A/N: Aaack! Sorry for the long wait. I ... wanted this chapter to be perfect, but ... instead, it's this. ::hiding::
"Oooh, so close!" Ni tossed the game controller onto the lab bench next to his perching bunny slippers and adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose. "Weren't we close, Bunny-chan?" He jiggled the stuffed animal caught in the crook of his arm and grinned at it before spinning away from the glowing monitor screen.
His bunny slippers flapped incongruously as he shuffled through the darkened lab to hover behind the frowning Hwan. He slung a free arm around one of her shoulders and leaned his chin on the other. "Good work, Hwan-chan." When she didn't respond and continued to take notes on her clipboard, his arm slid lower and squeezed one of her cheeks through the white lab coat, causing her to stiffen and spin around.
"Y003 was very entertaining. Our prey escaped, of course, but it would be boring if it didn't, wouldn't it?"
Hwan had backed herself up against one of the containment chambers and was hugging her clipboard defensively against her chest. The chamber's greenish glow reflected off Ni's glasses, making it impossible to see the creepy bastard's eyes at all. He genius was indisputable, but so was his unpredictable, sociopathic nature.
A limp cigarette dangled between smirking lips. "I particularly liked those human rifles," Ni admitted as he tapped on Dokugakuji's tank, ignoring his assistant's angry scowl. "Delightfully effective, aren't they? Maybe I should have Y003 bring one back for me." He hummed off-key and scratched at his perpetual stubble as he wandered off to another lab bench, pausing to poke idly at a row of test tubes.
"But first," he announced, "I think we should start mass production of the Y003 model. The second hybridization with Kou-chan's sample seems to be much more stable." He hopped up onto a nearby stool and stared straight at Hwan, who had almost relaxed but now froze again. "Have a D002 model fetch one of the broken soldiers back for testing, though, just to be sure." He grinned insincerely and hopped down off the stool.
Twirling a scalpel idly, he thunked it experimentally into the draped corpse laid out on a metal cart against the far wall. "Mmm, a bit off," he announced petulantly. Yanking the offending scalpel back out, he stared at it a moment before tossing it back on the lab bench. Hwan leapt to prevent it from colliding with her carefully labeled test tubes. Catching it neatly, she placed it primly back in its case and straightened it against the corner of the lab bench.
"But what if Y003 starts asserting undesirable personality traits, like Y002?" she asked pointedly. Really, for a scientist, Dr. Ni was terribly arbitrary and sloppy. "The venom may have stabilized, but we still have no proof the conditioning—"
An abrupt series of thumps on the lab door cut her off. She compressed her lips together into a thin, disapproving line, and, when Ni made no move to answer the door, she huffed and, hating herself, shuffled over to see what the irritating barbarians wanted now.
A smirking youkai coughed pointedly when the heavy metal lab door slid open. "Lookin' good, sister," he commented, his disgusting tongue hanging half out of his mouth.
Her eyebrows rose. Here, at least, she could exert some authority. "I'm busy," she announced coldly and reached out to press the button that would reseal the lab.
The youkai frowned, his pointed ears twitching. He stuck a foot in the door and leaned in closer. Hwan's mouth twitched briefly as she considered closing the door anyway. "I've got a message," he growled menacingly, his pride wounded, "from her ladyship." He emphasized the last bit to knock the icy human bitch down a notch or two and remind her who, exactly, was in charge here.
Hwan pinched her nose pointedly and twitched her head toward Ni, who was once again fiddling with the game controller. The youkai slipped past her, sneering, and announced, loudly, that Gyokumen Koushu wanted to see him in her chambers NOW. Ni smiled expansively and followed the youkai out docilely. Hwan shivered in revulsion as Ni tapped her on the shoulder as he passed. "Never question your superiors, Hwan-chan," he whispered. With a parting grin, he was gone, and the lab doors swished shut.
