Disclaimer – "Yu Yu Hakusho" and all known related characters do not belong to me. Batsukuno, Bokuma, and Dog are the only characters I own. If you want to use them for your own fic, I probably would not mind but please ask. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"What Goes Around . . . "
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 5 – Fallen

Heaven bend to take my hand, And lead me through the fire.
Be the long-awaited answer, To a long and painful fight.
We all began with good intent, When love was raw and young.
We believed that we could change ourselves; The past can be undone.
But we carry on our back the burden Time always reveals -
In the lonely light of morning, In the wound that would not heal.
It's the bitter taste of losing everything That I've held so dear -

I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come 'round here
And tell me 'I told you so'

"Fallen" - Sarah McLachlan

Silence. That was the first thing his pain-riddled mind registered. No one was screaming. No flames popped and hissed while caressing heated irons. No whips cracked, raking searing pain across his exposed flesh. No wood groaned. No voices taunted. Nothing could be heard but his own heartbeat thumping slowly against the frigid stone beneath him.

Am I dead?

Kurama tried to force his eyes open but only one would obey. He could feel the thick swelling and claw slashes deep along the other cheek. The salty-sweet taste of blood filled his mouth. For a long moment, he lay staring blankly at the wall, trying to take a mental inventory of himself. He could only guess that he still had all of his parts attached, if not intact. There was simply too much pain clouding his senses to be sure. He slid his good arm up next to his chest and began to push off the ground. Instantly, spasms of retching struck, breaking wave after wave of agony through him with each convulsion, his insides threatening to surface in lieu of other options. Thankfully, there was nothing left to give, not even spittle or bile. At length, his body calmed down and he let himself rest for a moment.

Apparently not.

Whipfire burned from his shoulders to his hips - and the vicious flogging had only been the beginning. As Bokuma had said, the whip was simply meant to lower his resistance. After that, the real games began. Kurama had a fairly high pain threshold but Bokuma and Dog had tested his level of tolerance in ways he never could have imagined. He hurt everywhere, with bruises, burns, and holes poked in him in places even medical instruments had no business being. Dog had particularly enjoyed trying to tattoo crude designs across his flesh with a superheated iron poker. He was insufferably cold, the stone floor leeching away what little body heat he had. His head swam with each wave of nausea that threatened a repeat performance, his vision badly blurred. The floor beneath him felt like it was swaying out of control and he wondered distantly if this was what it felt like to sleep on a ship at sea. His throat was raw from screaming as well. He had managed to hold out longer than even he had expected but, in the end, gave in to the cries as his only means of escape.

Kurama had been deposited like a rag doll, lying in a prone position that would have been rather uncomfortable had he not already been in so much pain. The only thing that did not hurt, it seemed, was his right arm and that because he was laying on it. It had fallen asleep . . . he hoped. Perhaps for the best, he thought grimly. The shoulder was out of joint. He could not remember, nor did it matter, if it had happened during the flogging or in struggling as Bokuma methodically broke one knuckle after another of his right hand, ensuring that none of the fingers escaped notice. Even now, the sadistic torturer's mocking words echoed through his mind. "Ha! Even if you do have a youkai's healing, you may never hold your precious Rose Whip again - not that you'll have a chance to try."

Well, with little bloodflow into that limb, at least it's one place I'm not losing much blood out of, he thought, trying to find some comfort in grim humor to cheer himself. He could only groan instead. And Hiei endured how many months of this? How did he survive?

I am indeed going to die down here, Kurama thought. A murmur escaped him with the realization, tears stinging his eyes as despair threatened to overwhelm him. A vision of his mother flickered through his mind, followed by ones of Hiei, Yusuke and Kuwabara. Mom, my friends - I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry that I could not say good-bye.

