sight of him so peacefully sleeping in the dimness of my room. The sun leaks in between cracks in the blinds, casting a ray of light on his face, illuminating his subtle beauty. He's so darn cute, and every morning when I wake up next to him I silently give thanks. It's funny how things worked out for us, that in the middle of darkness and death a murderer like me would have a second chance, a chance to love and be loved.

As I shake off the last traces of sleep I am keenly aware that my head feels very strange, and for some reason my limbs are very heavy and numb. In fact, I feel kind of numb everywhere, and I'm not sure why I'm in my room sleeping and not Ken's, or why he is on top of the covers fully clothed in the middle of the afternoon - and why the hell is there and IV stuck in my arm? A chill descends over me as I lay still and wrack my brain trying to remember if anything had gone wrong on the mission last night. It was a simple job: recover the files, take out the standard mad scientist, blow up the lab to destroy the evidence. We were in, out, and home by midnight, right?

A sudden burst of pain shoots up my left side and a flash of light and colour overtakes my mind as images, sounds, and smells from the last six days come rushing back...the mission, the corner store... the dart...the filthy cold room and the pain and the men...Oh, gods...

I shake my head and try desperately to fight down the vomit which is rising in my throat, the pain which is creeping into every inch of my body reminding me that this is not a nightmare and that I am already awake. How the hell did it happen? How was I caught so unaware, taken so easily? And how is it that after I was used like a toy I managed to get back home?

Confusion mixes with fear as I look over at the still sleeping Ken. Only one thought now repeats itself: he saw me like that, he saw me after I had been beaten and used, he knows how weak I was, he knows...

I rip the IV from my arm and stumble out of bed, landing on the floor, throwing up on the smooth wooden boards.



[KEN]

I awake panting, and drenched with sweat, slightly shaking from the dream which has stalked me ever since Ran disappeared. I can never fully remember who or what the dream is about, but I know that the feeling of despair which follows me in my sleep is something I dread.

Of course, a stupid dream is nothing compared to the real nightmare which has come crashing down upon us. It had been three days of watching them first patch up Ran, and then put Ran to bed, and of sitting by his side and holding his hand and praying to the God I once knew that he would wake up.

I talked to Ran for most of it, telling him things I had never told him: stories about my childhood, about the parents and sister I could barely remember and the Mission in which I had grown up; about my hopes for a future with him away from all this pain and death; about the children I wanted to raise. I shooed out Yohji and Omi whenever they got too intrusive, and tactfully handled calls from Aya-chan. Okay, so maybe not to tactfully, but I did my best! I knew that Ran wouldn't want her to know anything about what had happened - hell, he wasn't even really comfortable with her knowing about us, let alone Weiss, or this. Finally, I crawled up on the bed next to him and permitted myself to go to sleep.

Now, as my breathing slows, I feel a stirring in the bed next to me, and for the first time in six days my eyes meet beautiful violet ones. Ran, awake! He looks as awful as ever, but he's awake and that's all that matters.

We look at each other for a few seconds, as if neither one of us knows what to say or do. Since he is just staring at me with a frighteningly empty gaze, I decide to go first. "Ran...you're awake! I thought...I mean, I..." My voice cracks on the words and I curse myself. Dammit, be strong! The last thing he needs is your blubbering! I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to begin again. "Ran, I'm so glad you're okay. I would have died if I'd lost you." I place my hand on his cheek and look deep into his eyes, trying to reach him through the pain and confusion I know he must be feeling. "I love you so much." A slight smile works its way across my face, wanting nothing more than to hear him say the same.

His beautiful eyes blink hard a couple of times and he wordlessly turns his head away from mine. Gods, did I do something wrong? I shift my position slightly, unsure of what to do. Shit, this is hard. Looking at his face I can see how gaunt he is, and I remember how uncomfortable it must be to get your food through a damn IV.

The damn IV which was disconnected from Ran's arm.

Sitting up, I notice that he's been up, or at least tried to get up. He was sick on the floor, and is probably embarrassed as hell right now, if he's even feeling anything through all those drugs we've been pumping into him.

