What Runs Deeper

a fanfiction by andrivette and psychoheidi

chapter thirteen
"Moving Forward"

She was holding together, because that was what she needed to do.

She felt safer there. She had no reason to be angry at herself, or feel at all, so she kept herself busy. There was less room for thought there. Less reason for him—

No. No him. Only her. She was good at this. She was good at leaving things behind. Moving forward.

She had no reason to stay behind.

Mukuro stepped into Shigure's lab, and there Kirin was. He seemed happy to see her.

She regarded him stoically.

"Kirin," she addressed him. "I want you to come patrol with me."

"Of course, my lord," he said, bowing his head slightly. "How many of your men should I gather?"

"None," she said. Then Mukuro simply turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kirin to do nothing but follow.

They walked a considerable time in silence, but then Mukuro said, "I spoke to the messengers from Enki and the nearby patrol unit. I told them that we were taken with an illness. That is what you should confirm if you ever speak to them."

"Yes, my lord," he said, and they continued walking.

—.—

The two of them stood on the patrol vehicle when Mukuro said, "I didn't mean for things to happen the way they did."

"Of course not, my lord," he replied from where he stood dutifully beside her. "Nobody would have wished for any of it to happen."

Something in his presence—maybe in the way he still called her his lord—softened her just barely.

She shifted, fingers lacing in front of her.

"Kirin," she spoke gently. "How do you feel about it?"

"I am . . . relieved that it has ended and that there were few casualties. And that you were not one of them, my lord."

When he said that, for the briefest moment, Mukuro thought she wished that she was.

Kirin was not nearly as affected by this as Mukuro and Hiei had been. He had less on his mind, and that was less for Mukuro to attach to. Yet it was only a minuscule comfort.

"We were lucky," she replied. She didn't mean it.

"Yes," Kirin agreed. "There were moments that I was certain that none of us would see the end of it. I am . . . thankful that I was wrong." He paused. "You've fought too hard to be bested by a mere insect."

He was right. She had beaten it.

She had won, and things should have been well, but they were not. Mukuro did not want to think because she, again, felt like a fool. She was not sure whether she was angry at Hiei or not because she was not sure whether he was right to make her feel so damnable for the emotions she had.

But she knew that the only way to fix it was to stop feeling—to go back to knowing that trying to place her thoughts in someone else was foolish.

She knew that was not what he wanted. Now, though, that was all she could do not to hate him and herself.

"I've been an idiot, Kirin," she told him. "I allowed what happened to hurt me. Now I'm suffering for it." The grip of her hands was hurting. "It's stupid to become involved."

He was the one who had made her feel safe enough, he was the one who had opened her up, and now the emotions she had slowly come to embrace needed to be shoved back in for him.

"It can be painful," he conceded. "But it is far easier to survive in this world knowing that you mean something to someone else."

She did not want to answer him. There was no good response—it would all be too much. She couldn't promise herself that she would try again. She had no good reason to believe that anything would be better, no matter how much it could or should have been.

She was not ready to open the door for more pain. For most of her life she had not been. She would rather destroy with that as her intent from the start—then she could not regret it.

"Relationships with allies aren't the same as those one has with their opponents," he continued after a time. "In battle, a fighter aims to protect their vulnerabilities and hide their motives, while with their comrades they would do just the opposite." She saw him watching her from the corner of her eye.

"But if I may say so, my lord, I also find both circumstances strikingly similar. Even someone with great skill and power will find himself at the mercy of an unworthy opponent if he is driven by fear and doubt, and those same feelings will only serve to kill a disadvantaged fighter more quickly. Only those with the passion and tenacity to pick themselves back up despite the pain will eventually earn their victory."

—.—

Mukuro could not sleep.

What Kirin had said to her earlier that day had made her think—and it made her wish to stop fighting.

There were so many things that she did not know. She could not know how Hiei felt and what he thought of her before and now. She could not know if the two of them were even capable of being close without having to battle each other in fists or in words.

