Stockholm Syndrome
Title inspired by: Muse – Stockholm Syndrome
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR.
Author's Note:
Does anyone remember when Mafia had actually something to do with Italy rather than Japan (besides Yakuza)? Me neither.
My heartfelt thanks to Mayumi del Procella, xSkywires, KHR LOVER, Papiermoon, P3achi3, Merisela and, of course, BloodyroseWinter
Thanks for reading. I truly appreciate it!
The news reported on a hostage falling for her kidnapper and Chrome had to laugh because she thought that was really, really stupid. She recalled what Hibari-san had told her and nodded her head in silent agreement.
Love was for the weak.
Seven days had passed.
The symptoms disappeared and yet the loneliness remained.
Over the whole last week, Chrome had locked herself up, ignoring all the incoming calls, neglecting the dreadful bell. She rarely ate, a mechanism developed over the years (long before being Chrome) in moments of desperation. And despite her lack of eating, there was still constant nausea and, sometimes, she found herself sitting in front of the toilet because her rebelling (not) stomach plundered the rest of her existing energy. Wondering but not caring had become her motto.
Those crystal tears came and went and time passed. Her world was like a kaleidoscope. Colourful. Vertigo.
And just now, she was hiding herself, just like the coward she was, in a world of illusions. Various shades of grey imbruing endless plains of grass and the despondent heaven above. The small pond was almost a light silver and the water leaked at her bare feet, cold and refreshing.
She sighed.
Her dress, once given by Mukuro-sama, wasn't limestone white anymore. She preferred it to be tainted with a dirty grey, because her weak will wasn't strong enough to colour it a raven black (a basic fear, she couldn't face the reminder of his hair). Long ago, her then saviour had given her various images of strong, flourishing trees but now they were withering, dying a mute, illusionary death, and the used-to-be green grass was dry and burnt, crumbling and fading under the feather light touches of her fingertips.
There was nothing worth reading and she despised the smiling face on TV. Instead, she was focusing on the yesterdays because living in the past was so much easier than facing the future.
The loud, distant roar of a thunder boomed through her world and she shrieked in surprise, accidentally ripping her own illusion apart and bringing her back to the small, yet cosy (not to mention fucking dark and empty) apartment. She lamented the fact that even sounds from the outer (and she refused to acknowledge the word "real") world were able to penetrate her refuge of mirages, those fragile Fata Morganas she created.
Opening one eye, she perceived the vague silhouettes of her furniture. The small commode, the bed.
Otherwise, there was nothing but complete darkness. It covered the room, the lights were switched off and the French window the only source of light. The female sat on her bed, trying to refocus on the grey landscape but found it difficult due to the raging storm.
She gave up and lied down on her back, staring at the ceiling which was shortly illuminated by lightning.
Drifting in between consciousness and sleep, she slipped her eye shut but was wide awake upon hearing a vigorous knock.
She grumbled and turned around, trying desperately to ignore it. The visitor was stubborn. Consternation gnawed at her patience and she finally decided to give up and face the adamant person. Nearly tearing the door open, she stared at the intruder with a mixture of shock, confusion and a tiny little bit of hope. Because Boss was her family. Boss was everything.
He, on the contrary, was hesitant, standing in front of her with a sheepish grin.
"We've been worried." Almost an accusation.
"It wasn't my intention." Defence.
He sighed. Chrome pulled a face but stepped aside to let him in. Following her into the living room, he sat down on a zabuton.
"Sorry."
Raising a questioning eyebrow, she waited for him to continue.
"I should have come earlier. But there have been some uproars recently. That new family's making a real commotion."
She tilted her head to the side.
"The Mareggiata famiglia? Hibari-san brought the folder."
A weird expression was crossing his features as he ground the heels of his hands against his eye sockets, obviously stressed.
"Yeah. These guys are surely a handful."
"Are you worried?"
The Sky looked her straight into the eye, considering her question and contemplating the answer.
"I have difficulties to evaluate the position. They're brazenly inscrutable. And yet... I can't act too rash either, not after the Italian occurrence."
He was palpably referring to Xanxus. Running his hand through the cinnamon thatch of his, Tsunayoshi seemed to be exhausted.
"But that's not the reason for my visit. Sorry, I didn't mean to get off the track. Most importantly: How are you?"
