Hisoka's body arched under Watari, the man still groping and feeling, fighting with his own clothes and the boys in his desire. His eyes flew open blinded by the white light that had begun to fill the room. He could feel Muraki invading, but not him, his son. He could feel Keitaro's distress, feel his resistance failing and feel Muraki taking him. He could hear in his mind, the cry and wails for help from his son, helpless to do anything. A wrenching pain constricted his heart, blocked his mind from any logic. All his pain and all his sorrow and helplessness was poured out into a wailing cry that shook the room, echoing off the walls and sounding through the halls out to the still night bathed in red.
It was bounced back over and over between the walls, assaulting the ears of the occupants of the room. It out lasted and out rang the cries of the infant and the laughter of the mad doctor. His body vibrated with the effort and shook long after his scream, though it echoed, echoed in the ears of all that had heard it. His head hit the ground, no longer able to support itself, no longer willing. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing quickly with the blood that had dripped to the ground that his head now rested in. He was empty, so empty and numb. He could not feel anything anymore, just a whole where his heart and stomach used to be.
Amber eyes became dilated and a shine that had been lacking for such a long time. A life was reawaken to the sound of suffering and agony. The blonde became aware of a body beneath him upon which he was pressing his full weight. As his vision cleared he looked curiously about himself. His surroundings did not seem at all familiar and his mind was fuzzed with anything that had happened. There, in front of him was a back, clad in white, platinum blonde all but unrecognizable. "M.. Muraki..." His throat was hoarse, it hurt to talk, it was so dry, as if he hadn't talked in years. his head ached terribly and caused him to flinch a multitude of times as he tried to bite back the pain. The body beneath him shook, causing him to look down at him. Below him was the broken body of the honey blonde, stained crimson with blood and drenched with sweat from exertion. "Hisoka...!" Images were flashing across his eyes, blocking reality. He groaned as his head was beat against, hammered with these images and voices that echoed like a ghosts whisper in his mind.
Always, always there was the image of the man in white, chanting, eyes sparkling and enchanting. he could never turn from those eyes. Hisoka, he could hear him from somewhere on the side. He was screaming, crying. There was agony in his voice, anguish. Something was wrong, he was being tortured. There was crashing, shattering of glass and splintering of wood. And an infant. He was crying, Keitaro was crying. It was growing louder, the screams, the cries and the sound of the fight.
A scream erupted through the room for the second time however, this one drew the attention, unlike the last, of the doctor. This scream was not from the boy, not from his broken doll but from the golden haired man, straddling the boys hips. His hands were clenched, twisted in his hair, head thrown back and screaming from the top of his lungs. So much effort was thrown into his scream that he was lifted from the boy, staggering forward towards Muraki, stumbling and tripping over himself in his pain. The doctor could feel it. His hold over the scientist was slipping. With each second his grip on the mans mind and emotions was slipping till he could hold the mans psyche in check no longer.
"No, Not now! Not now!"
The pain lessened, it was dulled now to a persistent ache, numbing his body. He found himself slouched over, barely able to keep himself up on his feet. But now, now he could remember. Haired mussed and falling into his eyes his head was raised, a glint in his eyes like never before. He caught the eyes of the doctor and rage consumed him, rising from his gut and overfilling him. "You, you made me hurt him..." A growl was growing in the back of his throat. "You did this!" Without thinking the blonde charged, rather sloppily, still unsteady on his legs and tumbling over himself. He was met full on by Muraki, blocking the pedestal. Their hands clasped, fighting for dominance over each other. "You made me to hurt Hisoka, you made me bring you his child!"
His world was so hazed. His vision was white and fuzzed around the edges. his first attempt to pull his head up from the floor was a failure, just as he had expected it to be. He lay there, thinking of just giving it up, letting what happens to him happen. Yet there was a glorious absence of weight, he could breath once more and without laboring. Groggily his head was lifted with enough effort to look ahead of himself. Watari. Watari was there, standing off with Muraki, locked in against him. "Keitaro..." His head was splitting, his body was on fire and screaming with searing pain along every nerve, yet he pushed upwards, separating his breaking body from the ground. "Kei...taro..." No matter how hard he pushed, he could not go faster than his limp would allow. It didn't look that far, yet each step seemed only to take him further from his infant son. With each step he was breathing heavier and heavier, panting as sweat beaded and dripped from his body.
A scream was torn from him as the spirits that had previously been circling the entire room now focused on him. The sweat chilled his body to the point of numbness as the spirits sucked the heat from him, pulling at his open wounds in effort to pull his very energy from him. He stumbled over himself as he tried his best to swat at the spirits that circled him, crying with the pain of their memories and their hatred and sadness at their own existence. Some called out mindlessly for help, as though he could retrieve a body for their soul to house and bring life to them, others, murderous beings in life screamed of pain, torment and death to him, malice dripping from every thought that invaded unwillingly to his mind. A screaming cry brought his attention up to his son. His own pain was so severe, it found it both relieving and frightening that his son had not already fainted from an overload as he wished he could. The infant must have been in so much pain, mental and emotional turned physical by the cursed "gift" that he and his own were tormented with at birth. The screams hardened his reserve, bringing more hope and courage to force his body from the floor and lung forward at the pedestal upon which the child sat. With painful, agonizing steps he was brought within arms reach, only a step or so more...
Muraki threw the blonde to the ground. He'd been weakened by the ceremony and with trying to hold his grip on the scientist while performing such a difficult ceremony. He was not at his max level of strength for a hand to hand combat but it was surely enough to defeat this lower and defenseless shinigami for he'd been weakened too. His hold over the blonde has been strong, he allowed the man to think he was in control of his own movement but since the annoyance had shown itself while he was trying to attain the infant from the brat, there'd not been one movement that had not been calculated, planned and executed by him. He'd seen everything, heard everything and known everything that had taken place in the judgment section from the birth of the brat to the attack that Watari had tried on the boy. There was not a thing he had lost control of, and that had weakened the shinigami severely in mind, spirit and body. Not being in control of himself had been literally destroying the shinigami from the inside out. He would present little of a threat. "You should have stayed in whichever blissful place you'd been placed in. You'd have had everything you wanted! You could have had him as your own and no one, not even heaven or hell could have stopped you." He walked forward, stopping only inches short of stepping on the blonde.

