Title: The Hollow Place

Fandom: Beyblade

Pairing: Tyson/Kai

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: shounen-ai, violence, blah. the usual.

Disclaimer: Beyblade and all associated terms, characters, etc. are not mine. no money is being made off this fic.

Length: 6 400

Note: if the style fluctuates wildly from chapter to chapter, it's mostly because some bits were written when i was fifteen, and others when i was seventeen. the fact that i faint dead away at the mere notion of editing might also be at least partially to blame. my apologies.


They were in the park. It was a bright morning, even though the wind was chilly. Hilary was swinging slowly back and forth on the swing set, her feet trailing along the ground. From far away, the wail of an ambulance echoed through the streets, and she winced as she heard it, hunching up tightly until it had faded.

Eventually she said, "Hey, so, um…have you guys spoken to Kai today?" She didn't say yet or recently or anything that would refer to what had happened eight days ago, because there was already a kind of self-defensive denial knitting itself together around the group of friends: a bone-cage of silence that was the only thing holding them up, the only thing keeping them from imploding.

"I've called him loads of times but he's not answering," Kenny said. He didn't take his eyes off his laptop's screen. Even that one sentence was practically a speech for him by his current standards. He had been entirely silent for the first two days, and then after that had spoken only a few tiny words every now and then.

"I went to his apartment yesterday," Max said, "and I think he was there, but he didn't answer the door or anything. Same old Kai," he added, grinning as though were making a joke. "Never talks to anyone!"

After an uncomfortable silence, Ray said, in a low, angry voice, "He blames himself."

"He shouldn't," Max answered in the same tone, all pretences of joking gone. "He's being selfish. He's so possessive about Tyson."

Hilary winced again at the name, but kept her eyes on the ground. "That's kinda mean, Maxie," she said, neutrally.

"I was there too, wasn't I?" Max asked. "If it's his fault then it's mine, too. He has – no right to try and blame it all on himself."

"I don't understand you," Hilary sighed, trying to smile. "You boys are all crazy."

"Look, I'm just – I'm worried about Kai, OK?"

"We all are," Ray said. "I think – I think the first thing we need to do today is get him to talk to us. I haven't seen him since we were at the police station. At least Daichi's OK, but Kai –"

"Daichi's so brave," Hilary murmured softly. "He promised Gramps he'd do all Tyson's chores at the dojo. That dumb kid…" She shivered in the wind.

"– Kai is another story. You know him. Tyson's the only one who can even get him to act human most of the time. Without him – I mean…" Ray faltered, and then he stood up, his mouth set grimly. "How about we go check in on him right now?"

"And if he doesn't want to listen to us, I know how to make him," Kenny said, softly. Ray turned to him, and Max sat up from where he had been lolling on the ground. Kenny continued, blinking rapidly, his eyes still fixed on his laptop, his cheeks flushed pink at all the sudden attention: "The police couldn't track those darts, but I could. A couple years back Emily met a girl from Russia at some sports camp or something, and this girl – her dad's a defence attorney. Emily was telling me that he'd been involved in one of the cases against Voltaire, so I e-mailed her yesterday, and she got in touch with her friend again, and, well – OK, long story short, you guys – some of the evidence used against Voltaire involved the kinds of sedatives they were using on the kids at the Abbey, because technically speaking they were illegal. Maxie, you remember how you felt so bad after you woke up? You were pretty lucky; the side-effects of large doses can get really extreme. Brain damage, tissue damage, internal bleeding…"

"Chief?" Ray said, gently. "I really hope you're not gonna say what I think you're gonna say."

"I think I am," Kenny said, his voice growing even quieter. "I hacked the district forensics lab's computer; whoever took Tyson was using the same sedatives the Abbey used to. And I know that's not much to go on, but there's more, and, well, it gets a lot worse."

"Tell us," Ray said, still speaking very gently, although his shoulders were slumped and he was clenching his teeth dangerously.

