WOW, MINNA-SAN! I must say, your reviews have been so wonderful. When I
posted chapter 4 it was final exam time here in the world of us high school
students, and I was afraid and insecure and all too happy to pour out those
thoughts into my author's notes. Your reviews were so encouraging - so
many of them just put me in a good mood the whole day. Also, thanks out to
those who gave me tips on my trip to Japan, which was, of course, one of
those brilliant and unforgettable experiences that I could write about
forever about but won't because I know you're about to skip over so you can
go read what is coming up next...
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AFTER YOU
Chapter 5: High Five
By: nakigoe-chan
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Last time you called me late at night you were naked and chained to your shower curtain rod. I hope this isn't going to be disappointing.
- Ranger, Janet Evanovich's 'High Five'
Stephanie: That's the Porsche. It exploded and caught fire and then the garbage truck fell over on it. Ranger: I especially like the part about the garbage truck.
- Again, from Janet Evanovich's 'High Five'
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I remember brief flashes of what happened after that; foggy images that wove themselves into a disorienting collage as I fell in and out of unconsciousness. Voices rose and fell around me and I picked up bits and pieces.
[...huge fireball, I've never seen anything like that...]
[...gas leak? Or maybe a kitchen accident...]
[...can't believe anyone's alive, there were two people right outside the door, thrown across the hall...]
[...is that guy dead? He looks like it...]
[...lucky the whole building didn't go up in flames along with that apartment...]
[...are the EMTs here yet?...]
The words all sounded the same to me; I had no idea what was going on. I remembered Ranma screaming in pain. I remembered the explosion. I remembered the kiss.
My head was full of smoke; my limbs wouldn't move. And the only thought occupying my mind was the fact that I didn't know how badly Ranma had been hurt. He could have been only scratched; he could have been mutilated. He could have been dead. Not only that, Nabiki and Joey must have been in the apartment. I could have lost all three.
My mind raced away from that thought and from all others as it decided to return to oh-so-simple unconsciousness. Life was easier to deal with when one had no thoughts at all.
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When I awoke, I sensed a comforting and familiar presence above me. You just have a sixth sense for those things, the way a child awakens after a long car drive just as the parents pull up to the house.
Then again, maybe it was the dog breath.
My eyes slowly opened, then snapped shut again. Okay. Not going to try that again. Evil bright light particles. I counted to ten and tried again, this time managing to make it to the slit-eye expression. Evidently the presence above me decided I was awake enough, because I got a big lick in the face.
"Eee-yuuuuh! Jo-eeeeeey!" I'm sure there are those of you out there who love being licked in the face by your dog. I don't mind being licked, but not in the face. I can't get the image of where those dogs stick their faces when they run into *other* dogs out of my head. So sue me.
"You could show a little appreciation for the amount of effort and haggling it took to get that stupid mutt in here in the first place." It was Nabiki's voice and (as I saw when my eyes opened further) Nabiki's face, complete with Nabiki's smirk.
"Nabiki!" I wanted to cry with relief, but I was all cried out. I wanted to hug her, but my legs and arms still didn't appear to be working. So I gave up and doled out the classic line: "You're alive!"
"As much joy as that little fact brings me, why wouldn't I be?"
"I thought you were in the apartment."
"Joey and I were, as ironic as it may seem, checking out some real estate. And I found a house, too. Good timing, huh?"
"Nabs, has anyone ever told you that you're the best?"
"I believe that real estate is one of the few areas where I have yet to establish my superiority."
"Nabs, you're the best."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but if you call me Nabs again I'm going to have to kill you, and then your little stalker/homicidal maniac will be cranky at *me.*"
I took a big breath. Whoa, the room was pitching and rolling and making me nauseated. Another big breath. The room didn't stop, but it slowed considerably, or at least enough to ask the big question.
"Is Ranma okay?"
"Define 'okay.'"
Not the answer I was hoping for, apparently. There was that stupid nauseating feeling again.
Nabiki must have seen my terror, because she quickly explained. "What I mean is, he's not dead or missing any limbs or anything, but he's in considerably worse shape than you, since he was apparently standing between you and the door. His back is gonna have a few permanent scars from the burns, but otherwise he'll be mostly okay in a few days. That was what the doctor told me, anyway, and you know how much faster than normal people Ranma heals." She came and sat on the edge of the hospital bed and touched my hand. Her voice was soft. This was the non-joking, non-scheming, non- greedy Nabiki I had so little experience with but loved so much. This was Nabiki the sister. "He's going to be okay, Akane-chan," she told me, and I could see that she knew how much it meant.
I leaned back, trembling. Ranma had been seriously hurt - had risked death - for me. Yet again. It frightened me on a level the murderer, whoever it was, could never hope to match. Being the reason for Ranma's death would have utterly destroyed me.
"What happened?"
"Well technically no one knows yet, but they've ruled out everything but an accident or a bomb. You weren't boiling gasoline over a high-powered stove, were you? If not, my bet's with bomb, since you already have at least one wacko after you."
If Nabiki was willing to put money on it, then there was no doubt left in my mind.
I sat up. "Can I see Ranma?"
"You aren't allowed to get up. He's not allowed to get up. My guess would be, not yet."
"They've managed to keep him in bed?"
"When I left they were debating the values of sleeping gas versus those restraining strap things."
"Ahh." I took note of my surroundings. "Who brought all the flowers?" For my room, I discovered, was full of pink roses.
"I don't know. You've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours. I came in right when I heard, which was about a half-hour after you were checked in here, and then two hours later I left to deal with all this police stuff. When I came back in another three hours this place had been attacked by the Hallmark brigade."
"Is there a card?"
"Now that you mention it, yeah. And no, I didn't read it. Don't ask me why." She passed me the card and leaned back with a Starbucks frappachino to watch. I slit open the envelope with sore red fingers, unfolded the letter inside, and read it silently.
Akane:
When my father called me to tell me that you had been severely injured in an explosion, my heart stopped. I have never been so terrified in my life. The hospital staff would not let anyone other than family members into your room. My father let me sneak in when he came to check up on you about three hours after you got in, but the nurses kicked me out again. What on earth happened? I pray that you are all right. Hospital rooms are always so dreary; I hope you enjoy the flowers.
Anthony
Anthony was the man who I had been dating off and on for the past year, and whose father happened to be my doctor. Currently the dating status was on - I had been so wrapped up in the murder and Ranma that I'd completely forgotten about him. But he was someone I cared for - and, in all honesty, Anthony was the kind of man I'd always imagined I would fall in love with. I wasn't there yet, but it had potential. He was sweet and thoughtful and well-educated, which were all things Ranma's personality did not often embody.