Watari was struggling. He drew in frantic and gasping breathes. Cold sweat poured from his body as he raised to rest on his forearms, panting and trying his hardest to catch his breath. From the very start of the battle his body had been aching terribly. He could feel it now all the more. The adrenaline had worn from his body and he was slowly being drained of even the energy to stand. With numb legs he stagger up into a hunched position, nearly falling again head first into the ground. "I-I am not you!" He shouted as he turned to face his enemy. His limbs were numb and heavy like lead. His arms hung useless and heavy at his sides. He falter again, stumbling backwards and forwards again as he tried to gain a balance that would hold his battered body.

Hisoka reached the pedestal. The spirits were thick here, those that had been circling Muraki and Keitaro and those that had extended to the outskirts of the room had gathered in the centered of the room, circling him seemingly in a pattern. As some kept a solid form of a circle about the father and son others would swipe in from this circle, attack randomly, quickly and without warning. He swatted desperately at them, trying to force them away, to break them apart so that they'd never bother him or his son again. Yet there seemed to be a never ending supply and they were all but invincible to his swatting hands. With no other choice he picked up his screaming son, feeling a burning fever on his pale skin and electric shock that danced along the curse marks that Muraki had painted on his flesh. It stung him terribly to touch his own son but he was certain the infant must have been in much worse pain than himself.

He pulled the infant close to him, falling against the pillar. He couldn't move. Having Keitaro with him, knowing that his son was finally in his arms, his own body gave out on him. The adrenaline that had pushed him this far was suddenly sucked from his body when he had his son in his own arms, the time he needed it most! Though even if the adrenaline had lasted, there was no way to pass the souls. They struck out, numbing flesh and causing even more electrical shocks than those of the curse that Hisoka was working to scrub from Keitaro's small naked form. His bloodied, dirty and torn clothes were dragged across the blood, smearing some of the fresher blood and fading the fever and shocks subside. Though he was still in a bind to protect himself from the attacks of the spirits around him, placing himself between them and his son the beast he could, draping his body over his son and curling to protect the both of them.