Kenny swallowed hard. "Way back, just after the whole Black Dranzer fiasco, I hacked the BioVolt computers. By the time I got in Voltaire had already been arrested, and I guess that the guys at BioVolt were trying to destroy all the Abbey's records in case they could be used as evidence, because a lot of the data was corrupted, but – I found plans. They were just drafts, basically, and a couple of weight ratios - diagrams for the construction of Beyblades. Black Dragoon. Black Draceil. Black Driger. I – well, after that, I always figured that if BioVolt were to somehow get a kick-start again, we'd be the first people they came after."

"Oh, man," Max said. "I mean, I knew Boris was still out there, but after the whole BEGA thing I thought he'd given up."

"Boris?" Hilary whispered. "Chief, you need to tell Mr Dickinson. The police – this could help them."

"I e-mailed Mr Dickinson yesterday," Kenny said, blankly. "He passed the information on. But – it's nothing new, you know. Apparently Boris has been suspected of a couple of other kidnappings – also bladers, not as prominent or as powerful as Tyson, but still pretty famous in their own circles, and really talented. Brooklyn's been missing for a while – they kept it quiet, but it's true. Johnny from the Majestics is gone, too, as well as Oliver. Tyson…Tyson is just the latest victim."

There was a silence. Then Ray said, "If they've developed Black Driger and Black Draceil, why didn't they take Maxie? Why didn't they come after me?"

"Black Dragoon was the only one they'd really designed prototypes for," Kenny explained. "The other two were just theoretical. If they've managed to successfully create any of them by now, it'll be Black Dragoon. It was the closest to completion back then."

"But don't you guys see? This is good!" Max said, excitedly, getting to his feet. "Now we know Tyson's OK! They obviously took him because they need him to control Black Dragoon! They've gotta be treating him well if he's so important! And plus – now we know who to look for! Alright, Chief! Way to use your head!"

"It's just a start, Max," Kenny said, looking very small. "Oh…I shouldn't have told you. Now you're all happy, but what if they can't find him? You guys, this is a corporate kidnapping. It was perfectly orchestrated, perfectly executed. Boris knows what he's doing. You mustn't – you mustn't think that this means that anything good is going to happen. We still have nothing."

"You don't have to talk like that," Max insisted. "Come on, we gotta tell Kai." He looked to Ray. "Come on. We need to visit him anyway."

Ray gave a soft sigh, nodded tiredly. "Alright," he said, and then tried to sound more optimistic. "Let's go cheer up Kai." He grinned lamely. "If it's even possible for the guy to be cheerful."

"Sure it is," Hilary said, with a scared, crooked smile. "Miracles happen."

Kenny said nothing.


Kai was sitting in a corner.

His head was ringing, and his lungs felt rather as though someone had filled them with a nasty mixture of sand and broken glass. He hadn't slept in nearly thirty-two hours, and hadn't eaten for longer, but he wasn't thinking about that kind of thing. He had reached a kind of deadlock; his programming seemed to have jammed. When someone took something from you, you went and you got it back – but that didn't work now, because he didn't know where to look. It was like a missing rung on a ladder, it was like –

- like years ago, when he had first met Tyson, when he had suddenly realised that something was missing deep down inside himself. Tyson had made him see things so clearly, and suddenly all he had needed was to be like him, was to be better than him, because somehow Kai had known instinctively that the missing part was in Tyson -

- only this time he didn't know where to look, and this time it wasn't metaphorical: this time something really was missing, and it was the most important thing, the only thing that mattered.

Do you want power, boy?

He should probably go and talk to Kenny.

Tyson would want would him to talk to Kenny. Kenny was probably freaking out, and Tyson wouldn't want that.

If Kai had been braver, he would have gone and talked to Kenny.

Kai wasn't brave. Not in the way that Tyson was brave. Kai wasn't anything compared to Tyson, not anymore.

Do you want that power? That power that will make the world your own? You can make people think what you want them to think, you can prove that you're the best, that you're the strongest…don't you want that?