Seething with frustration, Hwan seized one of her ridiculous high heels and hurled it at the door's smooth, metallic surface.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Oh, not a-fucking-gain. Gojyo felt that, really, he was thoroughly sick of caves and pits and not being able to see where the hell he was going. On some cosmic level, it was freaking hysterical, but Gojyo was so covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts that he couldn't quite appreciate it just then. Somehow, he'd pissed off some bodhisattva or other, and karma had decided to gang-bang him. Maybe he'd slept with her and forgotten to call. The thought made him snort, and a wry smile stretched across his face.
Grunting softly as he repositioned himself to start the long, treacherous climb back up the tunnel from hell, he heard an ominous rumbling overhead that actually drowned out the sound of gunfire. Oh, shit! Gojyo scooted as far out of the way as he could, his rebroken leg screaming in protest as it was dragged along with him. Whatever the hell that sound was, it did not bode well.
Panting and wincing, his knees gingerly hugged to his chest, Gojyo prepared to be buried alive. After all, the dimensions of the shithole he'd fallen into roughly approximated that of the interior of the jeep, and that got claustrophobic enough, even with the scenery and the open top.
The rumbling built to a dull roar, and was accompanied by some splashing sounds, but, eventually, it tapered off. Cautiously, Gojyo dragged himself away from the wall to investigate his options. Well, he was still alive. That was something. The air was even staler than it had been before, but he could still breathe, and the splashing sounds might actually be a good sign. At least he wouldn't die of thirst. Probably.
As his hands blindly scrabbled over the piles of rock, they suddenly connected with something that had a decidedly different texture. He shivered and grabbed at it with both hands. Oh, yeah. He'd recognize that leather anywhere.
"Sanzo!" He tore at the rocks, shoving them away and tugging on the unmoving body buried beneath them. "Sanzo, you little shit, I know you can hear me!"
Dammit! He was furious with Sanzo for ignoring him and being so damn pushy, but who would have guessed the stupid bastard would dive right into this hellhole after him.
Finally, he managed to yank the priest's shoulders up a couple of inches, but he heard a solid thunk that was probably Sanzo's head hitting something. "Shit, he's gonna kill me for that!"
Grumbling, Gojyo leaned over farther, blood sliding down his leg as it twisted at an even more painful angle, and discovered the source of the splashing sound. There appeared to be a second, flooded, mine shaft opposite the first, and Sanzo, in his infinite wisdom, had managed to get his head wedged in it. Great. Way to drown yourself, stupid bastard.
He managed to twist the priest's head out of the sloping shaft and confirm that he was still breathing, but it took several painful, awkward, and uncomfortable minutes of shifting rocks to free the rest of the man's twisted and tangled limbs and lay him out more-or-less lengthwise in their cramped, rocky prison.
A cursory examination of the shaft they'd fallen down proved disheartening. It appeared to be completely closed off. At that point, Gojyo was exhausted and shivering. The sweat he'd worked up while shifting the priest around was cooling rapidly, and the air was heavy, cold, and damp.
Gasping for air, Gojyo wondered why his head was pounding so viciously. Possibly it was jealous of the attention his leg was receiving. He gingerly lowered himself onto the cave floor, positioning himself so he was lying next to the priest.
After shifting uncomfortably for a couple of minutes, his body wracked with cold, he draped himself along the murmuring priest's side. "Sorry, man," he mumbled as he slung his trembling arm over the leather-clad chest and rested his throbbing head on the uninjured shoulder. He knew he had to stay alert, that he should be looking for a way out, but he was tired, so very tired, and Sanzo was warm.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
He was having one of those dreams. It seemed so real, somehow, but then they always did until he started to regain consciousness. Then they just seemed sordid and wrong, obviously an unpleasant byproduct of the necessary loss of control required for sleep. He knew he was coming around because he could feel throbbing in his head and shoulder and hard edges digging into his spine, but the fantasy was stubbornly refusing to dissipate. Squeezing his eyes shut and turning, irrationally, toward the imagined warmth, Sanzo savored the shreds of the dream, wondering if he could hold onto it a little bit longer.