Muraki sneered at the shinigami. For a breaking body the man certainly had a lot of defiance. That annoyed him. He raised his fist to strike the man but turned swiftly. The boy was at his alter, the child had been pulled from the cushioned top and now was cradled desperately in the arms of it's mother. He could feel the connection between them fading as the boy scrubbed out the seal that had been painted on his skin. Where his consciousness had been syncing with the child it was now separating and thinning. The brat was once more in his way. A growl escaped him as he clenched his fists. He was ruining everything!

A tinge of pain came across his nerves and he dug a nail into the cut he'd made to adorn his blood to the infants skin. His eyes glanced down at his fingers as he played with them in the air. A glint came to his eye as an idea came to his mind. Pulling the blade that had been used earlier to prick his own finger from his pocket he fingered the handle. He would do away with the boy, once and for all. It would be a simple matter now, the boy being mortal once more. This time he would not draw out his death, nor make an effort to maintain the boys beauty. He would slice him limb from limb, then deal with scientist before continuing on with his plan. A smirk on his face he gave a yell and charged the youth at the pedestal.

Hisoka looked up at the yell that he heard. Through the haze and tail of the spirits circling him he could see the pure white of the suit and the grey glint off silver hair and glass eye as the doctor charged them. Stumbling numbly to his feet he manage to fall from the platform upon which the pedestal had been placed and tumble, rolling across the floor just in time only get nicked by the blade on his lower leg. A cry broke from his throat and grunts of effort at trying to keep from crushing his son as he rolled and slid across the floor. With as much effort as he could muster he attempted to push himself up. Muraki had recovered quickly, instantly from his failed attack. He was already facing the boy, mad glint in his eyes and dagger in hand. Unfortunately, he possessed no strength to move another inch, he tried, and tried again but he never made it more than halfway into an upright position before falling backwards on his rump again. Tears stung his eyes as he watched the doctor approach, flushed with frustration and effort as he tried at first to run and then to crawl, both attempts futile.

"You will never be in my way again." The doctor said. The boy curled in on himself, shielding his son and reflectively acting in defense, begging the gods to survive. The doctor laughed as he struck out, stabbing the blade into flesh, warm blood overflowing the blade as he twisted and turned the blade within the living body that he'd struck. He'd enjoyed the feeling of the flesh breaking and tearing under his command and the sputtering of the arteries and veins as they spit out blood over his hand, but things had not gone as he'd planned. Between him and his target was now the body of the scientist, dagger buried deep within his abdomen, hands wrapped tightly about the doctors own wrists, pressing the knife into is stomach and not allowing the man to pull away. A minor issue, he'd have been next on the list but a growl grew in his throat when the shinigami would not allow him to remove his hand nor the dagger that had been thrust straight into his own stomach. "Let go you damn guardian of death!"

Hisoka stared. When the blow that he'd been expecting had not landed he'd turned up in time to have a spurt of blood land across his cheeks as he came face to face with a blade sticking through the back of Watari's body. His eyes were wide as he watched, frightened and confused by the shanghais behavior in front of him. Watari had sacrificed himself for him. "Wa…tari…" The name fell from his lips numbly. His whole body that had been stiff and tense had relaxed itself, numb once more. He felt not even the wound on his leg nor the burning of a fever that had begun to take hold of his crumbling body. He just felt numb. His mind reeled with thoughts, trying to figure out what had gone through Wataris mind, why had the man sacrificed himself after beating him, kidnapping his son and trying to rape him. Were there too different Watari's?

There came a rumbling from somewhere outside the room, all turned to look at the door of the room. There came another rumble that shook them all to the very core, the metal beams above them creaked and groaned at the earth moving quake. Muraki growled once, pulling harsher at the dagger. Watari pulled, actually managing to push the dagger deeper into his own body. "Tsuzuki is coming, once he breaks through those doors, it's all over for you.." His eyes were drooping, his voice was becoming more silent as he lost more and more blood. The room shook horribly, knocking the pair over. In shock Watari had allowed the blade to be pulled from his own body.

Muraki had gone flying, sliding across the floor. The dagger had gone flying from his hand, skidding across the floor far from him. Above him the rafters bent and curved inwards. The room was beginning to cave in on them. Truzuki's attempts at entering the building from the outside had caused it to become unstable. The amethyst eyed guardian of death was literally causing more trouble, about to kill them all. These beams would not hold much longer. There was a loud and tremendous rumble at the door as the metal creaked and fell back down with a dust of metal and dirt that burst into the air. Beyond the door stood the figure of the man that brought a smile to the doctors face. "Tsuzuki -san"

Before the man could move an attack was launched at him. The doctor managed to dodge the worst but was struck in the side. The beam shot through the left side of his body, a searing pain flaring across his nerves. "Enough games, Muraki!"