If this had been one of Daichi and Max's stupid manga series then the hero would already have gone rushing off halfway across the world with a loaded gun and an extremely impractical-looking black cape of some sort. Kai was on the verge of doing that. He was going to do something, no matter what. He just didn't know what to do. He'd packed a suitcase as soon as he had gotten home from the police station, and then after that he hadn't known what to do. It was not enjoyable. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a situation as stupid and frustrating as this. He saw life as a series of clear, powerful equations. He did one thing, and something else happened; and what he did was always right, and what happened was always right. He was never wrong.

Except when Tyson was involved. To continue the metaphor: Tyson, as a variable, tended to mess up the equations a lot.

His vision kept blurring; every so often his thoughts would slide away and go spinning around in a sort of confused mush before his head nodded and jerked him back awake. He really should sleep. There was no reason for him not to sleep. Tyson would be asleep. Any sensible person would be asleep, in fact. Tyson wasn't even a sensible person, and he would still be asleep. Admittedly Tyson did seem to spend an awfully large portion of his time asleep, so maybe he wasn't the best example…

Kai nodded off into blackness again, and then shook himself awake angrily. He wasn't going to sleep. He was going to wait until he received word of Tyson, and then he was going to sleep. Simple.

He should really talk to Kenny, though.

Tyson would want him to talk to Kenny.

Why do you want power? Why do you fight?

I want him. I want him back. He is not supposed to be anywhere without me. I am where he is. How am I supposed to achieve anything without him? I want him back and I am going to get him back.

He had, at some point, given over to the daydreams. They all involved Tyson, who, having just been rescued, would look haggard and weary, but cocky and full of himself as usual. He would embrace Kai, who would be apologising profusely for having let this happen. Tyson would laugh it off, but Kai would proclaim a vow of loyalty, and swear to protect Tyson always, to earn his trust once more…Tyson would reach out (he wouldn't have to reach too far, because they'd already be standing close – cramped together in a police station, perhaps, or at the airport) and stroke Kai's cheek, and smile: crookedly, tiredly, tenderly…

This is pathetic. You are pathetic. You can't do anything. You can't do anything. What use are you?

Why do you fight?

I am strong for him. I am strong because of him. How am I supposed to achieve anything without him?

You will not fail him again.


Mr Dickinson smiled happily and proudly at Tyson and shook his hand. Even though it was such an informal little evening, there were still a lot of reporters there, and they all snapped pictures, the white flashes flickering brightly. The really newsworthy event would take place a month from now when the new BBA offices were finally unveiled, but until then, the world was still hungry for news of Tyson Granger and his team.

Still hidden in the shadows, Kai continued to gaze up at Tyson. The younger boy's smile was huge, lopsided, and he was blushing heavily, laughing in fake full-of-himself modesty, and to Kai – to Kai, Tyson shone. He seemed to draw in the warm golden light of the fires and the lanterns, absorbing all the light in the world and giving it back tenfold. The air around him was thick with radiance, as though his entire body were made of gold and glitter, as though all the boundless power of the universe – galaxies and stars, constellations and planets – had been concentrated into one bright-burning sun.

Something was tugging at Kai's chest, as though he were physically connected to Tyson. Part of it was jealousy, because even now he wanted what Tyson had, because even now he wanted to be the one who was powerful and beloved, but it was only a very small part, and the rest of it was longing. It was an ache that went so deep and bled so heavily that he thought he was going to drown in the flood of burning gold. He couldn't stop watching Tyson, and here in the soft trailing shadows he didn't have to hide the pain, didn't have to look away and pretend that he didn't care. Here he could look up at Tyson, drink in everything about him, and the admiration and the love and the pride welled up inside him until he could barely breathe.

