AN:/ Killua experiences the reawakening of an emotion he swore he buried a long time ago.

Excuse me for being so behind with this. Let's get the ball rolling baby. Small chapter is small. The rest will have some length. This is just some weird introspect and mind shiz I was toying with. Don't mind me.

Thanks, as usual, to everybody for your support. Damn I am so late still. This is anti-climatic but that's because I wanna throw you off guard then slam a giant angst wrecking ball on you okay? OKAY.

Enjoy.

iKudo: AHHH. Thank you. Your comment made me laugh haha and I appreciate it! YES THE SUSPENSE. FLEE.

MermaidinDisguise: Awee. Haha. Total swap over but thank you! I am terrible at multitasking at least when it comes to this and irl crap. If I just had this I'd be popping out stuff like crazy. BUT THANKS YARG

"Tell me what you did, where you gone and hid?"

Watching a grown man fall to his knees, practically crushed to pieces right before her very eyes – Was not how Biscuit planned her day on going. No, it had been far too long since she'd seen another adult cry, least of all another man for starters.

This man named Leorio was there in front of her, at Killua's side, holding his hand and furiously scrubbing at his face like it'd smear the tears away enough to hide them but the both of them knew it did nothing but reign in the obvious.

Killua was seriously hurt and Gon was clearly the cause of it. Not only that, but the little shit; as Leorio had said more then once in the last half an hour of being here, had taken off and was no where to be seen.

The criminal fled the scene of the crime, per say, without a shred of a hint of his current whereabouts.

"Damnit." Leorio wheezed, his voice broken in a sob, "Damnit it all."

Biscuit's eyes skimmed over Killua's bare form, left discarded and obviously used like a piece of garbage. She tried not to stray too long drinking in the sight of such a strong-willed, talented young boy left naked and trashed out in the middle of the open wilderness. His clothes were tattered ruins, scattered remains of his shirt at his left, his shorts and undergarments tarnished to the right. Even his shoes were scuffed, patches worn in and shoelaces removed.

It sickened her to wonder why the shoelaces were tied around his wrists, no less a broken arm and a hand lacking two workable digits even. Why would there even be a need for restraints when he was left in that state?

Biscuit shuddered.

She thanked God just a little that Killua happened to be lying face down when they stumbled upon him, exuberant smiles and pumped-up adrenaline for the possibility that both Gon and Killua would be there together; ready to tackle the problem at hand. For having back-up was crucial and two friends out of three was better then none; at least to Biscuit, so when they arrived hopeful and praying their luck smiled like the sun only to find such a horrific scene – Well, Biscuit was mortified beyond her years.

Leorio was worse. He was so bad that the second their bodies materialized in the air and the older man laid eyes upon Killua, he broke. He broke, like a leaf in the storm and ran to his side in a fit of tears and slurred words that she couldn't comprehend what was a sob and what wasn't. He was babbling all sorts of things, checking every inch of him and talking to himself like he was taking notes before he had to stop to take a breather and relax. She could see the mental anguish Leorio was in, with how his shoulders trembled and his hands shook and his uneven, raspy gasps could be heard from half way across the grass spread.

But Leorio appeared to be a calm and composed man, and despite how terribly shaken up he was, he had the extraordinary power to center himself in an unstable situation. Her smile felt faint on her lips, yet was there nonetheless as she watched Leorio immediately get to work patching Killua up. She didn't bother interrupting him or offering help – He was so entirely focused on the task at hand that to pry or nudge would simply ruin his concentration.

When Killua was finally looking more like a normal human teenager and not a damaged piece of spat out meat, did Leorio settle and sit there, just soaking in Killua's predicament with his head bowed and tears falling. Biscuit pushed aside her blonde hair, stepping up to stand at his side and stare down at the neatly wrapped bandages that covered the pale child like a mummy. His wounds were dressed and Leorio draped his navy dress coat over his naked form, shielding him from the intense sun rays blasting through the tiny spaces in the tree tops.

Biscuit was so used to a pale Killua that to see him otherwise, would be difficult to accept.

