The Shotgun Approach

Chapter 31: Now Is the Time

. . .

I trudged through filth and rain-soaked streets, kicking litter aside in my haste. Cradled in my arms were several parcels—herbs, salves, medicines for sick people who could not afford it. Since the bombings, many hospitals also refused their services to known demons and the masses living in Sarayshiki were without even the most basic of healthcare.

It brought me back to my days working in Gandara.

Today was Sunday, the only day of rest I usually allowed myself, but after hearing of the plights among the demon workers helping rebuild what was ruined thanks to Einarr I chose to spend my weekends tending my herbs and passing out what I could to those in need.

This wasn't anything new; many came to the station specifically to see me. While I worked in emergency medicine, my background was in healing. I knew basic surgical techniques, how to heal and lessen the severity of wounds, and could make medicines of any kind so long as I did not lack the ingredients. My time spent away and my distance from my previous work created a bit of a problem for the others remaining on my abandoned crew.

They were forced to turn people away, and it created a lot of distrust in the demonic community.

I was here to rectify that.

As the cold gray morning turned into a chilly, but sunny, afternoon I made my presence in the slums known. Setting up a pseudo-medical stop in one of the more popular soup kitchens, I spent my entire day treating the sick and elderly who populated this part of the city. Demon or human, I turned no one away. No matter the problem, I worked hard to make sure they left feeling at least a bit of comfort if nothing else.

Some recognized me from my time as an EMT. Others from the medicines I'd made to help them.

This was how I spent every Sunday now.

It was a good distraction, one that left me feeling fulfilled instead of empty.

But it did nothing to curb the desire for the drugs. Between patients, I would spread the powder across my gums or snort it off the back of my hand. It made my mind cloudy but my hands still worked by their own accord, more instinct than actual skill at this point.

People noticed.

The demons didn't care, but many humans took my diagnoses with grains of salt. They whispered among themselves, and part of me wished I could feel some form of shame, but the drugs dulled and diluted everything.

I just didn't care.

That evening, as I packed up my sparse set of medical equipment, my medicines, and tinctures, I heard a loud clearing of someone's throat behind me. My back still turned, I held up a finger asking for the person to wait a moment. I thought I was done for the day.

I busied myself with pulling out what I'd managed to put away, but a hand at my wrist stopped me.

"I'm not here for a check-up, but I'll cough for ya if you want to touch my balls that bad."

Whirling around, I wrenched my wrist out of his hold and stood lost for words. I never thought he would approach me after all this time. Since my encounter with Hiei, I stopped following him. I merely listened and observed the city, waiting to hear any news of a new threat against the king.

There were many false alarms and weeding through them was tireless work. I wondered if it was similar to Hiei and Kurama's daily life as the King's Hands. Yusuke certainly had a propensity for getting himself into trouble without the help of a villain, and even more, people wished him dead these days.

"It's dangerous for you to be here," I snapped. I could see the eyes on us; the glances cast his way secretive and hostile.

"Do you think I'm scared of any of these small fries? Gimme a break."

"That isn't the point—"

He grabbed me again, dragging me away from my little setup and into an abandoned room used to store donations for the soup kitchen.

"I met someone interesting a few days ago," he began. "Calls himself Erri."

"Shit," I hissed, leaning around him to make sure the door was firmly shut. "He didn't hurt you did he?" I glanced him over, reaching out to touch and then thinking better of it. I dropped my hands and my gaze. "Sorry, of course, you're fine."

Yusuke was the only demon to hold the title of king for two consecutive terms. I needed to stop thinking of him as someone who needed to be saved.

He didn't need saving.

He didn't need me at all.

"He looks a lot like you. So what is it this time? Another brother to run off with and plot my demise?"

"I never—" I let out a loud, irritated sigh. Yusuke wouldn't believe me anyway. "Erri is my brother, yes, but I only met him a couple of weeks ago. Before this, I was no more aware than you that there was another besides Einarr."

He stared me down, his gaze hard and searching. After a long moment, he just nodded. "I thought as much. He didn't talk like he knew you very well."

Yusuke took a seat on an upturned five-gallon bucket and ran his hands through his hair. It was getting longer, more unkempt, much like Hiei's. They were spending too much time on containing the crisis in the city and not enough time on themselves.