In the end, my mind said, Anthony was marriage material and Ranma was not.
I shriveled from that thought, but I knew that it was pretty much true. Falling for Ranma had been an accident. Not a mistake, but not a smart thing to do, either. I hadn't been given a choice. Should I let myself fall into that trap again? Loving Ranma terrified me, because it had so much potential to leave me brokenhearted - again. I could see Anthony and I with a family; I could see us together in our old age. I could not see Ranma as old at all; he was all energy, all life, all exotic experience and experimentation. And I could not see Ranma as tying himself to anything or anyone. He was too restless, too chaotic.
For the first time since he had come back, I let myself admit that while I did still love Ranma, a relationship with him would probably not be in my best interests - or in his, if he wanted to stay who he was.
My heart was breaking all over again, and this time it was even more my fault. I was losing him, and this time I knew that if I wanted, I could keep him.
It just wouldn't work.
But that just wasn't fair.
"Akane?"
I looked up at the forgotten Nabiki. She was staring at me in quizzical concern.
"Akane, why are you crying?"
I wiped away the unnoticed tears. "It's nothing."
She didn't believe me, but she let it drop at that. "Who are the flowers from?"
"My boyfriend."
Nabiki had never been the face-fault type, but if she had she would have gone right through the floor. "Your WHAT?!"
"My boyfriend." My voice was very steady and detached, as if coming from far away. It certainly didn't sound to me as if it was coming from my mouth.
"YOU HAVE A *BOYFRIEND*!?!"
"Yes."
"But - but what - I mean, I thought - "
"You thought what? Me and Ranma?"
Nabiki was floundering (would wonders never cease?). "Well, yes..."
"Not bloody likely." I had no idea why I said that. It just popped out, and it sounded sharp and grating even to my disjointed ears.
Nabiki's eyes darted around through my gaze. I had never seen her look so sad, not even when I went to see her after Dad had told her that she was a disgrace to the family. "But I thought you *loved* him," Nabiki whispered.
"Maybe I did. Or *do,* or whatever. But I can't have a relationship or a future with him, and trying to have either will just make both of us miserable." I heard the door open as the doctor came in behind me. "I have someone now who I might actually have a future with, and I am not going to throw that away for someone who will just run off again - and leave me miserable again."
Nabiki was gaping at me. No, wait, that wasn't right - she was gaping *beyond* me, at the person standing in the doorway. I turned and found myself staring at -
Ranma. Of course.
That mask was really starting to irk me, but not at that particular moment. The mask was there now because it had something to hide. Love, pain, loss, whatever. It was there because something else was there, something else that he didn't want me to see.
I braced myself for a witty, scathing comment. I knew I deserved it. He'd certainly heard my last comment, and I waited with baited breath for a return meant to hurt me as much as I'd just hurt him.
But he just gave me a long stare, said, "Sorry for interrupting," walked out, and closed the door very softly with a barely audible click. I longed to slam that stupid door; the click only heightened my nerves.
A hurtful, sarcastic remark would have been easier to bear. I was braced for it; it would have made me cry and wail and feel ashamed, but while his actual response accomplished only the last, it doled out the shame in epic proportions. I lay back on the bed with my knees brought up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them for protection. My nose was clogged up and I sniffled. My eyes burned horribly but the tears refused to come and bring them relief.
Ranma was like an addiction, I decided - he brought me relief when I had him, parting with him brought about need and pain like never before, but in the end, if I could get through it all and get along without him, I'd be much healthier.
Nabiki was staring from me to the door and back again. She looked as if she expected the whole scene to rewind and play itself differently; her deep breaths betrayed her thoughts: 'okay, so we had a little fluke; we'll try it again and everything will be okay.'
Everything will be okay. Yeah, right. On top of everything, this was just too much.
Joey apparently had no opinion. He was eating one of the plastic surgical smocks.
The tears finally came, and as I leaned back I fell away once more into the darkness of my subconscious.
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When I awoke Anthony's face was smiling down at me. I had woken to another man's face the previous morning; why had that face brought me so much more of a sense of safety and contentment than this one did, even if it didn't matter - since I didn't have a choice?
"Good morning, sleepyhead."
I managed a weak smile. "Is it still morning?"
"Barely. I'm glad you're awake. I can tell my cardiac system to start up again." I laughed softly. It rang fake in my ears, but Anthony didn't seem to notice. "I was going to come sooner, but I couldn't get out of work." He worked for a program called 'America's Youth' that helped teens on the street. The program reached out to the runaways who of course shied away from the other programs that all encouraged them to go home. Anthony's program helped kids with no questions asked, and had apparently been a godsend to kids who had run away from homes where they were abused or neglected and who didn't want to risk having to go back. Usually the social workers who worked there could eventually convince the kids to go home, too, making it more effective. But the fact that they got the kids confidence and kept it had probably saved more kids than all the other pushy programs that tried harder to get the kids home but wound up alienating them. The America's Youth program not only got most of the kids home, but also managed to get them and their families whatever help or counseling was needed. Anthony had started out as a volunteer, risen among the ranks, and eventually wound up taking over the program with the help of his father, who was a very influential community figure not to mention a distinguished and successful doctor.
"That's alright. I was asleep anyway, so I wouldn't have known the difference."
Anthony's face was concerned and rather rueful. He brushed some sandy- brown hair out of his green eyes. He really was handsome, I thought, even if he wasn't on Ranma's level. *No one* was on Ranma's level. "I knew the difference. I've never been so stressed in my life."
"Well, it's nice to know there's someone out there who's concerned about me." I said with a smile. It wasn't a big smile, but it was my first sincere one.
"From what I hear, you've got a guardian angel. Were you really saved by some random guy who put himself between you and the explosion?"
I didn't expect the sharp flash of annoyed anger that came with his words, but it was there all the same. "He wasn't some *random guy,*" I said, my voice tinged with warning. "His name is Ranma Saotome, and he's an old friend who Nabiki called the day before yesterday because of everything that's been happening."
Anthony's voice was conciliatory, and it cooled my temper. "I'll have to stop by his room and say thank you."
Anthony and Ranma, meeting each other? Whoa boy. Hell on earth, ladies and gentlemen. Apocalypse *NOW.*
"I don't know...that may not be such a fantastic idea."
"Why not?"
Uh-oh. Excuse time. And since I'd never told Anthony about Ranma - and, more importantly, our history - the truth (that they would tear each other to pieces) was out of the question.
"He's very busy, and kind of antisocial...he doesn't do thanks well. Or conversation, for that matter."
