What Runs Deeper
a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi
chapter eleven
"Stay"
Hiei.
Hiei was dead.
Mukuro's body was brought into startling existence, lungs sucking in air that it seemed they had missed for centuries.
Her head ached—everything ached.
The hardest thing to ignore was the ache of her heart, and all she could do was cry out in pain.
"What the hell have you done to her?"
The familiar voice reached her ears, and everything in her stopped.
Had she imagined it?
She could see nothing that explained it, and she jerked herself upright, ignoring the pain.
She was in Shigure's lab, lying on a table, and Hiei was there—staring at her. He looked terribly abused, but alive.
Mukuro was instantly torn between happiness and the soul-shattering facts of everything that had led up to this moment.
She had almost killed him—almost destroyed everything in her life that ever mattered.
Everything hurt too much to bear. She couldn't stay—she couldn't allow it to seep in any further.
She stumbled to her feet and she ran.
She could hear him following her, but he was so badly injured that he could barely keep up—then, finally, he grabbed her hand and with a sudden lurch brought them both to a halt.
"Don't," he snarled. Then his tone softened: "Don't you dare run away from me."
"Let me—go!" she pleaded. "L . . . let me. . . ." Every word was punctuated by gasps for air, until her voice was eventually choked by anguished sobs.
Her stomach ached. "I . . . we . . ." She wanted to vomit it all up—the feelings, what she had done, knowing any of it, all of it.
"You can't have believed that was me!" she cried. "Tell me you didn't believe that was me!"
But he had. Even when . . .
Mukuro could never bring herself to do such things without love and trust backing them—and now that her trust in even herself was so badly crippled, how could she ever be close to him again?
It would be empty. That was never what she had wanted.
And if she couldn't have Hiei . . .
She never wanted to see him again.
She didn't want to see any of them again.
"I didn't know what to believe!" he shouted back. "What was I supposed to think when you suddenly started acting like a deranged, blood-thirsty skank?"
The words bit into her soul and she sobbed even harder.
This would never be better.
His grip hurt her, but she only wanted more. She wanted to suffer endlessly for what she had done.
"I just wanted to make you happy."
Mukuro found herself looking at him, blinking at the tears in her eye and swallowing those that threatened to choke her.
He wanted to make her happy?
Though she had—
Everything she did—
And she was nothing—
Hiei wanted to make her happy?
But it hurt again, terribly, blindingly. He had done all this and she had destroyed it all.
They were . . . ruined.
"You have made me happy," she lamented. "You have . . . I . . ."
She had wanted him. But she had wanted it to be right. Now it never could be, her heart said.
It was over.
"You cry too much," he said bluntly, stepping closer to her, seeming to test the nearness.
"Idiot." His voice was soft. "I thought that I would never be able to speak to you again." His nose grazed her jaw, gently. "Stay," he said. "Stay with me."
Mukuro wanted nothing more than to give in—to be close to him and feel safe. But she couldn't.
She felt disgusted and appalled and so deeply pained at everything that she couldn't stand it. Her entire body trembled at the weight of it all.
Her legs gave way and she sank to the ground, taking him with her—though a part of her wanted him to release her, she couldn't bear to imagine that he might let go of her hand. Let go of her, forever.
She gripped his hand just as tightly—selfishly. She couldn't stop herself. Maybe he would forgive her, even if she didn't deserve it.
If she couldn't be forgiven, she had no reason left worth living for.
"Don't . . . don't stop talking," she breathed, finding that she craved his warmth more than ever before. "I don't want to think anymore."
"Then stop," he said simply. "Pull your head out of your ass. That tramp wasn't you, so stop thinking about her and what she did." He shifted closer to her and loosened his grip on her, aligning their palms.
She could tell that he was tired, and she wanted to give in to his words, but she couldn't.
He didn't understand. He didn't know—that some things she had done were things that she, in some way, had wanted to happen. How could she say that it was someone else?
I love you.
She didn't know what she was at all anymore.
Mukuro shook her head, lowering it into her other hand.
He couldn't see that, and she had no idea how she could possibly make him understand. It was hard enough for her to even think on.
That thing had just fed on her desires. It had shown her for the beast she truly was.
For a long time, neither of them said anything.
Then he spoke again.
"I . . . tried to tell you." He seemed to be focusing very hard on forming each word. "But I couldn't . . . didn't know how . . . or . . ." he trailed off, touching the top of her hair.
Mukuro didn't know what to think—his words didn't make sense pieced together.
But something inside of her was suddenly, instinctively terrified.
She raised her head just enough to see him, to try to untangle what he was saying to her, but as the silence only stretched on, she finally asked him, voice soft and muddled from the tears, "Tell me what?"
Immediately, he withdrew his hand and turned away.
"I . . ." He visibly swallowed. "Can't you understand? Don't you . . ." He turned back to her. "Don't you know what you mean to me?"
Mukuro's eye filled with tears again—the emotion threatened to crush her.
This didn't feel right. He couldn't really be saying this to her, like this.
"Hiei . . . I can't—" she whimpered, desperate to find something to quell this horrible ache in her chest—she wanted to accept him, to make everything right. But how?
How could he continue to feel the same after what she was about to tell him?
"Not everything I did . . . was a lie," she admitted. "I meant . . . what . . . I said to you before."
Were these words really leaving her lips?
"But if that's true, what about the other things I did? How do I know what I really meant to do or not? I'm—I'm so scared that I don't know that—bloodthirsty whore—wasn't really who I am. What I did—" she cut off, unable to continue, squeezing her eye shut.
He was quiet again, but somehow she could sense that he was watching her, and somehow that made it worse.
"Don't tell me who you are," he said, and she could hear the scowl in his voice. "I already know who you are." He paused. "And I love every insufferable piece of you."
Mukuro's heart burst.
There was no way that she could fathom the words, and yet they seeped into her skin—into her veins—with more clarity than any words ever had in her whole life.
Because she trusted him, because she believed in him, more than anything she had ever known—and these words . . .
His words could be nothing short of real.
Mukuro tried not to cry, and her body simply curled around his hand, pulling it as near to her heart as she could.
He wanted her. And she wanted him, so, so much.
She breathed in sharply and looked up at him, fighting the tide of emotions. "I need you," she sighed, unfurling her hand from his to touch his face. "I love you, too."
Angling his head to her touch, Hiei closed his eyes, mouth lingering at her palm and hand pressed with finality where she had placed it against her chest.
He caught her arm in his hands and felt the scar running lengthwise from the inside of her wrist.
"We should rest," he murmured against her skin.
Mukuro nodded in agreement but simply sat for a moment, reveling in their embrace, before she pushed herself to her feet. As he fumbled to his, she remembered suddenly how hurt he was, and neared him without thought to provide support as they traveled down the hall.
She wanted to forget for a while the reasons she might be afraid. She wanted to forget about the pain and the past just long enough to find comfort and rest with him.
Mukuro pried open the door of Hiei's unused room and together they eased onto the bed.
Lying safely with him was as instinctual as her paranoia and anger had been—something she couldn't question, but simply know that there were boundless good reasons for.
She reached out to touch him—she wanted to—but shied away.
Maybe things would look better in a while.