Tyson was starting to walk off the little wooden stage; on the stairs he paused, suddenly, and looked up, his eyes piercing the shadows to meet Kai's gaze. Something between them snapped taut, like a heavy chain suddenly being pulled up into place, and for an instant the longing in Tyson's eyes mirrored Kai's as they faced each other openly, and Kai felt as though he were bleeding out of his body and flowing over into Tyson's - and all Kai wanted was to hold him and kiss him and –

Max pulled Tyson down from the steps, flinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a noogie, and the link was broken as Tyson laughed and pushed Max away; and as Max pushed back and started a mini play-fight, Kai turned and left.


If, he thought, if: if he had run faster, if had managed to get Tyson away quicker…it was going to be his fault when the police phoned and said we regret to tell you this, but…

Except that they weren't going to say that. Tyson would not let himself get killed. Tyson would never give up that easily. Tyson was Tyson: stupid kid was bloody unbeatable. No one was ever going to defeat him, except Kai. Tyson would never give up, never. Tyson was going to come home. It was only a matter of time.

But even so, even so, it was going to be Kai's fault…because he hadn't been quick enough, firm enough, clever enough, good enough; and because Kai couldn't do anything, was sitting here being worthless and pathetic, not even brave enough to go and talk to Kenny…we regret to announce that Kai Hiwatari is responsible for the death of his team mate, Tyson Granger…


He hadn't meant to talk to Tyson – he told himself that he'd been trying to slip away – but before he knew it he was staring into Tyson's face, and the pain in his chest was sharper than anything he'd felt before in his life. Their eyes met, and for a moment everything between them was right out in the open, hanging between them, naked and vulnerable and terrifying.

Kai's hands seemed to lift themselves up of their own accord, gripping Tyson's elbows. He tried to say something, but his throat was aching and stiff, and so instead he wrapped his arms around Tyson's waist and held him solemnly. For a moment Tyson was tense with shock, and then he slowly lifted his arms and returned the embrace. Cameras flashed, taking happy feel-good photos of the two most famous Beybladers in the world, and several people standing nearby cheered; Max's voice could be heard whooping and snickering over all the rest. Kai buried his face in Tyson's shoulder, feeling clumsy and trapped as their hearts bumped together. Then he let go, and turned away without a word.

It had been something for everyone to see: something between friends. And even though it was far too much emotion than one teenage boy would normally show for another, between friends it was alright – between friends it was accepted. To Kai alone had it been more: to Kai, it had been the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. To Tyson it had been something dangerous. The bonds that held them together were so precarious that such an action was a very real threat to their frail, impossible friendship: such a reckless change could shatter everything completely.

They both knew that they were in love, but it was a knowledge that bumped and bobbed underneath the skin like a heartbeat, never breaking through: loud in one's own ears, but inaudible to all others.


There came a knock at the door, and Kai rocked, shaken out of his stupor. His head throbbed and rang. Ray's voice called out, "Kai! We know you're in there, buddy!"

"We brought chips and dip!" Max's voice yelled, cheery and stupid.

"C'mon, Kai! Don't go all broody and anti-social on us now!" That was Hilary, also falsely bright.

Kai briefly considered letting them in. Tyson…Tyson would have gotten so pissed off with him. But Tyson wasn't here, and Kai was too tired and too cold to talk…he felt as though he would have to pull the words right out deep inside himself, and it would be a struggle, and it would hurt. He wasn't, he added scathingly to himself, in the mood for a bunch of idiots.

"OK, that does it!" Max called.

"The landlady gave us a spare key, Kai," Ray said. "We're coming in." A pause. "Everyone's worried about you, man."

Kai still said nothing, but he felt like hitting something. He was flicking through his memories, trying to put words into order again. He fought furiously to remember what you said when you were with people, but he couldn't think of anything, and he wanted to shout with frustration. He was still thinking in Russian; he was trying to switch to Japanese, but it was difficult, because all the words were coming so slowly. He felt so empty and loose, as though he were just an old shivering skeleton, all the bare bones knocking together hollowly. He leaned his head back against the wall and gave up. Pathetic. Tyson wouldn't give up.