"What she means," came Ranma's calm voice from the doorway, "is that she doesn't want you to feed my ego, which she believes is more than big enough already."
Anthony turned, caught sight of Ranma, and took a step backward. That was the typical response from men when confronted with Ranma. The typical woman response, of course, was to check to make sure that she still had all her clothes on, and upon finding that they were, have a rush of both relief and regret.
"So," Anthony said, "you must be the famous savior."
Ranma gave a barely perceptible nod.
Anthony rocked back and forth on his heels, clearly standing his ground but at a loss of what to say. "I would like to express my gratitude," he ventured, "for rescuing someone very dear to me."
Ranma gazed stonily at him. I could see Anthony mentally shiver under the icy stare fixed on him. And then I felt it, at the same moment I saw it in his eyes...the Soul of Ice technique had sent the temperature down several degrees, and of course Anthony would have no idea why.
And then Ranma's gaze slid past Anthony and onto me.
I could have dealt with rage. I could have taken jealousy, resentment, or cool, simmering anger. I could have taken any wrath. He could have ranted at me, raved at me, and I would have shriveled with pain, but I could have taken it. It would have broken my heart, but I could have taken it. I could even have survived if I had seen hatred in those eyes; if they had held unforgiving revulsion I still would have lived with it.
But this - no, not this. I died at what I saw in those eyes. His gaze clawed me to ragged pieces and left nothing but tattered remnants of what had once been my heart.
His eyes had gone slate-grey; he stared at me with only blank, vacant, 'do- I-know-you?' disinterest.
All of a sudden I was just another job; just another person to protect. I was just another obligation; just another nuisance.
I saw, in those eyes, that I was no longer a part of the soul that lay behind them.
The feeling inside me was too sharp for tears. Tears would do it no justice.
So I simply turned my face away.
Anthony noticed none of this. "Can I buy you a beer or something?" He asked Ranma.
"I don't drink," Ranma said.
"Oh," said Anthony. "How about coffee?"
"No thanks."
Good God, they were both so stupid. Why did they both care about me? It simply branded them both as fools.
At which point Nabiki rushed in. She froze and took in the room's occupants. She looked first at Ranma, then at Anthony, then back and forth a few more times, like she was watching the ball at a tennis match. Ranma, Anthony, back and forth and back and forth and back, to rest her gaze on Ranma.
"So," she said cheerfully, perky and false. "What's up?"
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"I don't like him."
"You've just *met* him. How could you have judged him already?"
"You think I don't know people?"
"You don't know *him!*"
Nabiki sighed with evident intense aggravation. "I don't *need* to know him."
"What?"
"Look, most of the time I go with my head. But occasionally I go with my gut. It rarely happens, but I get a vibe, you know? There are things you don't need to be told. And right now my gut says you should go for Ranma, not Anthony."
"Why do *you* give a shit?" I said in a cranky voice. "Since when have you been looking out for me?"
"The truth is, in this situation it isn't all you."
"Huh?"
Nabiki grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me around to face her. "Wake up, little sister! Your relationships are about more than just *you.* They're about the other person, too! I'm looking out for both of you on this one, because I owe it to Ranma."
Wait. Did Nabiki just say the word 'owe' in context with herself?
"You *owe* him? Since when do you owe anyone, especially Ranma? I would have thought *he* owed *you.*"
"This isn't about money," Nabiki said.
"Then what is it about?"
"Humanity."
I snorted.
"You think that's funny?" She asked. "Alright. So name one friend I've had in the past ten years."
I froze. I thought...
And I came up blank.
"You've had friends. I mean, I haven't seen you that often in so long, so why would I know who your friends are?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay. So name one friend I had in high school."
She had me cornered and she knew it. "You..."
"...had none. I didn't deserve any, to be quite honest, because everyone who trusted me found themselves exploited. And none of them were about to forgive me for it. I didn't deserve that forgiveness, and they knew it. *I* knew it. And so they weren't about to give that forgiveness. Except Ranma."
"Ranma?" I managed weakly.
"Yes. Ranma. You know, the Ranma who I hurt and humiliated and exploited every chance I got. The Ranma who knew what it was like to be totally alone. The Ranma who I made my victim more than anyone else. The Ranma who, after everything I'd done to make him miserable, was the only one willing to give me a second chance. That Ranma."
I could only gape at her, but she continued without verbal prompting.
"After he left, I received an email from him - god, I didn't even know the boy knew what a computer *was* - asking how much he owed me. I sent a scathing reply saying screw the money, why did he leave us, and most especially, you. He replied with a list of reasons. We had consistent computer debates about it, until our correspondence was no longer about his departure whatsoever. We became friends, saw each other in person again, and suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. We've stayed friends since - probably best friends. He's certainly the best friend *I* ever had, even after he moved here and we didn't see all that much of each other anymore."
I couldn't believe it! Eight years, and she'd never bothered to tell me any of this! "So why don't *you* go marry him?" I said through gritted teeth.
"For the purest and simplest of reasons," she replied. "I figured out what all of his fiancées of the past couldn't. I want him to be happy. His happiness depends on marrying someone he's in love with. And he, my dear little sister, is still madly in love with you. And at the end of the day, I'm not *in love* with him. I love him, but not that way."
Man, when things got crazy and confusing, EVERYTHING just went down the toilet. I mean, because the two people I trusted most had reappeared in my life I had more emotional problems then the rest of my life combined! And the little voice in the back of my head, which I was beginning to suspect might actually be my brain, was whispering that everything was likely to get worse before it got better.
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Nabiki had booked a hotel room while we waited for the paperwork to come through on her new house. Anthony had offered to let us stay at his house, but Nabiki had jumped in and declined before I'd had a chance to open my mouth. Secretly I was relieved; I didn't want to hurt Anthony's feelings but I didn't want to stay at his house, either. It would have felt too intimate, too invasive, too soon.
My apartment was in shambles. When the hospital realized that they weren't going to be able to keep us there any longer, Anthony had taken Nabiki, Ranma, Joey and I back to the apartment.
It was a disaster, of course. It would have to be entirely rebuilt. The walls were either charred and misshapen or gone altogether. The neighbors' walls were damaged and there was a hole in the floor.
On top of all my emotional problems, this was just too much. I sank to the ground. My home was gone. It wasn't as special as the place back in Nerima, but it was a symbol of my independence and all the progress I'd made. Just when I thought I'd started to get back on my feet on the money front things would get worse. I sank to the floor with a whimper. Anthony came and put his arms around me while Ranma and Nabiki watched from several feet away. Ranma's blue gaze was awash with pity, but he didn't come closer.