"Leorio," spoke up Biscuit after a moment, pulling on one of her white gloves, "We can't stay here forever you know. We must find Gon before sun-down or we'll lose his tracks. It's impossibly hard to find someone in this game without the right cards and cards cost money."

"If it's money, I can pay. Any amount." Leorio righted himself onto the balls of his heels and pulled out his Hunter License. Biscuit shook her head.

"Greed Island has it's own currency. Real life money doesn't count here."

"Then how do we earn enough money to buy whatever it is we need?"

Sighing, the blonde woman scratched her cheek and laced her white fingers together with a reassuring smile. The image before her; of a young man – A friend – remaining by the side of his injured companion, was heart warming. She was a sucker and this was her sappy side, drawn to seeing other people taking care of one another. The world was lacking on the kind side these days; hell, all she had come across as of late was the selfish, the greedy, the sinful.

And besides, even she admitted that these past few weeks or so, Gon and Killua had grown on her. They were her friends, too, and her motherly instinct was probably kicking in from lack of children of her own. Biscuit didn't complain.

Why, with her slowly declining age, Biscuit promised herself not to complain too much about what life throws at her.

"Don't worry about a thing, Leorio. I got this taken care of."

"Look at where having friends and feelings has gotten you, Killu. Was it everything you ever dreamed of?"

Illumi's towering, willowy form was looming overhead somewhere; out there in the recesses of shadows, but Killua did not budge nor did he bother to look and double check if he really was there.

If Illumi even existed here, that is.

"Isn't this what you wanted? You are the one who signed up for this, after all. This pain, this hurt, this misery, right?"

Killua scoffed. Yeah right.

"Is this what you thought it would be? What you spent fantasizing over all these years? Is this what you expected it to turn out to become?"

Killua wordlessly open and closed his mouth a few times. He said nothing.

"Tell me, little brother. Are you satisfied?"

His sweaty, clammy palms slid over his eyes, shutting him off from the darkness around and into the world that his sheltered hands gave him. Killua remained silent.

"What have you done, Killua? Have you had enough yet?"

The rock he swallowed down his throat hurt.

"Doesn't it hurt? Doesn't it feel worse then torture? Wouldn't you rather endure our family's customs over this? Don't we treat you so much better than this?"

Killua was slowly, ever so slowly, closing in on himself; curling into that ever trustworthy ball of himself where no one could touch him, reach him, and least of all harm him. It was his automatic defensive mechanism – He wished that it had only been impenetrable to begin with.

"Kill, do you like how this feels? This pain? Do you like it?"

He choked on a broken sob, ripped between the spaces of his bit knuckle stuffed in his mouth.

"Do you miss him?"

Killua was wrestling with the tears flooding past his lids, trying to keep them at bay, but the dam was bursting and his emotions tore through him like a knife.

"Did you enjoy it?"

A small whimper. I hate this.

"Are you happy now?"

The memories of Gon bombarded him in a steady stream of images, flashing back and forth like a movie reel across his mind, behind his palms, and Killua sniffed. His chest hurt. His eyes hurt. His head, his mouth, his nose, his arms and legs – Every piece of him hurt. Every piece of him longed to think that this; this madness, would eventually subside and things would be alright again. Things could return to being okay and he and Gon could return to being friends, to smiles and hugs and the light that cascaded off a sliver of ebony hair and fiery eyes.

But Killua's consciousness was right. Illumi was right.

This was nothing like what Killua ever imagined it to be.

Gon simply just wasn't Gon anymore, nor may he ever return to the same as he was before. It was a fact that chilled Killua to the bone, to the soul, and back.

Several minutes of silent suffering and Killua finally shuddered back to life, shoveling down the heaves in his chest, the ache in his heart to look up. "I-?" Killua gulped, letting his arms dangle loosely at his sides where they fell.

Sapphire irises blinked back open then, crystalline droplets like ice sticking to the ends of his lashes. He sniffed, using the back of his sleeve to rub at his nose, and looked around; ready to try responding to Illumi's echoing questions. But he was nowhere to be seen and Killua frowned, brows pinched forward in concentration. He could have sworn his older brother was here; why, he knew clearly that he wouldn't hallucinate his brother's voice let alone his words. He had seen him first off when he drifted off to this dark land and to find him gone in the aftermath of Killua's battling emotions was strange.