Tyson would have been risking his life by now, risking his life to save Kai, to save Kenny, to save Daichi, to save any of his friends if they had been in danger. Tyson would never have given up.

"We're coming in now," Ray repeated, uncertainly. The key clicked, and then the door swung open. Footsteps. The pitying silence. Kai stiffened, furious and bleak.

No one can ever see you weak. No one can ever see you vulenerable. No one can ever see you.

He said, loudly, staring at the ceiling, "I suppose you're all looking for hugs and kisses and a support group. A suggestion? Try Losers Anonymous."

"That's the Kai we know and love!" Max said. "Come on, buddy, we got food!" There was a loud crackle as a foil crisp packet was ripped open. "Mmm! Junk food!"

"Kai, please talk to us," Hilary said, gently, after a long pause.

"You know we're only trying to help," Ray added, a little impatiently.

Another silence.

"You're being pathetic," Hilary snapped, finally. "You think you're the only one upset? Yeah, that's right, act like the grouchy loner again, as usual. You don't ever think of other people, do you? You don't ever think of how we're feeling, huh?"

Kai blinked, and was oddly reminded of Tyson yelling, You don't even care, do you? You don't even realise how important you are to us! Don't you know what it's like watching you turn your back the whole time?

He stood up, shakily. His head pounded horribly and the ringing got louder, then slowly died away. He cleared his throat, and said, "What do you want here?"

"That's much better," Hilary said, a little sniffily.

"We came to say hi!" Max said. "Can't we say hi to our buddy?"

But Kenny pushed forward and said, in a small whisper, "We came to talk about Tyson."

Still steady, still perfectly in control, Kai said, "Have you heard anything?"

"He isn't the only person to have been taken. There have been other kidnappings, too. He's – he's in Russia now. Boris took him."

Black glass ripping his stomach open; dry fire in his lungs. He felt himself blanch, felt himself go cold all over, then hot, like he had a fever or something. Of course. What else?

There was a hand on his shoulder, a soft gentle hand, and Kai looked up in a distraction of fury to see Hilary leaning close to him. "We miss him so much," she said, and her voice was firm and a bit too loud. "I know you miss him too. He'll – sheesh, he's gonna be so mad with you when he hears how upset you've been! And we want to look after you while he's gone, so don't you dare go falling to pieces. We need you. He'd want you to need us."

"I don't need looking after," Kai said, clearly, and stepped away from her. He was on the point of collapsing; he suddenly realised how long it had been since he'd eaten…and Boris. Again. Sometimes he wondered why it was always Boris, why these things kept coming back over and over again. Kai had long since given up on the daydreams of revenge, the violent fantasies, although suddenly he was remembering them all with precise and mechanical clarity. "Has," he said, steady, remote, "has there been a ransom demand yet?"

"No. We think he's being held to test Black Dragoon."

Do you want power, boy?

"The good thing," Ray said, "is that at least we know that he's alive. He's valuable to Boris. He won't be hurt."

"Yes," Kai agreed, curtly, and that was all. "Thank you for telling me. Please go."

"Kai, you look terrible," Ray said, frowning. "We're not about to let you get sick. How long has it been since you slept?"

"I slept last night," Kai lied, tetchily. That was Ray all over, focused, unremitting, never losing his cool. Kai had seen him get violent in the beydish, but never out of it…and Ray didn't understand that the only thing that could ever break through to Kai was Tyson, was Tyson's shouting and determination and power… "Please go away," he said, suddenly. "I don't want you here."

"We have enough to worry about already, you know," Max said. "We need you with us, Kai."

"Go away," Kai said to the floor. "Go away. I don't want you here. Any of you."

Amazingly, they went.

There was a brief noise of whispers, and then shuffling feet, and a banging door.

Kai slid slowly to the floor and wrapped his arms over his head.

He screwed his eyes up tight so that all he could see was a starburst of black, and then he thought. This was good. This was actually very good. He had a goal now. He had something to do. Like a Beybattle: defeat Tyson.