But she did know that she wanted to know—that she needed to know.

She wanted to change. She wanted to fight what was wrong, as she had never truly done before. To fight for what she wanted for herself despite the bad, as she had never thought she could do.

It could not simply be over. Not after everything they had said and done—not after knowing that it was her own simple fear that had caused more pain for them.

She hadn't the faith to trust him or herself, and she wanted that he could fix it, but he could not do anything more than be himself.

Mukuro fell into sleep when one of her pillows was in millions of shreds and strewn around her.

—.—

She woke when she felt him next to her.

She knew before she was even awake that it was him. She could never mistake him—his silence, and the way he would lay next to her.

He was here.

Mukuro was still for a moment, simply allowing herself to revel in the fact that he was beside her.

Then she turned to him, and she turned him to her.

Mukuro tugged at the cloth covering his third eye, and it regarded her almost curiously. She looked at him.

Her thoughts were fractured, burning with a myriad of images and emotions even as she attempted to speak clearly to him.

I was afraid. I've been afraid.

I was afraid to trust, and afraid to admit that to you. I've been afraid, now, to show you what I feel.

It seems like most everything I do is because I'm afraid of something.

But it was not that way with you. I simply wanted to be with you—I have always wanted that. I wanted to see if, maybe, we could stop fearing and stop defending.

I did not want to fear you.

But then this happened, and now I don't think I know for sure what I am anymore. I worried I have changed into that thing—or I worried that maybe that was who I've always been. I worried that even if it wasn't, that is what you would see in me.

I wanted to give in, but there was too much I couldn't know that you really did believe and I couldn't be happy with that.

I needed to know, and I had no idea how—I've come apart.

I'm probably lost on you now.

Her face burned.

But I could promise to stop. I could stop caring about what I am, and what I feel, because I know—it destroys everything.

She knew what she was thinking was wrong, but it couldn't end. He could see it all now—all her frustration and anger and desire to simply never see him look at her that way again.

As if they were hopeless.

But that's not what I want. The more I try to change, the more I'll only hate us both. I want you to know me and reject me if you have to. But I can't go without knowing, and without you knowing, anymore.

That's all. . . . You can sleep now.

But he lay there frozen, his breathing labored.

"No!" he finally shouted, voice strained. "Don't hide from me."

Then he sank again into the Jagan's connection, and his thoughts echoed clearly in her mind.

I want all of you, he said to her. I'm just so tired of us having to worry.

I'm tired, too, she told him. I'm tired of being afraid. Because what that means is that I doubted you. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I want to be with you now, no matter what happens. Mukuro leaned to him and she kissed him. I hope you can forgive me.

Hiei accepted her kiss and then drew back, regarding her warily. Cautiously, his hand found her waist, and he studied her face through the darkness. Be certain.

Mukuro could feel his apprehension now, feel his thoughts, and she knew that she was the cause. She had confused him beyond belief, he told her, but he didn't blame her.

Despite her intense desire to change his worry, regretting ever having doubted him, something about his concern assured her that she was ready.

She watched him for several moments.

I swear, she told him, and because she felt that she, for once, truly meant it, she could not help but smile.

"I was—"

I was afraid, too, he told her. It feels empty without you.

He pulled her into his arms.

"It's all right now, Mukuro," he said, and buried his face in her neck.

From nowhere, his words—all of them—felt as if they were cracking a layer around Mukuro that she had not known she had wrapped about herself, and the reasons for regret and surety disappeared.

She did not want to be told to fix it.

She had only wanted to know that it was okay that she did not know how.

That it was okay that she was flawed—that she might hurt for a long time.

The tears clung to her eyelashes.

"Would it be okay to tell you that I'm not all right?" she asked him, her hands—unusually cold—finding his back. "That I need you?"

"Tell me anything," he whispered, pressing his body closer. "Tell me what you want me to do."