"Brother?" He voiced, out loud, to the own echo of his voice palpitating across the black plains. There was nothing here – Nothing but a void of midnight and hollowed emptiness. There was a chill in the air and Killua shivered, goosebumps on his skin, and he clutched at his arms. His heart was racing miles a minute; a drum beating against the inside of his rib cage, and Killua steadily took in a deep breath or two on the premise that it would calm himself. He was better trained then this, raised differently then this; surely he could overcome a bout of sniffles and tears even in his own damned dreams?

Deciding that he would get no where standing in one place for too long, Killua marched off towards a random direction. There were still faint whispers and breathy sighs of Illumi's words but nothing he could make sense out of so he was forced to walk, trapped in his own head.

Although Killua wished Gon were here, to guide him with that light of his, he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. The radiance he saw in Gon before; the brilliant ray of perfection and excellence, was smothered in a fog of ash and smoke. There was a tint of gray there where the hues of red and orange used to glow, where the yellow used to blossom like a ball of sunshine and goodness – Now nothing but putrid black, inky and dark like a sea of decayed crystallized drug.

How was Killua supposed to get by now without that light guiding him before? He was already birthed from that darkness, but to follow a single glow that had pulled him from that residue; for so long, and then be ripped away from its helping hand, left him lost. Killua was lost, confused, disorientated and unable to fend for himself as if he had been severed from the ties that trained him how to survive alone. The ribbon that led him, instructed him and gave him life and the tools to live and how to breathe; was cut and broken, and now Killua could do nothing but sit and stare at the shreds of its remains and wallow in his own hollowed soul – Himself reduced to nothing but an empty shell with nothing to fill it.

Stuck, again, just like he was before Gon and he met.

He pulled to a stop somewhere far off from where he started, figuring it'd be a waste of energy to travel for too long in an unending abyss. If there was no door, no exit or light shining in the distance trying to offer him a way out, then it would be of no use to keep trying before he ran out of strength to keep going. It was hard enough lasting the way he was now – Broken, a fragment of himself – but to continue onward to nothingness that awaited, was pointless, and Killua was beyond expending his hope for something that lacked the one thing he was missing.

Lacked the one thing he craved.

"Gon." Killua said, once, mouthing his name like a feather across his lips, shivering. The name made the entirety of blackness around him shiver, too, like it was tickled, and he blinked in dawning realization. "Hey, Gon." He tried again, watching the creases of his dreamland twitch.

"Gon!" He threw out one hand, reaching out towards nothing in particular yet willing for something to be there, or at least pretend to be there. Maybe if he reached out long enough; pushed his thoughts hard enough, something would appear and he could free himself.

Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, Gon would be there; normal, again, and things could return to normal.

It would return to a time and place where Killua hadn't made the worst mistake of his life.

"Gon. Please." Killua's voice sounded solemn and he hated it, hated how he was at the mercy of that damned Freecs boy like this. After all they had been through, he still needed him. He still wanted him, despite all Gon had done and all the shit he had pulled. Gon was his lifeline.

Gon was his everything and he loathed it, yet loved it at the very same time.

"Tch." He clenched his fist and dropped it. Gon wasn't going to come out here to find him, no matter how many times he called out. This was strictly imagination; his sub-consciousness playing mind tricks on him, for if Illumi were here berating his every motive and move then he'd be cold-pressed to find Gon here, trying to convince him otherwise. Gon wasn't going to save him, not here, and certainly not now. Not with drugs in his system, dictating his pathway on a different course that lacked Killua in the equation.

"Damnit, Gon."

He sunk to his knees suddenly, clasped his hands together over his face, and screamed as hard as he could.

It felt like the right thing to do at the time, screaming full force into his rough palms and ruining his throat until it was raw and course. He felt like tearing apart anything and everything he could sink his nails into, bite and scratch and throw something and wreck the whole damn place and still he could keep on going.

If this was what a temper tantrum was like, Killua might consider them more often because he sure as hell felt better screaming himself senseless. Or perhaps, that was what he was desperately trying to convince himself that it did – Telling himself that throwing a fit and blowing up would make him feel shit loads better.