Only now: find Tyson. That was how simple it was. There was nothing else to do. He could not fail; failure was impossible. It was not something that he could allow to happen, because if he failed the consequences would be too terrible to accept.

He'd want you to need us…

No. Not them. He wasn't going to put them in danger. Besides, he could do this by himself. He wasn't going to let Tyson think he was weak, think he was dependant, and he wasn't going to hurt Tyson's friends. Who were his own friends too, really. My friends. I'm not going to hurt my friends.

After a long time, he stood up, surveyed the empty apartment: bleak floor and spindly furniture and the wide windows open to the pale sky, and the cold breeze blowing everywhere. The only splash of colour was the brightly-coloured packet of crisps that lay on a chair. Kai regarded it for a moment, and then picked it up and opened it. He couldn't go to Russia if he was hungry.


He had only one photograph of Tyson. Mr Dickinson had taken it, a while after the whole BEGA thing: come, now, Kai, smile!

Kai disliked and mistrusted photographs deeply, seeing as they were generally taken either by annoying teenagers who were addicted to cell phones, or by press photographers who were loud and nosy and disrespectful; but Tyson had flung an arm around his neck and grinned madly and flashed a victory sign, and Kai had leaned his head against Tyson's and closed his eyes and smiled in gentle exasperation, and the camera had flickered and that had been that.

Afterwards, he had stolen the photograph from the BBA Wall of Fame. It had been simple: when no one was around, he had unhooked the little photo frame, taken the picture out, and then put the frame back on the wall. No one had said anything official about it. The frame was left empty. It ended up as something of a BBA legend – the fabled Missing Photograph. Ooh, scary, Kai had drawled on hearing Max's account. What's next, the Phantom of the Opera?

The real question, Max had hinted, waggling his eyebrows madly, is who would want a picture of Kai and Tyson, anyway?

Kai had shot him a dirty look, and Tyson, blushing furiously, had elbowed Max very hard, and nothing else had been said.

Since Kai's daring robbery, the photograph had lived in a plain wooden frame on Kai's otherwise-boring bedside table. He saw it every single day when he woke up and when he went to sleep, and often he spent a lot of the time in between looking at it. Because…because Tyson –

Because Tyson was the only one…because Tyson was the most important person in the world. The only one worth fighting – the one Kai could never defeat, no matter how hard he tried – the one person who burned so fiercely and so brightly…

Now, Kai carefully took the photograph from its frame, and slipped it into his pocket, where it would be safe. He checked his other pocket, running his fingers over Dranzer's edge, letting them linger on Dragoon. He left enough money on the table for two months' rent; if he didn't come back after that time then they could sell the apartment and he wouldn't care. All the possessions he valued and needed were in his bag.


He took a taxi to the airport at dusk: grey sky and grey city, the fine glittering rain sweeping over everything, the roads cold as a snail and lonely. I will find you. Soot and carbon monoxide and exhaust fumes billowed and tore, stained a dark pervasive gold by the sodium of the streetlights. He breathed in the cold air, pale face to the ashen sky.

Rain and thunder always reminded him of Tyson. Just the littlest things caught at him, the smallest connections…it had used to be like that whenever some newspaper article or umpire had said something, however inane, about Granger's archrival Hiwatari or Hiwatari, widely regarded as the world's top blader in terms of technical ability and endurance, is still considered to be Granger's most dangerous competition…anything linking them, any proof of what was between them, any proof that there was something between them.

He waited for his flight, having already booked his ticket by telephone. The bleached lights and gleaming tiled floors blinded him, and the words and faces around blurred over to grey, blurred over until they left him feeling hungry, almost: unfulfilled, sick with a ceaseless stale ache. His chest hurt when he thought about Tyson. It was worry. It was the fact that he didn't want Tyson to be hurt. More than that: it was the fact that he needed Tyson to be with him. He trusted Tyson, had faith in his strength, knew that Tyson would never give up, would never let go. Tyson would probably end up rescuing his own stupid self, if he managed to work out how.