"What did he want with you?" I asked, kneeling in front of him. My hands itched to touch him, to comfort in some way. I kept them firmly clasped together in my lap and ignored the ache.

Yusuke laughed, the sound small and humorless. "He wanted to take me to your father."

My hands clenched even harder, my nails digging into the undersides of my fingers. It seemed to find Einarr was not the only thing on his agenda.

"You came here to ask why," I said. When Yusuke nodded, I rose to my feet and paced to one of the many shelves, picking up a random jar of what appeared to be pickled beets. I turned it in my hands, watching the watery contents shift and float before sinking again. "This is pure conjecture because I have never been much good at guessing my father's motives or the way his mind works. He merely does whatever he thinks is best for his clan, no matter the means."

"What the hell does he want with me then?"

"I'm assuming for bait."

He did laugh at that. "Bait? God, the drugs have done a number on you."

The barb stung, but I took it without comment. "He wants Einarr back. So does Erri. And Einarr wants you. It is simple math."

"I'd make a terrible hostage," he said, and I turned to find him grinning, a light in his eyes as if the idea intrigued him. "I'm tempted to take him up on his offer."

I felt of a rush of unabashed panic lance straight through me. He couldn't seriously be thinking of going along with Erri?

My lips curled back into a snarl, fangs flashing in the dim lighting provided by the single light-bulb hanging above. "I'll kill him," I growled. "I'll kill him in cold blood without a thought if you choose to go with him."

His eyebrows raised towards his hairline and his face got stuck somewhere between shock and humor, his lips half curled into a grin and his eyes wide. He didn't see the severity. He didn't understand why it would be the worst mistake of his life.

"You can't do much like that, can you," he said, waving his hand down my front with a laugh. "You can hit pretty hard, you gave Hiei a run for his money a few months back, but this guy is on a whole 'nother level."

I couldn't sense energies anymore. There was no reason to doubt the king, but it did nothing to calm my fears or my anger.

"My father will do little more than use and discard you. He will not be kind. He will not find you funny or interesting. Your charm will do nothing to win him over as you have all the others. He is a different type of beast, one you will never be able to comprehend even if you saw him with your own eyes." I stalked up to him, standing over him with imploring eyes and vehement face. "Do not decide to go with Erri for some foolish reason."

Yusuke licked his lips, sensing a challenge, and smiled wide enough to show off his own fangs. It wasn't friendly, but vicious in its quality. A threat. "What are you gonna do about it?"

And that was the problem, wasn't it? I stood there with fists clenched so hard they shook, my teeth gritted tight and painful. What could I do? He would do as he pleased. He came here to antagonize me, I could see that. I just didn't understand it.

"Why are you here?"

Yusuke's grin fell away, and he abruptly stood from the bucket, nearly knocking into me. He crowded me into one of the shelves, not bothering to back off even when I slammed into it and sent several cans tumbling to the floor.

"Why did you do it, Ettie?" His hands moved, fingers brushing against the bare skin of my arms, tracing the newest artwork. He stared for a long moment, seeing the half-finished designs and old lettering and tribal markings.

"I already told you why," I said. It did nothing to break Yusuke from his reverie, his fingers only lingered, soft and dangerous.

"I feel like what you told us at your trial wasn't the whole story. You're really good at spinning things to your advantage, I'll give you that."

I wrenched away from him, slamming into the metal shelving again and creating a racket that was sure to draw attention to the room. I didn't care.

"You're right. I am good at spinning stories, but none of it was a lie."

"I didn't say it was." His eyes turned dark, a deep burgundy, the same shade they turned to when using his demonic abilities. "Why'd ya do it, Ettie? Something tells me it was more than just to find your son...or to save my miserable life."

I stared up at him, dumbfounded. What was I to say? He knew I used him to further my means. I used them all. I knew the exact moment using turned into actually wanting to be near them, and every day I felt guilt eat its way through me. Every single day. I never wanted to betray them. Einarr's appearance wasn't planned. Neither was Magni's.

I couldn't tell Yusuke the reason I wanted to save him so badly was that he reminded me of Artair.

My feelings for Yusuke were different, abstract and painful and difficult to understand. What I felt for Artair was as natural as breathing. He was the closest to a soulmate I would ever come.

