Her Needs and Mine

Broken Quill and Scattered Ink

A/N: I do not own Ranma ½.

….-….-….

Ranma, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

But Mom—

Please. For now.

….-….-….

Akane Saotome awoke to an empty bed. Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, she blearily saw the clock read 2.15 am. Then, her hand fell to the empty spot beside her.

"Ranma?"

She threw on her robe and went down the stairs, seeing the dojo lights on.

….-….-….

The rain must be leaking from the roof.

It had to be. He was not crying.

He let out a string of curses, furiously wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, before thrusting himself roughly into the next kata. He forced his mind to focus on the swing of the kick, on the next throw of a punch.

It wasn't long before he crumbled to the ground on his knees, wasn't long until his gasps of exhaustion slowly morphed into small, inhibited sobs from the throat, to small whines. He covered his face from the dojo, the place of strength. He pushed his head to the floor, hiding his vulnerability from the world.

This is so unmanly, he thought wryly.

….-….-….

There were very few times that Akane had witnessed Ranma cry. When she did, it was when he had lost his strength, or the time when she had eaten that Super Soba. He cried in the corner in a feeble position, pathetically. It was comedic. Akane never felt the need to be his shoulder to cry on. It was nothing that ate at his soul.

Then, at Jusenkyo. He had cried over her while holding her. When she woke up, he was crying above, and she was sure she had heard him say those three precious words.

And since then, they have married. She had never heard him say those words since. Ranma had tried, several times, but to no avail. And she learned to accept it. She would wait until he was ready. His actions spoke louder than his words, and she felt that he loved her. She, however, had matured, and was able to verbally speak about her feelings. She had probably told him that she loved him hundreds of times by now. And each time, he would stiffen, and his face would redden, and he would stutter, trying to say it back to her.

She had to admit that his attempts were cute.

But this. The way he was crying now, on the dojo floor, was different than all of the ways he had cried before. He was trying so hard to hide his sobs into the floor. Trying to hide his pain.

Ranma…

….-….-….

It seemed out of nowhere, the silence gave birth to a ricketing noise that Ranma knew so well. The dojo door had been slid open. Hastily sitting up in what hopefully looked like the lotus stance of meditation, he brought his arm to his eyes to wipe the remaining tears. He willed himself to stop the sniffling and the heaving gasps that inflated and deflated his chest.

His nightmare came in a voice.

"Ranma?"

Oh no. Akane.

He couldn't let her see him in this most vulnerable state. He, Ranma Saotome, could not be seen crying this way.

Her concern lilted her tone into a pretty decibel. "Ranma, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

Gathering himself, he removed his arm that he knew his wife had seen wiping his eyes. He looked up at her, bending over a few centimeters in front of him, with the chocolate-colored irises that swirled with the weariness of being awake at such a late hour, and a mix with the gold-hint of worry. Ranma steeled his eyes; forced his strength to replace his prior weakness.

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep." He cursed his voice for the slight crack. "I thought I would work out a bit."

Not buying his answer, he watched his wife kneel in front of him. She took his hand that rested on his knee, and it was now, when he focused on it, that he realized his hands were shaking.

"Ranma," she started, her warmth pulsating and inviting, helping rid of the coldness Ranma felt earlier.

He grinned that grin of superiority that he knew she hated. "Hmph. Just had a stupid nightmare. Don't worry about it and go back to sleep, 'Kane." His voice came out rougher than intended.

I don't want to talk about this with you. I don't need you to see me like this.

A ball of energy that was Akane flew at him, her arm leaving his only to wrap around his neck, and the other resting on the back of his head, protecting him from the eyes of the world that he was so afraid of in that moment.

"Akane, leggo, what're you—"

Her breath was warm in his ear.

She spoke in whispers. "Ranma, I have never seen you cry this way. Please let me help."

How does she always know to say the things I need to hear from her?