Get used to it, I told the miserable feeling inside my chest that wanted to be in Ranma's arms instead of Anthony's. Because this is the way it has to be.
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The hotel was full; we could get no more rooms. We only had the one that Nabiki had already booked. And so Ranma had decided to go home for the night.
He had assured us that the hotel security was fine and that he would have someone watching us all night to make sure. Nabiki and I protested loudly, but he insisted that he really did have to go home; however, we managed to coerce him into coming over to check out the room and then into staying around for a drink.
Nabiki and I amused ourselves by acting terrified and insisting that he check under the bed, behind the shower curtain, etc. He knew we were faking, we knew that he knew, and he knew that we knew that he knew, but nonetheless it lightened the mood. And the mood really did need some lightening.
You can't live in denial forever, especially when if you do you stand a good chance of not living that long. But I had had far too much reality for my taste in the past few days, and reality was sure as hell starting to wear thin. So after a few minutes of talking, I gave a weary smile and told them I was going to go take a shower and then head for bed. Nabiki told me I really needed one. Ranma said nothing, and I didn't look at him.
The bathroom was neat and elegant. My bathroom at home had always been a wreak - bottles all over the place, lotion and shampoo spills, ugly colored tiles. Somehow I felt as if this bathroom was mocking me - what had I really lost? Nothing that was worth more than emotional value. It just made everything worse. I unwrapped a fresh bar of soap and stared at it, feeling like a traitor to the smoldering ruins I had left behind. I snorted; I was personifying my bland, two room apartment. And then I cried.
"Akane?" Nabiki's voice came through the door. "Are you okay? The water isn't running, and that's usually necessary when you're taking a shower."
I managed to force out a mumbled 'fine' and flushed the toilet so they'd think I'd had to go to the bathroom.
I turned on the water and stared at it for a full minute before getting in. Then I realized that I still had my clothes on and burst out laughing. It wasn't until I'd gotten them off that I realized I was crying again. This was hell.
I scrubbed and scrubbed, hoping that whatever made me so miserable could be washed down the drain. The bubbles went down the drain. The water went down the drain. The misery was the exception that proved the rule. It did not go down the drain.
Damn.
I didn't step out of the shower until long after the water would have started to turn cold, had we been in a house with a limit on supply. I hoped that Nabiki didn't need a shower tonight.
I wrapped myself in a towel and sat down on the floor, staring at the tiles and listening to the dull whir of the fan. I thought about nothing at all, contenting myself with simple existence. Someone was trying to kill me in a variety of dramatic ways. They hadn't given up - they weren't taking any chances on me. Why? I didn't know anything, and even if I did the police wouldn't believe me - I was already a suspect.
I heard Ranma's cell phone chirp through the door and I heard him answer it. The words were too muffled to hear.
My stomach grumbled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten anything at all in more than twenty-four hours. I was starving. And hey, food is a comfort. I needed comfort.
I wrapped the towel tighter around myself and stepped out of the bathroom. Ranma and Naiki were still hidden from my view by a wall, but I could hear their conversation.
"That was the phone people," Ranma said.
"Which would explain why they didn't email you."
"Ha, ha. They called to say that they have conformation."
"Conformation?"
"The phone company records all the telephone calls that were made. Not what was said, you know, but who calls who."
"I know that, Brain Trust. Why do we care?"
"I don't know what significance there is, but the phone call was indeed made. At 2:02 a.m. the day before yesterday, Hiroshi made his last phone call to Akane's apartment."
"That's great!"
"Not necessarily."
"Why? It proves he called her, like she said!"
"It also proves that she probably knew where he was, and they haven't got that for anyone else."
"Someone's trying to kill her!"
"It could be unrelated. The bullets that were shot into Hiroshi's apartment match those of the bullets and the gun that killed him. Hiroshi was targeted with a thirty-eight. Whoever is after Akane packs a 9mm."
"And bombs."
"Some kind of explosives, anyway."
"What really happened?"
"We went up to her apartment. We were talking about one of her coworkers."
"And then?"
"I must have hit my head. Retrograde amnesia, or something. Because she asked me why I hadn't gone with that Amber woman..."
"And...?"
"And after that, I don't remember a thing." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- END OF PART FIVE
PLEASE review or mail me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com! I want to know what you think!
In Chapter Six: Hot Six: More clues turn up, but may just make things more confusing. Akane and Ranma have a disagreement, Anthony and Ranma have a disagreement, and Gos gets himself in dangerous trouble. Oh, and people seem to think that this might be leading up to something lemony. Now, I won't say that there is no IMPLIED, ahem, action (don't count your chickens on who is with who!) but I cannot and will not write an After You lemon - I'd be too embarrassed. Heehee.
I've gotten the general impression, somehow, that my cliffhangers are thought of by my readers as a bit of a bad thing. Now, I have dealt with my share of authors with a fetish for cliffhangers, and it drives me bonkers, too. And since I am a very kind, understanding person, my reaction, of course, is hahahahahahaha. Because I have discovered exactly WHY they put cliffhangers in. It's FUN!
But you can't blame me for this one. See, when one of my prereaders, Chris, read chapter four, he told me, "You know, since victims of traumatizing accidents such as this one often lose memory of time right before said accident, you would be entirely justified if one or both of them forgot this whole thing ever happened."
I said, "Heh, heh, heh."
Of course, Chris ALSO innocently suggested a possible crime and criminal(s) to which I had to reply with the standard "I am going to hunt you down and kill you," because Chris (damn you, Chris, ^_~) had, of course, gotten it exactly right. So this chapter goes out to the guy too smart for his own good. ^_^ Of course, he's read more of the story than you all.
And Chris isn't the only brilliant prereader I'm lucky enough to have catching my falls: there's also Diana, Natalia, Greg, and Alissa, although she seems to be MIA (Alissa, if you read this, send me an email!) and they are fantastic. Thanks, guys! And then of course there are those in the AY brigade who are trying to kill me: Whitney, Yueling, Carlen, Mariel, and Hilda. They're mad about the ending of chapter six, which I have of course already written.
I decided to post this today because it is exactly one month after Janet Evanovich's 'Hard Eight' came out and exactly eighteen years after I was born. I'm a legal adult. Oh, good God, watch me panic. I'm not an adult. sigh
People seem to like this fic enough to host it on their sites! This story (so far) resides at the brilliant websites of...
D-Chan: www.geocities.com/ayongedarling Karen Lee: www.karsquare.150m.com/ranma/ranmaindex.htm
Yay! Thanks, minna-san! Anyone who wants to host AY is pretty much welcome to, but I'd appreciate it if you emailed me and asked anyway.