Yusuke reminded me so strongly of him in so many ways...but there were so many others that he didn't. He wasn't Artair. Projecting his image onto him wasn't fair to Yusuke in the slightest. I knew that. It didn't quell the part of me that wanted to protect him, however, no matter how many times I tamped it down.

I couldn't save Artair when he needed me the most.

If the same were to happen to Yusuke...

Reaching up, I brushed the tips of my fingers across the markings on his face, the darkened color a beautiful contrast to his tanned skin.

No, Yusuke was not Artair.

Artair was gone. He was never coming back.

So many years I allowed my past to define me, to gnaw its way through me until all my insides were empty. I filled that emptiness with drugs and blood on my hands.

Artair would be ashamed of me.

"I do not expect your forgiveness, Yusuke, no matter how badly I desire to have it. My reasons are my own, but I went with Einarr intending to end his regime of terror from within. I never meant for it to hurt you in so many ways. I never wanted that."

His nose turned up in a sneer, averting his gaze, and he sucked his teeth clearly irritated with my answer. "Not good enough."

He stepped away, letting my hands fall from his face, and shoved his own into his pockets. "Think I will pay a visit to your dear old dad. I want to see first hand why you are the way you are. I mean...if you don't wanna tell me, I guess it's my only option."

He walked to the door, and although I knew he was doing a piss poor job of bating me, I still moved to stand in front of it. "You never told me why you came here. Just to goad me? To once again reaffirm how great of a job I have done making you hate me?"

"You won't answer my questions, why should I do you any favors?"

He pushed me out of the way and fled through the door, stalking through the soup kitchen like he owned the place. I left my things behind, chasing after him as he exited the building and began to weave his way through the many back allies in the slums.

"Yusuke!"

It was dark outside now. My demonic senses were just as sharp as they always were, my high waned a long time ago, and I was desperate for more, but I still managed to lose sight of the king.

I searched for a time, calling out his name and ignoring the angry protests of the people living in the projects. When he didn't return, I knew I'd lost him. I was confused and angry and frantic. It still didn't stop me from sinking down the smooth side of one of the buildings and snorting a line of powder off my hand. I remained after that, sitting in garbage and muck and smelling of all manner of foul things.

Placing my head in my hands, I let the high wash over me and didn't even care when the sky opened up and began to pour. I wanted to drown. Drown in the rain or my sorrows or the drugs, it didn't matter.

Eventually, soaked through, I rose and began my long trek home. I tried several times on the way to call Yusuke but he refused to pick up his phone, and I ended up merely closing mine with an irritated snap, breaking the tiny screen in the process.

Why did he come to me? Just to reconfirm that I hadn't changed? That I was still unworthy of even the most minuscule amount of his forgiveness? Or was it merely to prove how unbelievably stubborn he could be?

No matter the exact reason, it still left me unsatisfied and angry.

Upon returning to my apartment, I stripped out of my soaking clothes and tossed them in a heap to be washed later. I didn't bother to redress, it was a waste of time. Instead, I gathered up a sketchbook and pencils and took to my balcony where the rain poured from the one above it in a watery curtain, safe from prying eyes.

Drawing in a drug haze always brought on a streak of inspiration. I often didn't realize what I was sketching until it was finished, I just continued to shade and outline and smudge until something came of it.

Sometimes it was something straight from a nightmare. Other times it was family, old friends, people I once called my own.

Lately, they were the tree. Always the tree.

The tree with massive drops of solidified dew reeking of power.

I wondered what color it would turn if it should devour Yusuke—would it turn an electrifying blue or perhaps the blood red of his demonic energy? Or maybe it would be a combination of both and become a bruise like purple, viscous and horrifying.

Mindless, I drew the tree over and over, ripping out the used pages and throwing them from the balcony to be turned to mush on the rain-soaked pavement below.

I stayed like that until morning, watched the sun rise over the horizon and spread its light across the buildings one by one.

The final drawing wasn't the tree.

The last page remained in the book, drawn in stark detail and I slammed the cover closed, tossing it back through my sliding door to land in the mess of my bedroom.

Still, the rage simmered.