"You're probably starving, so, um, after I clean up in here I'll fix you some eggs or something, ok?" He settles back down in the pillows further but doesn't respond, so I smile at him and head out to the kitchen wanting to cry. Dammit. I thought that the lowest point in my life was slicing my bugnuks through Kase, whom I once had cared about as a brother and then known as a lover.

I was wrong. It's seeing Ran laying on that bed, hurt and confused, bruised and broken.



[RAN]

There really is only so long that silence will work with people who love you. For Ken, it's been a week.

I haven't yet returned to work, but today I was feeling up to moving around the flat and taking care of myself. For the first time in the week since I'd woke up out of that drug-induced coma, I got up in the morning without prodding, I washed myself, and got dressed in a pair of real clothes and not the loose pyjamas I had been wearing.

Since-it--happened, Ken had been taking care of me, performing all those annoying personal duties that I couldn't or didn't feel like doing, even taking the time to patiently comb my hair. I know that he did these things out of love, or perhaps sympathy rather than mere necessity, but it was still humiliating to be taken care of as if I were a child or an invalid.

I'd probably spoken about six civil words to him through all this.

The longest conversation was the first day, after he cleaned up my mess and cooked up some endearingly horrible eggs and lay down on the bed next to me, looking exhausted. I knew that we had shared a bed for ages, but there was something--unsettling--about having him there, looking at me with eyes which had seen me so vulnerable, who knew how easily I could be hurt. It was like another voice was coming out of my body when I suddenly broke the silence between us.

"Leave."

"Nani? Ran, I don't want to go." He sat up on the bed, looking confused, hurt.

"I want to be alone...I want to sleep by myself."

He was shaking as he got up off the bed and quietly left my room. Since then, he has covered all my shifts at the Koneko, done my share of chores around the flat, cooked my meals, and took care of me without complaint. He has never tried to sleep in my room again.



***

Other than that brief interaction with Ken, the only other words I've said to anyone were to Manx, that same day.

I could hear her and Birman outside my door, arguing with Yohji and Ken. Yohji seemed to think that I needed my space, while Birman and Manx was adamant that I be fully...well, for lack of a better word, "debriefed." Ken sounded as if he was somewhere in the middle, wanting to catch whoever was responsible and wanting me not have to face a firing squad.

In the end, I think Ken won, as only Manx came in the room.

The conversation was brief.

"Where were you that night, Abyssinian?"

"Tanaka's Grocery. Cedar St. They were in the alley. Three of them, I think. They pulled me into my own car and drove me to some hellhole where they played their twisted fucking games and ..."

"And what?" She prodded, sounding both patient and insistent at once.

"And I don't remember. I was drugged, I kept blacking out. There was gunfire, and a bird...and then I was back here."

Her pen stopped scrawling across the page for a moment, her eyes shifting up to meet mine.

"A bird? I don't understand. What kind of bird?"

"A phoenix, rising from black flames. Those men, they wore the mark on their arms." I bring my fingers to rest on my upper right arm.

Silence. On the other side of the door, I could hear hushed voices of people who were obviously eavesdropping. Well, let them. They'd all be briefed in the next intelligence report, anyway.

"That's all I remember."

"Well, it should be enough for now. We'll get intel started on that alley, and see if we can get some kind of trace on where they might have taken you, but without more concrete details..." she shrugged, getting up from the bed where she had sat and headed for the door.

"Do try to get better, Abyssinian. Your team needs you."

***

Now that I'm capable of taking after myself, I wonder how long the silent treatment will work with Ken. I have never really known him to be a patient man. As it is, I was surprised that he's waited a week to confront me.

It came that night, after supper.

I'm sitting at the table trying to act normally and trying not to notice how everyone has been staring at me all day, trying as hard as I am to act as if they aren't acting that everything is okay. It seems by some unspoken agreement that as soon as we are finished eating, Omi and Yohji head for the door, leaving Ken and I alone at the table.

This time, it is his turn to break the silence.