"Hmph." Was his instant reply. "Like I ever needed help from you, Tomboy,"

He wouldn't let her break him. His mother already had, and he did not need another important woman in his life have him wrapped around her finger. As if to keep up with his aggressive speak, he refrained from holding Akane as well, keeping his arms locked onto the dojo wooden boards as he held her weight from her hug.

Akane pulled away, much too soon for Ranma's taste, giving him an irritated frown.

"I was offering help because I'm worried about you, Ranma."

He fed off of her anger to fuel his own. Straightening to adapt a dominating stance, or as dominating as he could seated, he whispered harshly. "I didn't ask for you to worry about me, did I? I don't need any of that from you."

Akane narrowed her eyes. "Well excuse me for caring! I came out of my way to come and check on you—"

"I don't need that from you!" he repeated. He told himself that if he said it aloud many times, that it would become true. "I don't need you to worry about me! I don't need you to come check on me! I don't need anything! I don't need anyone! And I certainly don't need you!"

Akane widened her eyes. With a high-speed mood change, Ranma instantly ducked his head and shrunk submissively into the ground.

He didn't have to look up to know that tears were pooling in her beautiful eyes. He waited for the hit, or slap, or punch, that never came, but instead, heard her small, breaking voice.

"Well fine, then."

There was a ruffle of her nightgown, and padding footsteps that broke into a run up their staircase.

"Wait, Akane!" he stood in a delayed reaction and ran after her. Once he reached the staircase, he saw her at the top, fumbling with their doorknob with one hand, and the other holding her eye, catching tears. He took the stairs three steps at a time, and when he reached Akane, close enough to wrap his arms around her in apology, she disappeared behind their door and slammed it shut.

He heard the click of her locking him out of their room.

He pounded his fist against their door. "C'mon, Akane, let me in. I didn't…I didn't mean it…I—"

Ranma stopped abruptly when he heard her quiet sobs, muffled through the door. His pigtail animatedly lowered, and his shoulders slumped.

….-….-….

Please let the window be unlocked…

Ranma watched from the outside, on the branch of a tree near the window, seeing his wife wrap herself in thick blankets, only making out tendrils of blue-black hair out of the blanket burrito she had turned herself into. Akane's form was shaking hard, and even from outside the closed window, he heard her sobs escalate into small, short, uncontrollable whines. He hated hearing her do that. He sighed, closed his eyes, and steeled his will before opening the window, and fluidly throwing his feet and body inside.

She sat up instantly, her eyes wide with fear and tears. When she recognized him, there was a slight look of relief. Then, a look of disappointment, and Ranma guessed that she was berating herself for not locking the window. Finally, there was a look of betrayal and of heartbreak—the worst look that Ranma could ever see painted on her face. This was the look he was used to seeing, especially when she caught him to be happening to be hugged by Shampoo, or when Ukyo shoved a piece of okonomiyaki into his mouth, or if Kodachi had been chasing him and for some odd reason, she had seen him at the moment the ribbons were wrapped around him and she had caught him in a hug. Akane had the best timing.

Yet, no matter what the situation, Ranma always hated that look on her. It was a sign of his failure, no longer as a fiancée, but now, as a husband. The feeling was something he almost couldn't bear.

Akane pulled away the sheets and swung her feet to the ground. She looked at the floor, and no longer could face him.

"You can sleep here," she whispered, the fire and ire of words no longer became a part of her vocabulary. Akane had become a mistress of coldness in this past year Ranma had been married to her. Her words no longer stung. It was her actions that he had to deal with nowadays.

"You sleep here," she repeated, standing. "I should sleep on the couch."

That was an action Ranma would not allow to happen. Selfishly, Ranma bolted towards her, grabbing her arm. "That's not fair! You know that—that I-I can't fall asleep w-without…you…next to me, Akane."

She turned towards him with angry eyes. "You don't need me, remember? I mean nothing to you!"