I hope you enjoyed chapter five enough to keep your eyes peeled for chapter six. Ja ne for now!
~ nakigoe-chan
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AFTER YOU
Chapter 5: High Five
By: nakigoe-chan
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Last time you called me late at night you were naked and chained to your shower curtain rod. I hope this isn't going to be disappointing.
- Ranger, Janet Evanovich's 'High Five'
Stephanie: That's the Porsche. It exploded and caught fire and then the garbage truck fell over on it. Ranger: I especially like the part about the garbage truck.
- Again, from Janet Evanovich's 'High Five'
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I remember brief flashes of what happened after that; foggy images that wove themselves into a disorienting collage as I fell in and out of unconsciousness. Voices rose and fell around me and I picked up bits and pieces.
[...huge fireball, I've never seen anything like that...]
[...gas leak? Or maybe a kitchen accident...]
[...can't believe anyone's alive, there were two people right outside the door, thrown across the hall...]
[...is that guy dead? He looks like it...]
[...lucky the whole building didn't go up in flames along with that apartment...]
[...are the EMTs here yet?...]
The words all sounded the same to me; I had no idea what was going on. I remembered Ranma screaming in pain. I remembered the explosion. I remembered the kiss.
My head was full of smoke; my limbs wouldn't move. And the only thought occupying my mind was the fact that I didn't know how badly Ranma had been hurt. He could have been only scratched; he could have been mutilated. He could have been dead. Not only that, Nabiki and Joey must have been in the apartment. I could have lost all three.
My mind raced away from that thought and from all others as it decided to return to oh-so-simple unconsciousness. Life was easier to deal with when one had no thoughts at all.
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When I awoke, I sensed a comforting and familiar presence above me. You just have a sixth sense for those things, the way a child awakens after a long car drive just as the parents pull up to the house.
Then again, maybe it was the dog breath.
My eyes slowly opened, then snapped shut again. Okay. Not going to try that again. Evil bright light particles. I counted to ten and tried again, this time managing to make it to the slit-eye expression. Evidently the presence above me decided I was awake enough, because I got a big lick in the face.
"Eee-yuuuuh! Jo-eeeeeey!" I'm sure there are those of you out there who love being licked in the face by your dog. I don't mind being licked, but not in the face. I can't get the image of where those dogs stick their faces when they run into *other* dogs out of my head. So sue me.
"You could show a little appreciation for the amount of effort and haggling it took to get that stupid mutt in here in the first place." It was Nabiki's voice and (as I saw when my eyes opened further) Nabiki's face, complete with Nabiki's smirk.
"Nabiki!" I wanted to cry with relief, but I was all cried out. I wanted to hug her, but my legs and arms still didn't appear to be working. So I gave up and doled out the classic line: "You're alive!"
"As much joy as that little fact brings me, why wouldn't I be?"
"I thought you were in the apartment."
"Joey and I were, as ironic as it may seem, checking out some real estate. And I found a house, too. Good timing, huh?"
"Nabs, has anyone ever told you that you're the best?"
"I believe that real estate is one of the few areas where I have yet to establish my superiority."
"Nabs, you're the best."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but if you call me Nabs again I'm going to have to kill you, and then your little stalker/homicidal maniac will be cranky at *me.*"
I took a big breath. Whoa, the room was pitching and rolling and making me nauseated. Another big breath. The room didn't stop, but it slowed considerably, or at least enough to ask the big question.
"Is Ranma okay?"
"Define 'okay.'"
Not the answer I was hoping for, apparently. There was that stupid nauseating feeling again.
Nabiki must have seen my terror, because she quickly explained. "What I mean is, he's not dead or missing any limbs or anything, but he's in considerably worse shape than you, since he was apparently standing between you and the door. His back is gonna have a few permanent scars from the burns, but otherwise he'll be mostly okay in a few days. That was what the doctor told me, anyway, and you know how much faster than normal people Ranma heals." She came and sat on the edge of the hospital bed and touched my hand. Her voice was soft. This was the non-joking, non-scheming, non- greedy Nabiki I had so little experience with but loved so much. This was Nabiki the sister. "He's going to be okay, Akane-chan," she told me, and I could see that she knew how much it meant.
I leaned back, trembling. Ranma had been seriously hurt - had risked death - for me. Yet again. It frightened me on a level the murderer, whoever it was, could never hope to match. Being the reason for Ranma's death would have utterly destroyed me.
"What happened?"
"Well technically no one knows yet, but they've ruled out everything but an accident or a bomb. You weren't boiling gasoline over a high-powered stove, were you? If not, my bet's with bomb, since you already have at least one wacko after you."
If Nabiki was willing to put money on it, then there was no doubt left in my mind.
I sat up. "Can I see Ranma?"
"You aren't allowed to get up. He's not allowed to get up. My guess would be, not yet."
"They've managed to keep him in bed?"
"When I left they were debating the values of sleeping gas versus those restraining strap things."
"Ahh." I took note of my surroundings. "Who brought all the flowers?" For my room, I discovered, was full of pink roses.
"I don't know. You've been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours. I came in right when I heard, which was about a half-hour after you were checked in here, and then two hours later I left to deal with all this police stuff. When I came back in another three hours this place had been attacked by the Hallmark brigade."
"Is there a card?"
"Now that you mention it, yeah. And no, I didn't read it. Don't ask me why." She passed me the card and leaned back with a Starbucks frappachino to watch. I slit open the envelope with sore red fingers, unfolded the letter inside, and read it silently.
Akane:
When my father called me to tell me that you had been severely injured in an explosion, my heart stopped. I have never been so terrified in my life. The hospital staff would not let anyone other than family members into your room. My father let me sneak in when he came to check up on you about three hours after you got in, but the nurses kicked me out again. What on earth happened? I pray that you are all right. Hospital rooms are always so dreary; I hope you enjoy the flowers.
Anthony
Anthony was the man who I had been dating off and on for the past year, and whose father happened to be my doctor. Currently the dating status was on - I had been so wrapped up in the murder and Ranma that I'd completely forgotten about him. But he was someone I cared for - and, in all honesty, Anthony was the kind of man I'd always imagined I would fall in love with. I wasn't there yet, but it had potential. He was sweet and thoughtful and well-educated, which were all things Ranma's personality did not often embody.
In the end, my mind said, Anthony was marriage material and Ranma was not.