In reality it didn't.

"Killua."

His head shot up, blue eyes wide, bloated, and he looked straight up into the eyes of Gon's afterimage; fuzzy and disorientated like a bad pixelated image. Gon was frowning and his once honey-orange eyes were rendered solid black, ugly and dark and Killua hated seeing that color on his friend. Hated anything black that dare consume a ray of sunshine slipping in his cracks, in his world. Gon knelt down to his level, cocking his head to the side and blinked. Killua gulped.

"Do you hate me?"

"I-" Killua started then stopped himself. Did he hate Gon? After all that he had done? Could he still possibly hate him for this? Wasn't this originally his fault to begin with? The reason Gon was swallowed up in the world of drugs; was Killua's doing, wasn't it? "I don't know." He finally answered, his voice shallow at the depths of his swelling throat, his swollen, thick-with-blood heart carrying the weight of a boulder and the agony of their situation altogether.

His chest was heavy and it hurt insanely so.

"You don't hate me?"

Gon was looking at him, perplexed and still so innocent and Killua forced himself to maintain eye contact. If he were to eventually confront Gon about this – Which he intended to soon – Then he may as well gather his fears and at least manage doing so in his head. If he couldn't speak to this dream-Gon, then he'd be hopeless elsewhere.

"Don't you want to save me?"

Reaching out, Gon's fingertips reached out and brushed across Killua's scalp, ice cold. He hissed, lurching back and as his hand jerked to slap away Gon's own, Gon caught his wrist and yanked. Killua was forced forward until their noses were touching but Killua found no breath mingling with his own. Just nervous warmth passing between them, sticky like musk. Trying to pull away, their hands shook as Killua pulled and pried but Gon's grip didn't lessen and only tightened, uncomfortably so. It started to numb the feeling in his arm and Killua panicked, knowing his bones would be the next to break.

"Gon, let go-"

"Don't you care about me Killua?"

"Of course I do, Gon, but seriously let me-"

"Don't you need me still?"

"Gon, really, now is not the time-"

"Don't I make you happy?"

"Gon-!"

"Don't you love me?"

"GON-"

Snap.

It took all of Killua's mental resolve not to scream as Gon released a limp, dangling arm back into Killua's control and he clutched at his broken wrist, nursing at the dark indigo color blossoming there with a whimper. It hurt worse in his imagination; he thought, as he hugged it to his chest.

"Damnit." Shaking his head, Killua glanced up and glared straight into a smirking face nothing like Gon's true self, "Damn you."

Two hands flew out suddenly, wrenched Killua by the hair and slammed him to the floor. His face was crushed repeatedly again and again into something he swore wasn't even there, in this darkness of a fortress that was his mind; blown apart at the seams and ripped to shreds. He wasn't even sure there was anything left in his head but the empty nothingness that he found and the voices that echoed his loneliness.

Tears welled in his squeezed shut blue eyes, the crunch of his fingers snapping reminiscent of the old days catching up with him. But despite the tears being present, wanting to spill, he couldn't let them drop, and his head lulled back as Gon's grasp upon his neck brought him face to face with a Gon who wore the same emotionless, detached expression his brother did. That same set of void-like eyes, cold and calculating without an ounce of feeling in them – Both staring at him, disappointed and frowning.

"Tell me, Killua." The mixed up person said in a mixed up voice, droplets glistening at the corner of their own lids and Killua's heart lurched painfully, "For having friends and feelings; is this exactly what you dreamed of?"

Killua choked. He couldn't answer, just couldn't fathom considering it. Was this what he dreamed of?

Before he could process what was happening next, Gon's arm drew back and his fist swung and a scream that Killua didn't think he would make came; silencing the second those knuckles collided and darkness ate up his vision.

WAIT-!

"I'm telling you, you're wrong!"

"No, I think our best tactic is to take it slow. Rush it too fast and you'll make HIM explode and then where would that lead us? Nowhere!"

"Well, I'm telling you that-"

With a jolt, Killua bolted upright into a seated position, his scream bouncing off his skull and outward into the forest around him. Leorio and Biscuit all-but jumped out of their pants and over the moon then back as they whipped around to face a screaming Killua, who, in seconds, realized he was awake and not in dreamland and slapped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed. But as soon as he did, he winced, noticing his two broken fingers jutting out at odd angles, and hissed.