But it was Boris.

And it was longing. It was the fact that he needed Tyson with him. It was that.

You really are selfish.

He leaned back in his seat, pressed his hands to his face. He couldn't take the waiting. He had to do something, had to be out there fighting, had to be active. He had never been so tired in his life, but he needed to fight. He had to.

He heard a voice, some half-remembered voice heard above the noise of the crowd, and opened his eyes.

"Hey, there, Kai-man," Ray said, easily, plopping down on the seat next to Kai. He put a hand on his shoulder. "You OK?"

Kai gripped his wrist and said, in a low, furious voice, "Leave me alone. Turn around and walk away right now. You have nothing to do with me and I have nothing to do with you, and if you try to say anything to stop me I will kill you."

"If Tyson could see you he'd be ashamed of you," Ray said, calmly.

"Leave me alone."

"We're not going to sit around doing nothing any more than you are. He's a Bladebreaker. You're a Bladebreaker. We look after each other and we stick together, got that?"

"Yo," Max said, taking the seat on the other side of Kai while Daichi trailed along afterwards, pounding furiously at his GameBoy. "So. Is Kai being a pissy idiot or have you talked him round yet?"

"What do you think?" Ray muttered. "I think we need Hilary to yell at him again."

"Die, alien scum!" Daichi agreed, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

Kai was sitting very, very still.

Max snickered. "Aww, you upset we ruined your little rescue mission?" he said, looking very pleased with himself. "Sorry, man, no more gallivanting halfway across the continent for you."

"My flight is booked out," Kai said.

"Yeah. By us. The Chief was watching the computers."

"You're going to get hurt. Don't be stupid."

"Hey, guys!" Hilary called.

"Hey, Hil!" Max called back, waving wildly. "Hey, Chief! We found him!"

Kai stood up, looked around. "This is ridiculous," he said, flatly. "You're going to get hurt."

"So it's OK for us to get hurt, but not you?" Hilary enquired. "Or are you just so amazingly skilled that nothing will happen to you, huh?"

"I don't have as many –" he searched for the words, shaking with anger and frustration "- ties as you do. You have families. You can't honestly say your parents agreed to this?"

"Er…well…my mom doesn't really know I'm here," Hilary said, sheepishly. "But it's all my own money from my savings and I left her a note explaining and we'll find a hotel or something and everything will be fine, I promise!"

"Exactly," Ray said. "Kai, you're being selfish. This isn't about you. It's about him. It's about us doing whatever we can. Even if it's stupid and reckless, as long as we're trying."

"We're running away from home," Kenny was muttering frantically. He seemed to be returning to his old self, however slightly. "We're running away

from home. Ohhhh, this is awful. I am going to be grounded forever. No, really, I am. Forever and ever and ever. I won't even be allowed to go to my own funeral. That's how grounded I am."

"Oh, honestly, Chief."

"I won't be allowed time on the Internet. No Internet means no life. What is the point in carrying on?"

"Isn't it supposed to be no Internet means no porn?"

"No porn means no life!"

"Whoa. Whoa. Chief, we never knew."

"Gaaack, ignore that! Why are you not listening to me? We are running away from home!"

"Chill, Chief, it's not that bad."

"Yeah, toughen up, buddy."

"If you guys haven't noticed by now, when I'm worried it's usually for an extremely good reason!"

Kai grabbed his suitcase and strode away from the group, shoulders heaving. He could hear again the frustrated, sympathetic silence that he left in his wake, imagine how they would all bite their lips and shoot each other knowing looks. You go after him. Nah, you. No, I think you should. Oh, fine. Guess I'll try talk some sense into him.

He didn't care what they thought about him.