I shriveled from that thought, but I knew that it was pretty much true. Falling for Ranma had been an accident. Not a mistake, but not a smart thing to do, either. I hadn't been given a choice. Should I let myself fall into that trap again? Loving Ranma terrified me, because it had so much potential to leave me brokenhearted - again. I could see Anthony and I with a family; I could see us together in our old age. I could not see Ranma as old at all; he was all energy, all life, all exotic experience and experimentation. And I could not see Ranma as tying himself to anything or anyone. He was too restless, too chaotic.
For the first time since he had come back, I let myself admit that while I did still love Ranma, a relationship with him would probably not be in my best interests - or in his, if he wanted to stay who he was.
My heart was breaking all over again, and this time it was even more my fault. I was losing him, and this time I knew that if I wanted, I could keep him.
It just wouldn't work.
But that just wasn't fair.
"Akane?"
I looked up at the forgotten Nabiki. She was staring at me in quizzical concern.
"Akane, why are you crying?"
I wiped away the unnoticed tears. "It's nothing."
She didn't believe me, but she let it drop at that. "Who are the flowers from?"
"My boyfriend."
Nabiki had never been the face-fault type, but if she had she would have gone right through the floor. "Your WHAT?!"
"My boyfriend." My voice was very steady and detached, as if coming from far away. It certainly didn't sound to me as if it was coming from my mouth.
"YOU HAVE A *BOYFRIEND*!?!"
"Yes."
"But - but what - I mean, I thought - "
"You thought what? Me and Ranma?"
Nabiki was floundering (would wonders never cease?). "Well, yes..."
"Not bloody likely." I had no idea why I said that. It just popped out, and it sounded sharp and grating even to my disjointed ears.
Nabiki's eyes darted around through my gaze. I had never seen her look so sad, not even when I went to see her after Dad had told her that she was a disgrace to the family. "But I thought you *loved* him," Nabiki whispered.
"Maybe I did. Or *do,* or whatever. But I can't have a relationship or a future with him, and trying to have either will just make both of us miserable." I heard the door open as the doctor came in behind me. "I have someone now who I might actually have a future with, and I am not going to throw that away for someone who will just run off again - and leave me miserable again."
Nabiki was gaping at me. No, wait, that wasn't right - she was gaping *beyond* me, at the person standing in the doorway. I turned and found myself staring at -
Ranma. Of course.
That mask was really starting to irk me, but not at that particular moment. The mask was there now because it had something to hide. Love, pain, loss, whatever. It was there because something else was there, something else that he didn't want me to see.
I braced myself for a witty, scathing comment. I knew I deserved it. He'd certainly heard my last comment, and I waited with baited breath for a return meant to hurt me as much as I'd just hurt him.
But he just gave me a long stare, said, "Sorry for interrupting," walked out, and closed the door very softly with a barely audible click. I longed to slam that stupid door; the click only heightened my nerves.
A hurtful, sarcastic remark would have been easier to bear. I was braced for it; it would have made me cry and wail and feel ashamed, but while his actual response accomplished only the last, it doled out the shame in epic proportions. I lay back on the bed with my knees brought up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them for protection. My nose was clogged up and I sniffled. My eyes burned horribly but the tears refused to come and bring them relief.
Ranma was like an addiction, I decided - he brought me relief when I had him, parting with him brought about need and pain like never before, but in the end, if I could get through it all and get along without him, I'd be much healthier.
Nabiki was staring from me to the door and back again. She looked as if she expected the whole scene to rewind and play itself differently; her deep breaths betrayed her thoughts: 'okay, so we had a little fluke; we'll try it again and everything will be okay.'
Everything will be okay. Yeah, right. On top of everything, this was just too much.
Joey apparently had no opinion. He was eating one of the plastic surgical smocks.
The tears finally came, and as I leaned back I fell away once more into the darkness of my subconscious.
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When I awoke Anthony's face was smiling down at me. I had woken to another man's face the previous morning; why had that face brought me so much more of a sense of safety and contentment than this one did, even if it didn't matter - since I didn't have a choice?
"Good morning, sleepyhead."
I managed a weak smile. "Is it still morning?"
"Barely. I'm glad you're awake. I can tell my cardiac system to start up again." I laughed softly. It rang fake in my ears, but Anthony didn't seem to notice. "I was going to come sooner, but I couldn't get out of work." He worked for a program called 'America's Youth' that helped teens on the street. The program reached out to the runaways who of course shied away from the other programs that all encouraged them to go home. Anthony's program helped kids with no questions asked, and had apparently been a godsend to kids who had run away from homes where they were abused or neglected and who didn't want to risk having to go back. Usually the social workers who worked there could eventually convince the kids to go home, too, making it more effective. But the fact that they got the kids confidence and kept it had probably saved more kids than all the other pushy programs that tried harder to get the kids home but wound up alienating them. The America's Youth program not only got most of the kids home, but also managed to get them and their families whatever help or counseling was needed. Anthony had started out as a volunteer, risen among the ranks, and eventually wound up taking over the program with the help of his father, who was a very influential community figure not to mention a distinguished and successful doctor.
"That's alright. I was asleep anyway, so I wouldn't have known the difference."
Anthony's face was concerned and rather rueful. He brushed some sandy- brown hair out of his green eyes. He really was handsome, I thought, even if he wasn't on Ranma's level. *No one* was on Ranma's level. "I knew the difference. I've never been so stressed in my life."
"Well, it's nice to know there's someone out there who's concerned about me." I said with a smile. It wasn't a big smile, but it was my first sincere one.
"From what I hear, you've got a guardian angel. Were you really saved by some random guy who put himself between you and the explosion?"
I didn't expect the sharp flash of annoyed anger that came with his words, but it was there all the same. "He wasn't some *random guy,*" I said, my voice tinged with warning. "His name is Ranma Saotome, and he's an old friend who Nabiki called the day before yesterday because of everything that's been happening."
Anthony's voice was conciliatory, and it cooled my temper. "I'll have to stop by his room and say thank you."
Anthony and Ranma, meeting each other? Whoa boy. Hell on earth, ladies and gentlemen. Apocalypse *NOW.*
"I don't know...that may not be such a fantastic idea."
"Why not?"
Uh-oh. Excuse time. And since I'd never told Anthony about Ranma - and, more importantly, our history - the truth (that they would tear each other to pieces) was out of the question.
"He's very busy, and kind of antisocial...he doesn't do thanks well. Or conversation, for that matter."
"What she means," came Ranma's calm voice from the doorway, "is that she doesn't want you to feed my ego, which she believes is more than big enough already."
Anthony turned, caught sight of Ranma, and took a step backward. That was the typical response from men when confronted with Ranma. The typical woman response, of course, was to check to make sure that she still had all her clothes on, and upon finding that they were, have a rush of both relief and regret.