Stop it. Stop it! he growled suddenly, angry with himself, squeezing his eye shut to deny the tears threatening to fall. Not thinking straight, that's all. Come on, Kurama. Once again, more carefully, he tried to push himself up. He successfully resisted the reflex to vomit again but without the use of his right arm, he was only twisting his back, breaking open the scabs that had formed along the whipwounds. Fresh blood trickled along his sides and down over the bad shoulder. Aaah! No! No good, not that way. Changing tactics, he rolled slowly onto his left side, biting back moans as white shards of pain lanced across his vision and mind. He managed to work himself into a sitting position, pulling his feet under himself, immediately hugging his good arm over the other, supporting it across his bruised ribs as he took stock of his situation. Dislocated shoulder . . . shattered fingers on one hand . . . whiplashes . . . muscle strains . . . burns . . . piercing wounds . . . cold sweat - that would indicate that I am very likely in shock. At least one rib is cracked if not broken, he reasoned as pain lanced through him with each shallow breath. He hazarded a look down at himself and realized, to add insult to injury, that he was nude. Well, that would explain why it's so cold, he thought, trying once more to find comfort in humor. He dragged his broken, beaten body to the wall, leaning on his good shoulder for support. For a long moment, he just sat there huddled over, a study in misery, unaware of the tears until one slipped down his nose, dripping onto his chest.

In spite of his best efforts, the memories of the past few hours kept creeping into his thoughts as he sat couchant in the silent darkness. With every pain created by even the slightest of movement, with each torturous breath he struggled to take, the horrific memories beat at him. They threatened to overwhelm him, challenged his hold on sanity as he struggled to come to terms with the overwhelming abuse delivered to him in such fiendish delight by his tormentors. Some of the tortures he could handle. Some violations were too much to bear. His fevered mind fled any thought of those atrocities - like a wild horse shying from a pack of hungry wolves, his mind turned to race down into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness where the void provided a small sanctuary from everything - pain, feeling, thinking. I do not know how much more I can take . . .

He looked up suddenly, distantly registering the whimper that escaped his lips as he sensed the approach of a strong youkai even before he heard anything. No! he moaned silently. Not again. Not yet!

Well, if they were coming again already, Kurama decided as fear turned to anger, he was not going to meet them on his knees. Ignoring the wrenching agony flooding his body and mind, he climbed to his feet on trembling legs, willing himself upright on the strength of obstinacy alone. The room rocked crazily in his clouded vision like a tilt-a-whirl gone mad. No head appeared to shadow the light falling in through the tiny window in the door but he heard a key enter the lock. After a few seconds, it was pulled and another replaced it. Must be Dog, Kurama thought in disgust. He's probably not intelligent enough - or sane enough - to know one key from another. After a third attempt, the lock clicked and the door swung cautiously open, revealing a short figure in black, red eyes gleaming.

"Hiei!" The word escaped his torn throat in a barely audible croak as relief washed over Kurama, stealing the few threads of strength left in him with the blessed blackness that flooded over him once again.

8 8 8 8 8

Shocked, Hiei paused at the door, unprepared for the sight before him in spite of himself. Even he had never seen someone so wounded from torture. It was a wonder that Kurama was standing at all. Then, he was falling. Hiei darted in, catching his friend as he collapsed. Kurama had lost consciousness, and Hiei laid him carefully onto the floor, initial horror giving way to grim fury as he looked his partner over. Bokuma did all this? he thought in disbelief. And he couldn't even leave him the decency of his clothes? Grrrr . . . When I get my hands on -

Hiei stopped himself. No time for that. Deal with that later. Now was the time for action, not reaction.

Kurama moaned and stirred, shifting to look up at him. "H-hiei . . . "

Hiei touched his fingers to Kurama's pain-whitened lips with a silent shake of his head. Bracing mentally, he had to push through thick layers of black agony to reach the other's mind. -Shh! Don't speak. Save your strength. Besides, there might be some kind of surveillance, sound if not visual. I'm going to get you out of here. Then, we can see to your wounds.-

Kurama grimaced, Hiei's voice in his mind pounding like a sledgehammer, but he managed to nod his understanding. He passed out again as Hiei shifted his body and lifted him across his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

Hiei stole out of the cell and down the corridor, making for the secret passage. With the Jagan, he could scry and anticipate approaching guards and other dangers, ducking into empty cells or around corners when necessary. Halfway to safety, a guard rounded a corner before Hiei could find cover.

"Hey, wha - What're you up to?" the guard snapped, startled to see him.

"I'm relocating a prisoner." Hiei shifted his burden, ready to set Kurama down if needed.

"You're no guard . . . Wait a minute! I know you. You're Hiei!"

"And you're dead." In one smooth motion, Hiei dropped to one knee, slipping Kurama to the floor, and came back up with sword drawn. The guard managed to block the first strike with his own sword but Hiei was too fast. The guard lost first his sword arm, then his head, before he could register Hiei's attacks. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hiei stripped the dead guard of his pants, then reshouldered Kurama and quickened his pace.

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