The more wild side of myself wanted to hunt and kill Erri before he could even think of stealing away with the king. Without my powers, it would be a fool's errand. I knew this and yet still needed to tell my self over and over that I would be of no use the way I am now.

Clenching my fists before me, I stared down at the useless things with a sneer.

No energy did not mean I was weak. It just gave me a handicap that couldn't be overlooked. The drugs didn't help.

If you want to prove yourself, get clean.

So many times those words came back to me, over and over. Would it even be enough? Did I even have the strength anymore?

The thought of being clean...

My teeth clenched and I left my perch on my balcony, returning inside to dig through my discarded pockets and pull out the vial of powder.

For several long minutes, I held it up and stared, the mix of herbs and pills a hideous shade of poisonous green. I should throw it away, I thought. Flush it and be done with it. I should...I should...

I didn't.

I never would.

Instead, I spent the day skipping out of work and doing line after line after line...

I would never change.

The reason I stayed so long with Einarr—the real reason, beneath everything else—was because he never cared. He spoke to me just the same when I was on the drugs as he did when I wasn't. He did not judge or question or even bother to ask. I knew it was because he just did not care, not even slightly, about how I chose to ruin myself.

I wanted to find my son. I tried to save Yusuke. Yes, all of that was true. But what I truly needed was acceptance.

Nowhere truly provided me with such a simple thing. Nowhere but Artair.

Even Lord Yomi, who inexplicably trusted me throughout my entire tenure as his personal healer, truly accepted me just how I was. He too tried his hardest to get me to stop using the drugs. He killed or paid off all the dealers. He forced me to have an assistant so they could watch me as I worked, always making sure I was sober as I treated the nobles of Gandara.

But at night, when I was alone, I always turned back to it.

Yomi could not break me.

Neither could any that came before or after him.

It was the only thing that made me forget the hollowness beneath my own breast. It was a sick sort of comfort, but one nonetheless. To give that up would mean to suffer and remember and drown in visceral, never-ending memory.

Nothing else would fill the void, would mask the ache. It was all I had.

Day turned to night...and night into dawn...and still I laid in my bed naked and reeking and high.

The soft knock at my front door didn't make me rise. Neither did it when it opened without permission. The person who stood outside and stared in unseeing pity only made my dead gaze shift to the side to stare at the wall.

He couldn't see me.

But he knew.

Lord Yomi picked his way through the filth of my home and knelt beside my bed as no Lord should ever do for one of his subjects.

Least of all for one like me.

He leaned to prod me with one of his horns, as if he were some sort of forest animal, and took a deep breath of my scent. "You smell like death."

It wasn't an insult, but a statement of fact. It did nothing to change how I felt.

"You should have returned to Gandara weeks ago," I murmured, voice hoarse from disuse and lack of hydration.

"Of anyone, you should understand how truly stubborn I am," was his reply.

I laughed, the sound harsh and hysterical, tears springing to my eyes. Damn him. Damn him.

"I won't do as you ask."

"Return to Gandara with me, then."

"I can't," I said, laughs turning to hysterical sobs. I rolled over, showing Yomi my back and groping for one of his hands. I moved it until his fingertips brushed the brand and snarled in pain when they did.

"I heard all about your sentence from Koenma himself," he said, drawing his hand away. "I gave you away the day you asked to leave Gandara. I could have arranged it so you could not leave."

"Are you saying I am your property?"

"I would call you more of a friend, more so than property, but we believe what we want."

He stood, shooing away his escort when the man stuck his head through my door to check on him. The hand he offered me I chose to ignore, rising on my own and trudging into my kitchen. Coffee. Coffee was a necessity at this point.

Soon enough the smell filled the apartment and Yomi was sitting at my table nursing a chipped mug and openly not giving a single shit about my nudity or the state of my home. He might be blind, but that didn't mean he did not see.

I sipped at my mug, savoring the taste and the warmth. I was far from sober, but this was the soberest I'd been in two days.

"I cannot return to Gandara with you," I repeated. "The brand prohibits it."

"Yes, I heard as much."

I stared at him blankly, annoyed. Of course, he had. So why was he here? "Then, take your leave and be done with it."

Yomi chuckled, setting down his mug and leaning against my old wooden table. "Do you remember our previous conversation? I told you I would not take no for an answer."