"So," Anthony said, "you must be the famous savior."
Ranma gave a barely perceptible nod.
Anthony rocked back and forth on his heels, clearly standing his ground but at a loss of what to say. "I would like to express my gratitude," he ventured, "for rescuing someone very dear to me."
Ranma gazed stonily at him. I could see Anthony mentally shiver under the icy stare fixed on him. And then I felt it, at the same moment I saw it in his eyes...the Soul of Ice technique had sent the temperature down several degrees, and of course Anthony would have no idea why.
And then Ranma's gaze slid past Anthony and onto me.
I could have dealt with rage. I could have taken jealousy, resentment, or cool, simmering anger. I could have taken any wrath. He could have ranted at me, raved at me, and I would have shriveled with pain, but I could have taken it. It would have broken my heart, but I could have taken it. I could even have survived if I had seen hatred in those eyes; if they had held unforgiving revulsion I still would have lived with it.
But this - no, not this. I died at what I saw in those eyes. His gaze clawed me to ragged pieces and left nothing but tattered remnants of what had once been my heart.
His eyes had gone slate-grey; he stared at me with only blank, vacant, 'do- I-know-you?' disinterest.
All of a sudden I was just another job; just another person to protect. I was just another obligation; just another nuisance.
I saw, in those eyes, that I was no longer a part of the soul that lay behind them.
The feeling inside me was too sharp for tears. Tears would do it no justice.
So I simply turned my face away.
Anthony noticed none of this. "Can I buy you a beer or something?" He asked Ranma.
"I don't drink," Ranma said.
"Oh," said Anthony. "How about coffee?"
"No thanks."
Good God, they were both so stupid. Why did they both care about me? It simply branded them both as fools.
At which point Nabiki rushed in. She froze and took in the room's occupants. She looked first at Ranma, then at Anthony, then back and forth a few more times, like she was watching the ball at a tennis match. Ranma, Anthony, back and forth and back and forth and back, to rest her gaze on Ranma.
"So," she said cheerfully, perky and false. "What's up?"
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"I don't like him."
"You've just *met* him. How could you have judged him already?"
"You think I don't know people?"
"You don't know *him!*"
Nabiki sighed with evident intense aggravation. "I don't *need* to know him."
"What?"
"Look, most of the time I go with my head. But occasionally I go with my gut. It rarely happens, but I get a vibe, you know? There are things you don't need to be told. And right now my gut says you should go for Ranma, not Anthony."
"Why do *you* give a shit?" I said in a cranky voice. "Since when have you been looking out for me?"
"The truth is, in this situation it isn't all you."
"Huh?"
Nabiki grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me around to face her. "Wake up, little sister! Your relationships are about more than just *you.* They're about the other person, too! I'm looking out for both of you on this one, because I owe it to Ranma."
Wait. Did Nabiki just say the word 'owe' in context with herself?
"You *owe* him? Since when do you owe anyone, especially Ranma? I would have thought *he* owed *you.*"
"This isn't about money," Nabiki said.
"Then what is it about?"
"Humanity."
I snorted.
"You think that's funny?" She asked. "Alright. So name one friend I've had in the past ten years."
I froze. I thought...
And I came up blank.
"You've had friends. I mean, I haven't seen you that often in so long, so why would I know who your friends are?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay. So name one friend I had in high school."
She had me cornered and she knew it. "You..."
"...had none. I didn't deserve any, to be quite honest, because everyone who trusted me found themselves exploited. And none of them were about to forgive me for it. I didn't deserve that forgiveness, and they knew it. *I* knew it. And so they weren't about to give that forgiveness. Except Ranma."
"Ranma?" I managed weakly.
"Yes. Ranma. You know, the Ranma who I hurt and humiliated and exploited every chance I got. The Ranma who knew what it was like to be totally alone. The Ranma who I made my victim more than anyone else. The Ranma who, after everything I'd done to make him miserable, was the only one willing to give me a second chance. That Ranma."
I could only gape at her, but she continued without verbal prompting.
"After he left, I received an email from him - god, I didn't even know the boy knew what a computer *was* - asking how much he owed me. I sent a scathing reply saying screw the money, why did he leave us, and most especially, you. He replied with a list of reasons. We had consistent computer debates about it, until our correspondence was no longer about his departure whatsoever. We became friends, saw each other in person again, and suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. We've stayed friends since - probably best friends. He's certainly the best friend *I* ever had, even after he moved here and we didn't see all that much of each other anymore."
I couldn't believe it! Eight years, and she'd never bothered to tell me any of this! "So why don't *you* go marry him?" I said through gritted teeth.
"For the purest and simplest of reasons," she replied. "I figured out what all of his fiancées of the past couldn't. I want him to be happy. His happiness depends on marrying someone he's in love with. And he, my dear little sister, is still madly in love with you. And at the end of the day, I'm not *in love* with him. I love him, but not that way."
Man, when things got crazy and confusing, EVERYTHING just went down the toilet. I mean, because the two people I trusted most had reappeared in my life I had more emotional problems then the rest of my life combined! And the little voice in the back of my head, which I was beginning to suspect might actually be my brain, was whispering that everything was likely to get worse before it got better.
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Nabiki had booked a hotel room while we waited for the paperwork to come through on her new house. Anthony had offered to let us stay at his house, but Nabiki had jumped in and declined before I'd had a chance to open my mouth. Secretly I was relieved; I didn't want to hurt Anthony's feelings but I didn't want to stay at his house, either. It would have felt too intimate, too invasive, too soon.
My apartment was in shambles. When the hospital realized that they weren't going to be able to keep us there any longer, Anthony had taken Nabiki, Ranma, Joey and I back to the apartment.
It was a disaster, of course. It would have to be entirely rebuilt. The walls were either charred and misshapen or gone altogether. The neighbors' walls were damaged and there was a hole in the floor.
On top of all my emotional problems, this was just too much. I sank to the ground. My home was gone. It wasn't as special as the place back in Nerima, but it was a symbol of my independence and all the progress I'd made. Just when I thought I'd started to get back on my feet on the money front things would get worse. I sank to the floor with a whimper. Anthony came and put his arms around me while Ranma and Nabiki watched from several feet away. Ranma's blue gaze was awash with pity, but he didn't come closer.
Get used to it, I told the miserable feeling inside my chest that wanted to be in Ranma's arms instead of Anthony's. Because this is the way it has to be.
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The hotel was full; we could get no more rooms. We only had the one that Nabiki had already booked. And so Ranma had decided to go home for the night.