The weight of an arm slung over his waist was strangely comforting. But that was okay because this was a dream, after all. This wasn't real. When the arm slid jerkily higher and brushed clumsily through his hair, Sanzo stiffened briefly but allowed it. He felt peculiarly warm and safe. He hadn't felt this safe since ... Wait. Something was touching his face. Sanzo's eyes flew open, but the darkness was still absolute.
In that moment of confusion and disorientation, he felt a pair of lips brush his forehead and murmur, "Shhh, 's okay, Sanzo, 's okay." The voice sounded rough and distorted, but it was devastatingly familiar. Was he still asleep after all? The hand in his hair stroked it again absentmindedly before sliding back down to his waist, where it hung casually and loosely, as if it belonged there.
After an interminable stretch of indecision, Sanzo finally rolled away from the distracting, warm breaths assaulting his stiff neck and stared upward into the blackness. The offending arm was now resting docilely on his tense torso, but he barely registered it. Memories were rushing back to him and overlapping with the wispy remnants of his dream, making it hard to disentangle the two. He remembered being shot at and ducking into a side corridor, and then ... and then it got a bit fuzzy, but he was fairly sure he'd fallen and hit his head. Obviously.
And now, apparently, he was entombed with the subject of his wayward dream. What a nightmare. After lying rigidly still for a few more minutes, Sanzo carefully but firmly removed Gojyo's arm and began shifting around cautiously to explore the discouraging confines of their prison. When he'd surveyed the entire area twice, Sanzo finally felt the last of the heat leave his face and decided it was high time for the damn kappa to get the hell up and help, instead of snoring and groping innocent bystanders.
Crawling awkwardly back to Gojyo's head, he felt his way to the bastard's shoulder and shook it roughly. The kappa mumbled incoherently but remained stubbornly immobile. The urge to run away shivered in the recesses of his consciousness, but it was smothered by an annoying blanket of calm. First of all, he couldn't run, but then again, a traitorous thought suggested, maybe he didn't need to either.
Shoving harder, Sanzo growled, "Wake UP, Gojyo!" His head was aching, his shoulder was throbbing, and his throat felt unnaturally tight. They didn't have time for the cockroach to get his beauty sleep.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Goku stirred restlessly in his sleep, conking his head firmly against the wooden interior of his hollowed-out refuge. Blinking his heavy eyes open in confusion, he realized that he was curled up inside the trunk of a tree. Alone.
Scowling slightly in disappointment, Goku stretched out his limbs. They still felt a bit stiff, but nothing seemed to be permanently damaged. His stomach was still sore and tender, and EMPTY, but at least the gash had sealed shut.
Yawning expansively in the early morning light, Goku slid clumsily out of the tree. He remembered his feverish search for Sanzo the night before, but, even though he was sure he'd been heading in the right direction, he'd never found any sign of the priest, and eventually he'd had to give up because he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
Trudging over toward a convenient rock, Goku noticed several shining silver strands hanging ominously from tree branches ringing the clearing. An angry shiver ran down his spine as he conjured his nyoi-bou and spun around slowly, trying to pick out any movement in the trees. A flash of white in his peripheral vision caused him to swing his weapon high as he turned to face the intruder.
White wings flapped accusingly. "Kyuuuuu!" Bright red eyes stared back at him pathetically from their perch on the end of his nyoi-bou.
Grinning with relief, Goku stowed his weapon and seized the hapless dragon with both arms, pinning it to his chest. "Hakuryu! Boy am I glad to see you, buddy!"
Hakuryu licked his face enthusiastically, and he squeezed the dragon even tighter. Squeaking in protest, the small dragon dug its claws warningly into Goku's shirt. Loosening his grip reluctantly, he ruffled the white head affectionately. "Sorry, sorry. It's just ... if you're here, then that means Sanzo's here too. He can't leave without you, Hakuryu. That's how awesome you are, y'know?" Unexpected tears were leaking out of his eyes. He swiped them away. "So, where is everyone?" he asked as he started pacing around the clearing, searching for clues.
Hakuryu kyuuued plaintively and wrapped itself possessively around his neck. Goku reached up to rub the dragon's head. "Okay, buddy. Don't worry. We'll find 'em." Hakuryu nudged his ear and hummed approvingly.