"You let me go," my voice was nearing a whine, and I quickly reigned it back in, swallowing past a thick lump in my throat. "You let me go, my lord, so the choice is no longer yours."

"Let me help you, Ettie."

For him to use the shorthand version of my name caused me to pause. I watched the liquid slosh in the mug as I gently rolled it in my palms, contemplating.

If you want to prove yourself, get clean.

I knew I couldn't do it on my own. Years of drug use eroded any willpower I might have had over it. It was ingrained now, more than a habit, but an obsession.

Swallowing hard, I looked back up at him, saw the truth in his face and knew if I did not decide to do it now, I never would.

When I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth, he just sighed and rose from his seat as regal as ever. "I am sorry you feel that way," he said. "But the offer is always open."

As he gathered his coat and replaced his shoes in the doorway, he paused. "Mukuro's boy cares for you. If you will not do it for me...perhaps him."

He left before I could form a reply and I remained stunned, staring at the door for a long while after his footsteps faded down the hall.

He would be back, I was sure. Only it wouldn't be with an offer of help.

Mukuro's boy...surely he didn't mean Hiei?

The thought was laughable.

What even gave him that impression...

The kiss was the most likely of conclusions. The most easily mistaken, too. It wasn't out of any sort of kindness on Hiei's part, let alone caring, but I could understand how Yomi could misconstrue it.

Hiei did not care for me.

He'd kissed me twice with carnal hunger, but not an ounce of it was love.

In many ways, he was exactly who I could have become. Angry, murderous, and aloof. Strong. Driven.

Instead, I chose a life of hard drugs and healing. I saved lives to make myself feel better, to cover up some of the taints on my soul. The added benefit of actually helping people was merely a bonus.

Hiei was right, I was only pretending to be a good person. I was far from an actual one.

As I sat and thought of every possible way I had royally ruined my entire life, I realized at some point it became hard to remember who I was before the drugs...my personality, the things I enjoyed, even some of the techniques and strategies I'd learned as I grew in power. All of it was a blur. All but the bad.

Who was I? I wasn't so sure anymore.

My name was Etternia. I was the first born child of Jarl Vidar of the Ylfing clan. Elementa by birth, Vulva, and healer by choice. I was the chosen of the Goddess Freya, the wife of Ingvar the Stonemason, and daughter of the ice. I was one of the few Elementa who could use all four elements and mix them to create new ones. I was a ranking officer in my father's armies and knew how to kill just as well as any of the men in the clan.

I was all of those things.

At one point, long in my past.

Now, I was nothing more than I washed up addict with nothing to show for her name other than a string of mistakes and burnt bridges.

The moon rose. I showered and spent the time to untangle my hair and properly braid it. I put on fresh clothes and packed a small bag. I did all of this in silence, never noticing the pair of eyes that stared at me through the window of my balcony.

Taking a final look around my apartment, I laid my sketchbook open on my kitchen table, picked up my bag and locked up. I placed the key at the top of the door jamb. One of them would find it quick enough.

I would not take Yomi's help. My belief I could not do it on my own was reason enough to at least try. This was not who I was. This was not the Etternia my father worked, again and again, to beat out of me. Father could not break me. Ingvar, my once husband, could not break me. My mother could not break me.

What gave me such a right to so thoroughly break myself?

The walk was a long one, and I didn't know if they would accept someone in the dead of night, but if I did not go now I would never go, and the cycle would just continue to repeat, over and over. Until the day came where the drugs finally did me in.

Now was the only time. Now, when my powers were gone, and I was less likely to hurt someone.

I stood outside the gates of the rehab center for an hour before he appeared out of the darkness as if he were made of it.

"Giving up?"

I wrapped a hand around one of the bars, staring at the security box with the little buzzer that made my hands shake just at the sight of it. "It could kill me," I said, "the withdrawal."

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"No."

"Then what is stopping you?"

Nothing.

Nothing was stopping me other than my own mind telling me how much better off I would be with it.

I pressed the buzzer.

. . .

A/N: Next chapter will be in Yusuke's POV! Any guesses as to who it was Ettie was talking to in the end?

This chapter was a doozy to write. I really tried to get deep into Ettie's head. I know she's mine, but goddamn, haha.