He had assured us that the hotel security was fine and that he would have someone watching us all night to make sure. Nabiki and I protested loudly, but he insisted that he really did have to go home; however, we managed to coerce him into coming over to check out the room and then into staying around for a drink.
Nabiki and I amused ourselves by acting terrified and insisting that he check under the bed, behind the shower curtain, etc. He knew we were faking, we knew that he knew, and he knew that we knew that he knew, but nonetheless it lightened the mood. And the mood really did need some lightening.
You can't live in denial forever, especially when if you do you stand a good chance of not living that long. But I had had far too much reality for my taste in the past few days, and reality was sure as hell starting to wear thin. So after a few minutes of talking, I gave a weary smile and told them I was going to go take a shower and then head for bed. Nabiki told me I really needed one. Ranma said nothing, and I didn't look at him.
The bathroom was neat and elegant. My bathroom at home had always been a wreak - bottles all over the place, lotion and shampoo spills, ugly colored tiles. Somehow I felt as if this bathroom was mocking me - what had I really lost? Nothing that was worth more than emotional value. It just made everything worse. I unwrapped a fresh bar of soap and stared at it, feeling like a traitor to the smoldering ruins I had left behind. I snorted; I was personifying my bland, two room apartment. And then I cried.
"Akane?" Nabiki's voice came through the door. "Are you okay? The water isn't running, and that's usually necessary when you're taking a shower."
I managed to force out a mumbled 'fine' and flushed the toilet so they'd think I'd had to go to the bathroom.
I turned on the water and stared at it for a full minute before getting in. Then I realized that I still had my clothes on and burst out laughing. It wasn't until I'd gotten them off that I realized I was crying again. This was hell.
I scrubbed and scrubbed, hoping that whatever made me so miserable could be washed down the drain. The bubbles went down the drain. The water went down the drain. The misery was the exception that proved the rule. It did not go down the drain.
Damn.
I didn't step out of the shower until long after the water would have started to turn cold, had we been in a house with a limit on supply. I hoped that Nabiki didn't need a shower tonight.
I wrapped myself in a towel and sat down on the floor, staring at the tiles and listening to the dull whir of the fan. I thought about nothing at all, contenting myself with simple existence. Someone was trying to kill me in a variety of dramatic ways. They hadn't given up - they weren't taking any chances on me. Why? I didn't know anything, and even if I did the police wouldn't believe me - I was already a suspect.
I heard Ranma's cell phone chirp through the door and I heard him answer it. The words were too muffled to hear.
My stomach grumbled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten anything at all in more than twenty-four hours. I was starving. And hey, food is a comfort. I needed comfort.
I wrapped the towel tighter around myself and stepped out of the bathroom. Ranma and Naiki were still hidden from my view by a wall, but I could hear their conversation.
"That was the phone people," Ranma said.
"Which would explain why they didn't email you."
"Ha, ha. They called to say that they have conformation."
"Conformation?"
"The phone company records all the telephone calls that were made. Not what was said, you know, but who calls who."
"I know that, Brain Trust. Why do we care?"
"I don't know what significance there is, but the phone call was indeed made. At 2:02 a.m. the day before yesterday, Hiroshi made his last phone call to Akane's apartment."
"That's great!"
"Not necessarily."
"Why? It proves he called her, like she said!"
"It also proves that she probably knew where he was, and they haven't got that for anyone else."
"Someone's trying to kill her!"
"It could be unrelated. The bullets that were shot into Hiroshi's apartment match those of the bullets and the gun that killed him. Hiroshi was targeted with a thirty-eight. Whoever is after Akane packs a 9mm."
"And bombs."
"Some kind of explosives, anyway."
"What really happened?"
"We went up to her apartment. We were talking about one of her coworkers."
"And then?"
"I must have hit my head. Retrograde amnesia, or something. Because she asked me why I hadn't gone with that Amber woman..."
"And...?"
"And after that, I don't remember a thing." ----------------------------------------------------------------------- END OF PART FIVE
PLEASE review or mail me at nakigoe_chan@hotmail.com! I want to know what you think!
In Chapter Six: Hot Six: More clues turn up, but may just make things more confusing. Akane and Ranma have a disagreement, Anthony and Ranma have a disagreement, and Gos gets himself in dangerous trouble. Oh, and people seem to think that this might be leading up to something lemony. Now, I won't say that there is no IMPLIED, ahem, action (don't count your chickens on who is with who!) but I cannot and will not write an After You lemon - I'd be too embarrassed. Heehee.
I've gotten the general impression, somehow, that my cliffhangers are thought of by my readers as a bit of a bad thing. Now, I have dealt with my share of authors with a fetish for cliffhangers, and it drives me bonkers, too. And since I am a very kind, understanding person, my reaction, of course, is hahahahahahaha. Because I have discovered exactly WHY they put cliffhangers in. It's FUN!
But you can't blame me for this one. See, when one of my prereaders, Chris, read chapter four, he told me, "You know, since victims of traumatizing accidents such as this one often lose memory of time right before said accident, you would be entirely justified if one or both of them forgot this whole thing ever happened."
I said, "Heh, heh, heh."
Of course, Chris ALSO innocently suggested a possible crime and criminal(s) to which I had to reply with the standard "I am going to hunt you down and kill you," because Chris (damn you, Chris, ^_~) had, of course, gotten it exactly right. So this chapter goes out to the guy too smart for his own good. ^_^ Of course, he's read more of the story than you all.
And Chris isn't the only brilliant prereader I'm lucky enough to have catching my falls: there's also Diana, Natalia, Greg, and Alissa, although she seems to be MIA (Alissa, if you read this, send me an email!) and they are fantastic. Thanks, guys! And then of course there are those in the AY brigade who are trying to kill me: Whitney, Yueling, Carlen, Mariel, and Hilda. They're mad about the ending of chapter six, which I have of course already written.
I decided to post this today because it is exactly one month after Janet Evanovich's 'Hard Eight' came out and exactly eighteen years after I was born. I'm a legal adult. Oh, good God, watch me panic. I'm not an adult. sigh
People seem to like this fic enough to host it on their sites! This story (so far) resides at the brilliant websites of...
D-Chan: www.geocities.com/ayongedarling Karen Lee: www.karsquare.150m.com/ranma/ranmaindex.htm
Yay! Thanks, minna-san! Anyone who wants to host AY is pretty much welcome to, but I'd appreciate it if you emailed me and asked anyway.
I hope you enjoyed chapter five enough to keep your eyes peeled for chapter six. Ja ne for now!
~ nakigoe-chan