"So, I heard that Aya-chan called today. She's still doing well in school." It wasn't a question, really, more of an ice-breaker, I guess. If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would have been hilarious how careful he was being, how he was looking at me as if I were a bomb that might go off.



He took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. "Ran, um, I know that this whole thing has been hard on you." I can feel myself tense, and try to relax--after all, I knew this was coming, didn't I? I knew that turning my head and keeping my silence would only work for so long, especially with Ken.

The problem is, I also know that I'm not prepared to do anything else.

I suppose that my stoic expression is what finally made Ken crack. He gets to his feet and glares down at me, his hands shaking.

"Christ, Ran, why are you pushing me away? I'm trying my best! Talk to me!" His arms hang limply against his sides, his voice and eyes both filled with desperation and pain. Again, I don't answer. What does he really expect me to say? Does he think I can tell him about what happened? About being beaten and used? Does he think if I relive that in front of him it will somehow magically fix things?

He seems to collect himself a bit as he meets my cold gaze. "Ran, you know that I love you, right? And you still love me? And that we can trust each other with anything?"

Hmm. Interesting, I hadn't really considered it like that. I mean, I know in my head that this is true, that we love each other, but I hadn't really been feeling too much of anything this past week. In all honesty, how can I love anyone, after that? After I feel so dead inside? And how can anyone love me, knowing how powerless and weak I am? I'm so weak that I can't protect Ken, I can't protect Aya-chan, I can't even protect myself!

Damn, I've got to say something. He's still standing there, peering down at me. I take a deep breath before speaking, hoping to placate him a bit.

"I've given my report to Manx, the necessary details are in there if you want to read them. My face looks good enough to go back to work. I'll cover my own shift tomorrow. Thanks for your help."

I push back my chair and slowly walk back to my room, leaving Ken in the kitchen, with that crestfallen look on his face. Well, this is my problem, and I can't help him if he wants to make it his. I just have to deal with it myself.

[KEN]

I'm not really a stranger to rape. When I was a teenager, a girl from the Mission had been attacked by some street punk who used to be her boyfriend. She came home that night crying and flung herself on my bed, a nervous wreck. We took her to the doctor who cleaned her up and made sure she wasn't pregnant, to the police, who questioned her about the asshole who had hurt her, and to the nuns, who urged her to pray.

It was me in whom she confided, telling me what had happened, how used and weak she felt. I remember being so scared, though, that I would say the wrong thing that I went to our priest and asked for advice. There were stages, he'd said. Keiko would go through them, and she would draw strength from God and move on to have a normal life with a husband and children. As long as I was her shoulder to cry on, I was fulfilling my role as a dutiful friend, which was all that could be expected of me.

Keiko wound up in a gutter in Sapporo within the year, drug overdose.

Who was to blame? Keiko, for not having the strength to move on? The boyfriend, for hurting her? The nuns, who prayed for her but couldn't understand her? Or the scared fifteen year old boy who was afraid of the dark and couldn't save her from herself?

I think when I saw Ran sitting at that kitchen table, I could see a bit of Keiko. There was the same self-loathing and doubt, the same nervous jumpiness and haunted eyes.

But whereas she made me her confidant and placed her trust in me, he's shown me the utter futility of confronting him. At every turn I keep drawing the same blanks.

Despite our communal efforts to draw him out, Ran has pretty much slipped back into his normal routine-if you consider "normal" how they were before Ran and I were together, before Ran started to crack that blank mask he wore in Tokyo when Aya-chan was still sleeping. He has returned to work at the mobile shop, dutifully calls Aya-chan, and basically is the same Aya we used to know, a million years ago when he was a brick of ice; before he found his smile, his laugh.

Now, the days keep marching on in silence, and he would have us believe that he has healed inside and out. But I can see the hurt, the pain in his eyes; the eyes the used to be open to me and have now shut me out. Does he really think I can't see? Does he think I don't know? I've seen it before, damnit, and I couldn't save her. And once again, I see the one I should be able to protect slipping away from me.

Perhaps the problem is that he doesn't know. Doesn't know the depths to which he has been wounded. He thinks that he can carry everything, that he is strong, that he can't break. That he already hasn't broken.



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