As Goku dragged his feet through the sludge, he felt his right foot collide with something odd and heard a strange rustling sound. Leaning over to check on it, he dragged a slimy foil packet out of the sludge. Curious, he tore it open. Eyeing it suspiciously, he tilted his head on the side to get a better look. It didn't look dangerous. Kind of boring, but not dangerous. Hakuryu's head snaked around and disappeared inside the packet.
"Hey! I found it first!" Goku complained, dragging the dragon out by its neck. It was already crunching on something it had found inside.
"Meanie!" Goku pouted, tucking the packet protectively under his arm. He stared at the content dragon for a full minute, trying to figure out whether it had been poisoned or not, before he tipped the whole bag into his mouth at once and started chewing.
"Mmmm ... 'ot bad," he managed after a couple of minutes. Some of it tasted kinda fruity, and there seemed to be some nuts, but he honestly didn't care as long as it was food. Hakuryu was vibrating and hissing, nose bumping Goku's and eyes blazing. "Oh, schorry," he mumbled around a mouthful. Opening the packet again, he stared forlornly at the one remaining brown flake. The dragon's head snaked out and devoured it instantly, and then the bag really was empty.
"Awwww man, I'm still hungry," Goku moaned, clutching his stomach. "C'mon, Jeep, let's go find Sanzo. He'll feed us."
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Gojyo bit his lip as Sanzo bound up his right leg. Their attempts to clear out the upper shaft had proven singularly futile, and, after a particularly spirited attempt had very nearly buried them under a pile of debris, Sanzo had finally grudgingly admitted it. And Gojyo, for his part, had manfully refrained from pointing out whose bloody fault it was they were stuck down here in the first place. At least the minor landslide they'd unleashed had unearthed the priest's beloved pea-shooter.
"Well, I guess that pretty much leaves the flooded shaft," Gojyo gasped between grimaces. The nap earlier had helped his leg some, but it hadn't been splinted, and his sleep had hardly been restful, between the crappy conditions and a priest who moaned and twitched in his sleep.
Sanzo grunted noncommittally as he continued to wrap. The poor bastard would never be able to wear that robe again. Its sleeves had, once again, been torn into strips to make bindings, and, between tying up Sanzo's shoulder and Gojyo's leg, the sleeves must be nonexistent by now.
"I'll admit it's not very promising, but we're kinda out of options," Gojyo continued. Sanzo tugged hard on the bindings, causing Gojyo to yelp, then, mercifully, backed off after tying the last knot.
Dragging himself over to the second shaft, Gojyo grunted, "So I'm gonna go check it out." The water was probably cold as hell, but he figured he was better equipped for this sort of thing than priesty boy. Swimming was sort of his area and all. Gojyo shuddered and prepared to submerge, but a warm hand suddenly landed on his back, anchoring him in place.
"Don't screw around. I expect you back in under an hour. Got that?" The rough voice next to him sounded a bit strained.
Gojyo smiled. "Roger that, Sanzo-sama." The hand on his back tightened, pulling briefly on his baggy uniform, and then withdrew. Drawing in as much air as he could hold, the redhead slid head-first down the shaft, the freezing water closing in all around him. There was an odd warm spot on his back, though, that kept him focused.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
After the kappa left, Sanzo slumped back against the cave wall, his eyes closed, his knees bent, and his arms cradled loosely in his lap. Conserving his strength now would inevitably pay off later.
Eventually, he lost track of time, and he might even have nodded off at some point, but suddenly he was acutely aware of the fact that he was sore, shivering, and shifting uncomfortably against the rocks. The silence in the cave was suffocating, and the cold was seeping into his bones. That, at least, was easily fixed, and it had nothing at all to do with the fact that the loud, irreverent cockroach was gone. Irritably, Sanzo slid back into the upper half of his robe. His shoulders were protected now, but, of course, his fingers were still uncovered. Damn roach. This was all his fault.