He knew that he was being selfish, that he was wasting valuable effort and time. They should be working together. He shouldn't be making this all about him. He knew that. And yet – he hadn't pictured this. He didn't want to have to be accountable for them. They weren't responsible enough, and he couldn't take care of them; and after all these years, his position in the team, when he had to take it, was that of knight, defender, security force. Daichi was just a kid. Hilary had no method of defence. It was just stupid, utterly wasteful and reckless. It was not viable. Besides: he could do this quicker and more efficiently. He didn't need variables or sundries. He needed it to be simple and powerful and straightforward.

He didn't need anyone with him.

He was walking blind now; he didn't know where he was going – he was just pushing his way steadily through the crowd, letting his vision blur. It had been so long since he had slept…after a while he found himself staring out of the wide windows into the twilight of the runways beyond. The lights of the aeroplane streamed out in the dimness, trailing blue and orange. He leaned his forehead to the windowpane briefly, just long enough to feel the cold and see his breath flare grey and die, see his own eyes flat and ghostly in the glass.

Then he straightened up, setting his fists on the window-ledge. A young woman stood nearby, a fat baby clutching a toy frog clamped to her hip. A plane had just landed, and people were starting to disembark. She was on tiptoe, peering out, making excited faces at the baby, waggling her eyebrows until it gurgled. All of a sudden she took the baby's hand and waved it excitedly, saying, "Look, there's your daddy! Wave for daddy!"

Kai looked away. Noise was all around him, glare was all around him: motion, routine, normality. He didn't want that. He was grey now, he was grey and lifeless: he was routine, he was stilted motion. He'd been here before, in a hundred different airports across the world, looking out beyond the glass to the black sky and the cold wild wind. He didn't want that anymore. He never wanted that ever again.

"You listen here," Hilary began from behind him, her voice midway between tears and anger.

Kai turned his face away. "I have to find him," he said, hoarsely.

"We know," she said. "We will."

"I can do this better on my own," he said. "You have to trust me. I can't do this if you interfere."

"We need you with us," she said. "We need everyone."

Max jogged up, with the others close behind. "You're the only one interfering at the moment, Kai old buddy," Max said. "Because if you're not working with us, then you're messing our plans up. And I'd say you have to trust us."

Kai started. He did trust them. Didn't he? He trusted their strength, respected them as rivals. Shouldn't he trust them with Tyson, as well?

"I just," he said to no one, palms flat on the ledge of the wide window. His brain wasn't working properly. He couldn't think, couldn't work out the solution to this, even though there had to be one. "I just have to find him…" He hated this, hated the messiness of others, the confusion; but he hated emotional imprecision as well, hated self-centeredness and hesitation…

Suck it up, he told himself, sharply.

About time, Tyson agreed in his head.

"Alright," he said, out loud. "Fine. Fine, whatever."

They all let out sighs of relief. "That's more like it," Ray said.

"And – I have money in Russia," Kai added. "I know a hotel where we can stay – we – we can book rooms online during the flight. We'll be alright." Drawing himself up, he finished off with, "I actually put some thought into this, unlike you, it seems."

"Awesome," Ray grinned. "Here we go."


Kai fell asleep almost as soon as the plane had taken off. He had a dream that he didn't like, an odd mechanical dream that somehow involved sinking into black glass until he was entirely encased in obsidian, unable to move or breathe. He woke with a start, his neck aching and stiff. He often had dreams like that, dreams where he was held down by invisible chains. Hag-ridden – that was what they called it in Russia: the witch sitting on your chest, sucking out your breath. Kenny had said it was a fairly common phenomenon. Tyson had said it was creepy.

You don't ever get, like, nightmares, do you?

The plane was in darkness; Daichi was snoring away on Max's shoulder. Only Kenny was still awake, judging by the glow of his laptop. He looked up briefly, as though he knew that Kai had been watching him. Their eyes met for a moment, and then Kenny smiled a haggard, sad little smile, and went back to work.

Kai turned away, stared at the seat in front of him. Eventually, he fell asleep again.


end note: i honest to goodness wrote ninety per cent of this two years ago. urgh.