"..Oh shit." His voice muffled past his fingers and the two adults rushed over to him, frantic yet relieved.

"Killua!"

"You're finally awake!"

"Yeah." Killua said, slowly, lowering his hand back to his lap which he found covered in a huge, mammoth-sized blue jacket he figured to be Leorio's. He could recognize that stinky cologne anywhere. "Yeah, I'm awake. When did you two get here?"

Biscuit's brow rose, her pink-eyed stare making Killua cringe away. "Around an hour ago."

"How long have I been out for?"

"I don't know. We're the ones who found you like this so it was hard to tell how long you had been out. But I could guess from the drying blood that it had been about two hours since whatever occurred." Leorio pointed out, gesturing low at Killua's waist. This forced the young teen to blush furiously to the tip of his ears from embarrassment then wave his broken-fingered hand at him with a growl.

"Shut up, old man. I don't want to hear it." He drew up the smelly blue jacket on instinct. "And stop looking at my crotch, pervert. You're worse then Hisoka."

Leorio glared, a retort on his teeth, but Biscuit hushed him. "Now's not the time for this. Killua, tell us what happened."

"What is there to tell?" The words felt hot, burning like acid in his throat and Killua scratched at the make-shift splint his other arm was cast in, in order to avoid meeting their eyes. "I got in a small scuffle. That's it."

"With who?"

"Well, you know.."

"Killua."

He flinched at the nagging tone. Just like parents. "It was Gon. It's not that serious though, so-"

"You're calling a broken arm, two broken fingers, major head concussion, broken ribs, and minor skull fracture; ALONG WITH everything else down below that I need remind you of, not serious?"

"Tch, pervy old man."

"Killua!" Biscuit pulled, hard, on Killua's left ear, the teenager yelping in the process. "Stop acting like a child! This is serious. Tell us what happened, please."

"Why?"

Both adults stared at him, blank as ever and unresponsive, and Killua laughed dry and humorously because he wished he could find their expressions funny and not all-knowing. He hated how well they could read him – How anyone lately, especially Gon, found a way to scan his pages like an open invitation to the book of his soul – and how difficult it was to evade them. It wasn't as easy as flipping on a switch and lying flat out to them, no, these two were seasoned experts when it came to lies and reading people and Killua misjudged how poorly his choices were in making friends.

Poor and also very, very fortunate.

Why, Killua wondered how fortunate he really was ever since that fateful encounter at the Hunter Exam. How he had fled from home, determined to seek out adventure only to have it come to him; arms open wide and bright grin in tow. Gon, in tow, ready to grab his hand and lead him astray, just how Killua imagined it. Why, it was his wildest fantasies that Killua pictured would happen ever since he was a little boy; bound by chain, gagged to silence, branded by iron and wearing armor of blood-crusted steel. It was but a dream that Killua would eventually find the freedom he so hopelessly wanted.

Gon made Killua not so hopeless, then. Kurapika, Leorio, Wing and Zushi, Zepile, and now Biscuit; all made him not so hopeless.

And here they were, his fortunate friends supporting him, caring about him; showing their true and honest feelings. Killua was reminded of all the things he buried back then at the Zoldyck family estate; Kukuroo mountain – All the bottled up feelings and the bottled up dreams and wishes he promised to see through, then gave them up on the knowing that nothing was ever going to change. Everything that was buried below the dirt, far deep into the Earth and long forgotten, finally returned to him.

Killua Zoldyck had no friends. Killua Zoldyck was a killer.

But this Killua Zoldyck; with whom may be beaten and battered, broken and busted, was still alive. This Killua, still had friends.

This Killua still had Gon, despite the drugs. Despite all the pain and the agony and the hurt and lies and all of it, Killua knew he still had him. And even if he didn't, Killua was certain he would get him back.

Why, after all, Killua never felt more fortunate then he did now.

"Okay." He spoke up, the good kind of fluttering in his chest coming from the way the two before him beamed with relieved smile, "I'll tell you."