Glowering fiercely, Sanzo wrapped his arms tightly across his chest. Inaction was really only tolerable when hot tea and a pack of Marlboro reds were available. Tea was clearly beyond his reach at this point, but cigarettes were a different story. Smoking was unwise when their oxygen supply was limited, but he figured it would only really use up the kappa's share anyway, and the bastard was late, so he fished out his lighter and a thoroughly smashed packet.
Gojyo would either come back ... or he wouldn't.
ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooo
Panting and wheezing, Gojyo pulled himself the remaining few inches up the sloping shaft and called out, "Sanzo, you there?" He sure as hell hoped this was the right cubbyhole, because he was worn out and really didn't think he could manage another search.
A strong hand materialized around his arm and dragged him the rest of the way back into the familiar enclosed space. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be? You're late!"
The water sprite laughed weakly, face-down on the rocks. "Yeah? How can you tell? You got a watch with," cough, "glow-in-the-dark hands?" He coughed again and spat out some of the silt he'd swallowed along with the water.
"Did you find a way out?" Trust Sanzo to come right to the point. Gojyo could sense his presence hovering over him.
"Yes, sir, fearless leader, sir," Gojyo groaned, shivering, and twisted, his hand dripping, so he could pull the warm priest down on top of him. The rough, scratchy robes weren't nearly as satisfying as the feel of sleek leather, but the man was like a furnace, and, bizarrely, wasn't actually resisting. After a moment, a hesitant hand reached out and awkwardly dragged his hair out of his face, then swiftly pulled away, as if burned. Gojyo closed his eyes and just relaxed, catching his breath and savoring the feeling of heat that was seeping through him.
Later, when the trembling in Gojyo's body had subsided, his loose arms slid off the blond's back as Sanzo pulled away. Gojyo frowned in protest, but he didn't resist.
"We should move."
"Uh-huh." Gojyo sniffled. Damn. His nose was running. He swiped at it irritably with his sleeves and pushed himself up on his hands. What? It's not like he had tissues. "It took a while, but I think I've found the shortest route to the surface." He hesitated.
"And?" Sanzo prompted. He sounded tense, uneasy, as if he knew there was a catch to this that he definitely was not going to like.
"And," Gojyo continued, awkwardly brushing rock fragments off his back one-handed, "it's gonna take us about five minutes to get there." Leaning forward, Gojyo started stretching out his leg and back muscles. The last thing he wanted was to cramp up. Glancing up as he touched his toes, his youkai heritage more useful than it'd been in years, he stared, concerned, at Sanzo's vague outline. "How's your swimming, Sanzo?"
"Absolute shit," the priest ground out. The guy's bloody arms were crossed, and his hands kept twitching. Oh, yeah. Scared as hell.
Gojyo sighed and started stretching his arms. "I have a plan."
Five minutes later, Sanzo's arms were still crossed. "No. Absolutely not. Not gonna happen."
Crawling forward awkwardly, dragging his blasted gimpy right leg behind him, Gojyo cut off Sanzo's escape routes and leaned deep into defensive territory, resting his damp forehead lightly against the priest's, willing him to understand. "Look, it's the only plan we've got, and I sure as hell don't wanna stay here." After a short silence, in which Sanzo did not move at all, Gojyo continued. "I need you to trust me, here. It's gonna be fine. We can do this." I hope.
An arm shot out and pushed Gojyo away. He sprawled awkwardly against the wall, wincing.
"Fine. We'll do it your way," the priest's hoarse voice ground out, "but if you fuck this up, in any way at all, I will personally ventilate more than just your hot head. Got it!?"
Gojyo could feel cold steel pressing against his temple. Who ever said bearding the lion in its den wasn't effective? He grinned grimly and swiped hair out of his face, brushing the pistol away in the process. Like hell he'd let the prickly bastard get hurt. Why did His Holiness think he'd spent forever mapping out all the connecting passageways? For fun? That water was fucking cold. Gojyo nodded, then remembered that Sanzo couldn't see it. "Fair enough," he grunted, staring intently at the outline hovering over him.