He held his grip tighter, at which Akane tried to pull away from him. "Akane, I didn't say that—"

"You meant it! If you can't even trust me enough to tell me what's bothering you, or why you were crying alone in the dojo, then what's the point of even being married?" She successfully pulled away and went towards the door of their room to leave. "If you can't trust your wife, and you don't need her, then divorce me, Ranma Saot—"

Ranma snapped. He wouldn't hear that. Couldn't. The thought of divorce never once entered his mind. To hear her ask for it…

…Ranma couldn't take it.

He tackled her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, then roughly threw her to the bed. She let out a yell of surprise, before he climbed on top of her, laying on her like a blanket, feet against her feet, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, and his head buried in her hair beside her face.

Akane felt his body shake.

The ire replaced with worry, and she whispered questioningly: "Ranma?"

After controlling his gasps, he began to speak, his voice muffled by her hair and the pillow he decided to bury his face into.

"Mother didn't want me," he started carefully. He took an intake of air. "why did I ever believe that you would?"

"Ranma?"

"You really want a divorce, don'tcha, 'Kane?" he said.

Why wouldn't you? I'm a man who's not a man half of the time, I'm a freak, I ain't all that smart and don't bring in much money. If my own mother doesn't want me, I know you wouldn't either.

"No, Ranma, I—"

"You said!"

"I didn't mean it. I was angry. And I was worried." Then, a change in voice: "And whose fault do you think it was anyway? You yelled at me, and said that you didn't need me! How is any wife supposed to feel?!"

"I—I'm sorry," Ranma whispered. "Didn't mean it."

Then, he felt it.

A small, light kiss on the hair behind his ear. He stopped all of his shaking, all of his uncontrolled breathing, to open his eyes wide against the pillow, and to stiffen his entire body in surprise. Every action Akane took had him under her control.

"Ranma," she called out gently. "Why would you ever think that I didn't want you? I'm married to you, baka. Your mother, she does love you. She just is having a hard time understanding your situation. Give her some time."

Ranma only listened, giving no quips, desperately clinging onto her words.

"She loves you." Akane repeated, nuzzling her nose against his hair. "And I love you. You know that, don't you? That's why I'm so worried about you. I only want to help make you happy."

He faced her. Finally. He stared at her for a long while before answering. How do you make me feel loved with just words?

"I'm only happy when I'm with you, 'Kane." He stopped at her smile. Ranma wanted to say those three important words, just as Akane had so easily done. He needed to prove to her, even in the smallest moments, how lost he would be without her. That he loved her too. "And I…I—I. Ugh."

Akane giggled at his attempt, as she always did. "It's okay." Another assuring kiss, this time to his nose. "Don't hurt yourself. And don't say it until you are ready."

"But I want to say it…I just can't."

"It's okay."

He leaned down to look at her. Why are you so understanding, so perfect, at the best times that I need you to be?

"I do, though. A lot." Ranma whispered. I love you a lot. It was his turn to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I do too. And so does your mother. Give her time."

He sighed, then pressed his face to her pillow again. "Yeah."

Ranma pulled away, and found his spot beside Akane on the bed. He wrapped his arms around his wife, allowing sleep to take over. In Akane's imperfection, there was perfection. He wouldn't have it any other way. With her insight to him, it was as though Akane knew him better than he did.

He wondered if, with as much as she was giving into this marriage, was he doing nearly enough in return?

"You've asked me if…if I'm happy." He wondered aloud, without thinking.

He began to twiddle his thumbs over his face nervously. "Are you—are you, I mean…h-happy? With me?"

"Or course I am, Ranma." She hummed back, lulling to sleep. "I need only you to be happy."

He smiled in the darkness. Akane must be really tired to allow that uncharacteristically romantic statement. He turned to her to see her snoring fast asleep.

Her needs and mine.

….-….-….

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this. I'll add a second part to "Follow the Ten Foot Footprints" a bit later. I needed to write something in the meantime and came up with this.

-BQnSI