"Tsuzuki!" Somehow Hisoka had found his voice, screaming for the man the moment the dust settled enough to see him. As if thinking the same the infant gave out a loud cry as well.

Within only a second Tsuzuki's attention had turned from the evil doctor to his lover, fallowing his voice to beyond the body of Watari where he'd fallen. He was so pale, blood running from thousands of cuts on his frail body and his face red with fever. His clothes were torn and cut apart, barely clinging in a decent manner to his body. Their son was tinted red, squirming and crying in his 'mothers' arms. "Hisoka!" Tsuzuki was rushing to his side, forgetting all about the mad doctor who'd fallen to his knees. His arms were about the boy, pulling him against his chest after pulling his own trench coat and wrapping it on the boys shoulders, squeezing him tightly. "Hisoka….." Tears stung his eyes as he held the boys face in his hands, looking into the boys emerald eyes, moist with tears. "I thought I'd never see either of you again…"

A rumble came from the rafter above them. The room shook and the creaking and groaning of the steel became louder. The room was caving in upon itself. "The roof's coming down. We've got to get out of here." Tsuzuki stood, tucking the coat more securely around Hisoka's shoulder, wrapping the infant with the end of the coat before pulling the two up, holding him first against his chest.

From off in the distance Tsuzuki could see Muraki standing again. His white suit was stained with blood and dirt, his right hand clutching at his left side. His eyes were glistening, a smile breaking out across his face as he let out a laugh that mad Tsuzuki think all the more that the doctor had finally been driven insane. It reminded Him much of the first time they'd met, that time he'd saved his lover from him the first time in the flames as he seemed to fade into them and disappear into the sky in wafts of smoke. "This isn't over Tsuzuki san. This is far from over." The man snarled and grit his teeth as he watched the doctor disappear into a light and swirl of dust and smoke once more. If only he could he'd have ripped his head from his shoulders. However the room would not last much longer and he had to get his family out of here before the roof caved in on their heads.

Hisoka looked down at the shinigami lying on the ground at his feet. The blast which Tsuzuki had used to open the door had knocked him off his feet, which in truth was not a difficult thing to do. His body had been shredded and Hisoka knew, Had Muraki not been tossed aside by the same blast, the man wouldn't have lasted much longer, leaving Hisoka in a dangerous position. Since then it seemed he would not stand again, a puddle of blood had grown beneath him, he wasn't healing either, he must have been too weak. His head was turned as his heart jumped with a crash. The rafters and beam that had held the underground room up were already beginning to crumble. The dirt packed above the steel plates was falling down over them The groaning of the metal as it bent and cracked under the pressure that built as the support beams gave way and the earth pressed down. Before he knew it he was already halfway to the door, dirt and metal falling about them as Tsuzuki tried to rush out. Then finally his sense came back to him.

"Tsuzuki! Watari can't get out!" AS he expected the purple eyed man stopped immediately and a feeling of utter confusion and hatred swept past Hisoka's senses. Tsuzuki's eyes were searching his lovers in question of why Hisoka would even bring up the man. Desperately Hisoka took hold of Tsuzuki's shirt, pleading with him. "He saved us! I don't know what happened but he wasn't himself before. Please…" The man looked back over his shoulders at the man lying on the floor. Between Hisoka and Keitaro he had no room to lift the man, nor the desire to do so. Another loud crash as the beams fell about them. Turning back to his lover his heart fell at the pleading look in his eyes.

"There's not enough time. The room will collapse before I can get him." Lowering his head he took a tighter hold on his family as he continued out the door. Realizing what that Tsuzuki was planning to leave Watari behind Hisoka gasped, mouth hung open as he looked back over Tsuzuki's shoulder to the blonde that slowly but surely became smaller as they put more distance between him and them. With a scream he extended his arm, reaching for the man in terror as he watched a beam fall between them, blocking all view of the man.

"Watari!"

….Don't really have anything to say… not particularly happy with this chapter, I don't know why, I might revise it, it just seemed rushed, even though it took like soooooo long to write… I dunno, maybe it's fine.