It took a bit more negotiating, involving some more half-hearted shoving and ranting, but Gojyo managed to coax His Highness out of his robe. The extra weight would just drag them down, and, with their luck, if he left it on, it'd get caught on something and slow them down even more. Scripture and pistol safely stowed in the appropriate jeans pockets, Gojyo proceeded to explain the best way to store the most air and make it last.
Eventually, Sanzo lost patience entirely. "Look," he growled, "either we leave now, or I'm leaving you here."
The anticipation must be killing him. Gojyo sighed heavily and handed Sanzo the priest's black sash. He still hadn't described their chosen path, but, given the current plan, if Sanzo didn't make it, neither would Gojyo, so it was probably best for them to simply leave now, before Sanzo lost his nerve.
The tying process was awkward, mostly because each of them was acutely aware of how close the other was. Kneeling uncomfortably in the cramped, littered space, Gojyo could feel the priest's hips digging into him from behind and hands around his waist, wrapping the ends of the sash. It's just a glorified piggyback ride, he kept reminding himself. That's all. Don't think about it. Just don't even go there. He'd totally kill you. But Gojyo couldn't help thinking about it, and his mind insisted on going there, so his breathing was a bit shallower than it probably should have been, even though his hands were determinedly pressed against the rock in front of him. Sanzo's hands were unnervingly firm and steady as they worked, and not a word passed between them until those hands stilled, finishing the last knot.
Gojyo waited another couple of seconds before double-checking the knots, then he awkwardly maneuvered them so he was lying on his stomach, ready to propel them down the tunnel. "All ready back there, Sanzo-chan?" Gojyo asked with forced lightness. Damn, he hoped none of the tunnels were too tight for this, or he'd have to reroute. It was hard to judge that sort of thing without some kind of reference, and he'd never done this before. Any of it.
"I've been ready. You're the one who's stalling!" It was distracting, really, when he could feel the low growl dislodging hairs on the back of his neck. Gojyo shivered. Damn it sucked, pining after a gruff, prickly, magnetic bombshell. It was humiliating, like being the bug that can't help being drawn to the candle's flame. That was just stupid, and Gojyo was not stupid, except that he totally was. He couldn't leave His Holiness, even if he had to. He'd tried that once, and it had failed spectacularly. Gojyo forced himself to relax and concentrate. Now was not the time.
"Are we going or not!?"
When he felt Sanzo thump him impatiently on the shoulder, a decidedly flustered and frustrated Gojyo called back, "We're going in." He paused just long enough to make sure Sanzo had taken a deep breath, then launched them both down the chute, gulping his own stash of air just before they submerged.
The intense cold of the water shocked him, even though he knew to expect it. His eyes strained as he concentrated on enhancing his youkai night vision. It was exhausting to use it for extended periods of time—he was only half-youkai, after all—but he'd need it to guide them through the twists and turns as the passages branched out, changed altitude, and intersected.
When the tunnel widened enough, Gojyo's arms darted out and began slicing through the icy water, dragging them forward as fast as he could manage with the extra weight, the extra drag of his fragile cargo. His legs were pretty much useless, with one leg broken, but he could more than manage with his arms, he hoped.
Several turns later, as he slowed to scrutinize the wavering outlines of their options, Gojyo felt his lungs straining with the need for oxygen. It was getting hard to concentrate. He knew he was taking too long, but he didn't recognize any of them, and his night vision was fading. Closing his eyes so he could focus inward, Gojyo forced himself to concentrate on manifesting gills. They would chew up his energy reserves even faster, but he needed oxygen, dammit, or he couldn't think, and then they really would be hosed.
After a brief but violent burst of willpower, he felt his neck reluctantly change shape. Sagging with relief, he reopened his eyes. After a couple of seconds, his eyes cleared again, and he thought he recognized the tunnel with the squarish edges. Darting into it, he felt something catch, holding him back. Carefully, reining in his panic and frustration, he backed up and turned sideways before trying again. This time they both fit. When had Sanzo's arms clasped around his chest? It didn't interfere with his breathing, and it made for a more compact profile. Gojyo ignored it and plunged down the tunnel as fast as his arms could propel them, sometimes using handy rock outcroppings for added speed. They were gonna make it.
