A/N: wow, was not expecting such an awesome reaction! you guys rock, you know that? much love and reviews are still appreciated! FANGASM GO!

Seven Ghosts

Part One

Chapter Three

It Didn't Turn Out the Way You Wanted it To

[{Heiwajima Shizuo]}

Guilt is a terrible thing. I guess that's why I was headed out for Shinjuku much later that evening.

I'm the idiot here. Ugh, stupid pest.

I'm not sure why, but I had to see him before he went and committed suicide. I guess what I really wanted was for things not to change. And change had just been thrust into our laps. How could I not have noticed? I had been hitting him a lot more than usual, and it hadn't even occurred to me that there might have been a reason other than him just fucking with me.

I don't know what I was going to say, or maybe I just wanted to strangle him to death with my own hands before he had the pleasure of "going out on his own terms." At least that's what I'd like to believe. I can't deny that I was suddenly very guilt-ridden for trying to murder someone who had a death sentence. Even if it served him right.

Even if that someone was Izaya.

I approached his condominium complex and stopped for a cigarette. I would at least respect the landlord's blatant request to not smoke plastered on the sliding glass door out front. To my surprise, about halfway through my nicotine fix, a tall woman with long black hair and a shrewd look in her eyes came off of the elevator and made her way out the automatic doors. Maybe this was my chance to avoid a breaking and entering.

Izaya's secretary, Yagiri Namie.

"Yagiri-san."

She stopped and narrowed her eyes at me, well aware of what I was here to do. "Do refrain from catching me in the crossfire of whatever you would throw at Izaya-san's head this evening," she sighed coldly, almost rolling her eyes.

I held up a fifty. "Let me in."

A small smile played at her lips. "Better double that and promise you won't kill him outright. Keep in mind, the man signs my paychecks."

"Deal."

I'd never seen the inside of Izaya's condo before. It never occurred to me just how much money dealing in information can bring in. Namie let me in with her card and quickly left. Whether she knew of Izaya's condition or not escaped me, and she was so damn intimidating that I really couldn't ask.

I didn't even take off my shoes as I walked in. "Iiiiiizaaaayaaaaa-kuuuun..." I called out, tensing for an attack any second.

No one replied.

"Izaya...?" I asked, glancing down the hallway to the right of the front lounge area. "Oh. Great."

He wasn't here.

I frowned. Maybe he'd already gone and killed himself? No, if that were true he wouldn't have left his computers on. Suicide victims usually turn everything off, put everything away or make as if they weren't coming back. The state of Izaya's desk clearly said otherwise. I was surprised at the pair of reading glasses just shoved to the side of the keyboard – I'd never known Izaya to wear glasses. Ever.

I guess they would have been in their case if he didn't plan on coming back. At least that's what I hoped.

I made my way down the hallway, wondering if I would find him passed out from all the heavy-hitter painkillers he'd been prescribed. I'd just handed him the scripts that I'd been given on his behalf, hoping he'd choke on them. Vicodin, Perkaset and Morphine, all in the double digits. My first thought was that he'd been playing off how much pain he may or may not have been in to get high, but then I saw his medicine cabinet.

Nothing but prescription bottles, most of them full still. Shinra's name was on most of them. He may not have been a registered surgeon, but he was still legally able to do some things, and prescribe is one of them. Shinra had been loading him up, and he hadn't been taking them. It probably meant the bastard would rather suffer despite the shady doctor's insistence that he control his pain. There were several syringes and bottles full of clear liquid labeled "Interferon," which put a twist in my stomach.

He'd been declining treatment in order to have Shinra handle it. No records of this would be able to be dug up and used against him, except for today. And I'm sure he'd find away to banish those from existence as well.

This wasn't a lie.

The reality hit home just as I heard the front door open and Izaya's cheerful voice on his cellphone. I jumped into the hall linen closet for who knows what reason as Izaya set a bag from a convenience store down and threw himself on the couch.

"Of course, Shiki-san! … No, don't be ridiculous, I can handle any job you might ask of me. … Lately? Just been caught up with – … no, I – … *sigh* then find someone else for this one. I'm busy tonight anyway, I just got in. … I'm glad you understand. Thank you again, Shiki-san you sly bastard. … Yup. See ya!"

Izaya pressed a button to end the call, then threw the phone across the room, the battery clattering out and the little pokemon dangly decoration that read "M+K" coming loose and also clattering to the floor. Izaya simply lay there for a moment, head buried in the couch with his hands in his hair. It took me a minute to realize that he was clenching his fists so hard that he was making himself bleed.

It was … disturbing.

After a minute he at last stood, taking off his parka and hanging it up, actually missing the hook on the first try. "Fuck..." he cursed under his breath and he suddenly made a bolt for the bathroom, hand along the wall to steady his stumbling run into the bathroom, of which I had a much clearer view.

He emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl, then continued to heave though nothing was coming up anymore. This continued for a good ten minutes until he dragged himself to the sink and shakily opened a container of pills, downing four at once with the tap water.

I couldn't take anymore.

"I thought you were fucking with me," I told him, emerging from my hiding spot.

Izaya jumped and nearly fell into the shower stall as he whipped around, flickblade in hand with a ferociously and hideously angry look about him. I'd never seen him angry before, not to the extent that he would lose his composure anyway. "MOTHERFUCK!" he cursed, catching his balance. He then narrowed his eyes. "Shizu-chan. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough."

"I don't want your pity, you know. Either kill me while I'm down or get the hell out. This is humiliating enough by myself, thank you."

I scratched my head. "Look, I –"

"Are you deaf? I said get the fuck out of my condo!"

"I told you I'm not heartless," I reminded him.

Izaya lunged forward with his blade, but for reasons that were now becoming clear, I moved aside a little too easily and backed into his bedroom. He stumbled in after me, flickblade shaking in his hands. He slashed again, but I barely even had to move this time.

It started to dawn on me.

I held up three fingers. "Izaya, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"What does it matter?" he demanded.

"Come on, pest, just answer the question."

Izaya wiped his mouth, continuing to keep me at blade-point. "Two."

I put my hand down and stared. "You can't see."

"I can see, it's just difficult!" Izaya snapped. "Goddammit, Shizu-chan, can't you just butt out! Wouldn't it be the best thing that's ever happened to you? Just let me die!" His voice dropped to a trembling whisper and hurt shot across his face. "Is that so much to ask?"

And here is where we came in at the beginning of this messed up situation. He's shaking, sweating and clearly he just wants to lay down and give up, but for some reason I just don't want to let him. Izaya covers his mouth as his body heaves, the blade clattering to the floor. He tries to curse and whips around to the half-bath in his room and trips to the floor, nearly smashing his head on the sink.

Without even thinking, I help him up and to the toilet, where he shudders and attempts to purge again, though there is clearly nothing left. I hold his head back as if he were hung over and I was the idiot friend who was there to make the hangover go away. I want to pretend that's the case; anything but this. I am overcome with pity, though I'm sure he'd hate me for it. I'm sure he does.

"I … HATE … you ..." he manages through gags and spits. The only thing that comes out are those four pills he'd gulped down and the water he'd chugged with them. Clearly they wouldn't be doing them any good. "You … you're doing this … to degrade me... You win, alright? … Just … just go away!"

"You're not giving up," I tell him firmly. "You're going to do as Shinra asks and get better. Until I can throw a vending machine at you and you can dodge it without a second glance, then this is what you get from me, understand? Then we can go back to killing each other, but you're NOT giving up."

So Izaya hangs his head in his hands on his bathroom floor and chokes out sobs of anguish, his dignity and pride gone in a puff of smoke.