Two wrong turns later, which had unexpectedly added up to put them back on course, Gojyo could finally see a glimmering of light up ahead. They'd reached the entrance to the sinkhole, their connection to the outside world. It was probably the closest he'd ever get to a religious experience, really. And, if he hadn't been so exhausted by the last stretch of uphill swimming, he might've actually smiled.
As it was, he was having trouble focusing on anything at all, other than moving forward, but he dimly registered that Sanzo's arms around his chest had loosened enough that they were now floating free. That bothered him for some reason, but his mind was so numb, so narrowly focused on the impossible task of forcing his leaden arms to keep dragging through the water, that he couldn't really pinpoint why.
The water, at least, was warmer as they labored upward toward the light. After catching sight of the tantalizing surface, every moment spent underwater seemed interminable, and Gojyo could already feel his gills collapsing in on themselves, sliding back into his normal human form. He clamped his open mouth shut and forced his aching arms to dig through the sludge and slime bordering the edge of the sinkhole.
His head surfaced briefly several times as he struggled to find something, anything that could provide support, his limbs straining to lift and propel two exhausted bodies. After a confused argument with a tangle of water plants, he could finally feel (relatively) solid ground under his trembling fingers, and he managed, after a couple of failed attempts, to heave them both up onto a projecting tangle of tree roots. Oh, man, that had sucked.
Gojyo was gasping and choking, his body draped haphazardly across the friendly twists of wood, but his fingers were already fumbling at the knots at his side that were keeping Sanzo affixed to his back. The silence from the priest was deafening. After a few seconds of manic plucking at the frozen, welded knots, Gojyo dug into his boot and yanked out the hunting knife. He sliced himself, again, blood welling up from the gash on his forefinger, but he managed to remove the sash.
Catching the priest's sliding form was a bit tricky, but Gojyo managed it. Barely. Sanzo's lips were blue, and his eyes were shut.
"Shiiiiiit." His head was spinning. Damn. Ummm. CPR. PCR? He blinked his eyes a couple of times and shook his head. He thought he'd seen someone do it in a bar once. Sliding his hair out of his face with one hand, he managed to brace himself so he could hover over the priest's still form.
"Here goes nothing," he panted, then leaned over and clumsily attempted to breathe into the priest's cold mouth a couple of times. When that got no response, he started shoving, hard, against the priest's leather-clad chest. Come on, dammit. Move! On the third or fourth repetition, Gojyo couldn't focus enough to actually count, he thought he saw Sanzo's chest heave.
Fear and hope tangled together and knotted Gojyo's throat closed as he leaned over to breathe into the priest's mouth again. He managed one more shaky breath before vivid violet eyes shot wide open and a hand rose to shove him weakly away. Sanzo's head rolled to the side as he spat, gasped, and wheezed, his whole body spasming.
When the priest turned back over, blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were closed, but his chest was rising and falling in a relatively well-defined pattern. Gojyo sighed in relief and collapsed face-down next to him on the tree roots. "Damn, you scared me, there. I thought—"
But what Gojyo thought was cut off by a damp hand landing heavily on his neck. He jerked his head around toward Sanzo in concern, his brow furrowed, and felt a hard nose and cold lips mash up against his own. Gojyo's eyes bulged open, disbelief written all over his face as he stared numbly at the dripping, clinging blond hair. His right leg was twisted painfully under him, and he was clutching a handful of rough, slimy bark to keep from slipping back into the sinkhole. Maybe he had drowned, because this could not possibly be happening.
But, just as suddenly as the lips had assaulted him, they retreated. Sanzo's eyes were closed, and he was frowning. "Shut the," cough, "hell up," he wheezed. "'S your fault. You ..." hack, "took too damn ... long."
"Wh-what the!?" Gojyo spluttered, his hand rising numbly to touch his lips. He hadn't imagined that, right? Right? He stared uncertainly at the coughing priest, wondering whether discretion might not be the better part of valor. Some small part of his pride was deeply wounded, though. He'd never encountered anyone before who'd kissed him and then hacked up a lung afterward.