His hand rested on her petite shoulder and she tensed up under his touch, startled by its abruptness.
"I'm fine," Chrome answered in a perfect, learned manner.
"It's kinda hard to believe that, actually. Chrome, look. You're horribly pale and I doubt even you remember the last time you had a proper meal. I don't want to hassle. On the other hand, you didn't even bother to pick up the phone last week."
"I-I didn't like the thought of troubling anyone."
He chuckled.
"We're family. There is no such a thing as trouble for us. Well, Xanxus is trouble but that's beside the point."
She smiled ever so lightly and he relaxed a little. Another thunderbolt rippled through the firmament and Tsunayoshi stood up.
"Oh, I almost forgot. There's a meeting tomorrow. Around lunch time, inside luogo dell'esecuzione. And Chrome," he declared, "Don't forget. You can call me any time and always."
He strolled towards the entrance but stopped when he felt a little tug on the hem of his shirt. Whirling around, he found Chrome staring at the floor, her small hand holding onto the fabric of his top.
"Thank you."
The taller man cracked a smile.
"However, Lambo-kun was right. You may not make a good boss," the smile faded and he seemed truly taken aback, "But you're a wonderful onii-sama."
Flattered, he left the small apartment.
Luogo dell'esecuzione was an established Italian restaurant in the centre of Namimori-shi. Its popularity had nothing to do with the delicious meals or the foreign atmosphere but the rather famous/infamous connection to the Mafia milieu. Of course, it had been Reborn, who had introduced them to the place and, eventually, it had become Vongola's rendezvous point. It wasn't very striking or flamboyant from the outside, residing just in between a pachinko hall and an udon restaurant. Unlike the exterior expression, the inside, however, was extravagant and equipped with premium furniture, walls adorned with crested wood panelling and home-made oils and pesto lining the counter.
A shiver crawled over Chrome's skin, causing goosebumps to appear. Leaving the cold streets behind, she entered the welcoming warmth of the establishment, looking around for her famiglia.
"-ing stubborn. Because a 'no' is a 'no' and I don't see why I should elaborate my reasons. Especially not to you, Mukuro."
"Are you questioning Juudaime's decision, bastard?"
"I'm not questioning his decision, I'm questioning his sanity!"
"Sawada Tsunayoshi, let the herbivore go. Consider yourself lucky if he dies."
"Haha, that's not a good argument. You just want to see him fail, Hibari."
"Precisely."
"I agree! Desperate times call for extreme measures!"
"That's 'drastic measures', lawn head!"
"Yare yare, what's the difference anyway? I mea- ouch! Stop it, Gokudera-san, you're hurti- OUCH!"
"Then stop meddling, brat!"
"Are you two crowding me?"
It wasn't exactly hard to detect them, all she had to do was following the high-pitched screams and the constant bickering.
The family was seated in the far back, almost hidden in their regular booth. She bowed down slightly, apologizing for being late (by custom) and Rain was more than willing to make some space for her. Sitting down, she eyed the others, her purple dress accidentally riding up a bit earning interested glances from the males. Yamamoto simply grinned at her (she gave him credit for not staring at her thighs) and she smiled back (because she didn't know how to react otherwise). The previous argument arose once more.
"Mukuro, I said no! And that settles the case," Tsunayoshi warned, tone low and threatening. The Italian sneered in response but ultimately kept his mouth shut. Chrome turned towards the man next to her.
"What's going on?"
"Mukuro wants to gather information about two hostile famiglie and another one with a questionable sense of loyalty. However, the snitcher refuses to leave Italy. Hence Mukuro's eagerness to fly to Italy himself," Yamamoto explained, eyebrows arched.
She nodded and decided to focus her attention on the trim waiter, young and inexperienced, who was heading towards their booth. Bestowing a lovely smile upon him, she ordered a light acquacotta and spaghetti alle vongole even though her appetite was absent as usual. The others were busy making their respectively orders and all of the sudden, there was a gingerly tap on her shoulder. Turning around warily, she spotted the Sun on the right, blissful happiness written all over his face.
"... Yes?"
His grin broadened.
"I heard the extreme news. Congratulations. So... are you thinking about marriage?"
Entirely aghast, her mouth fell open and she gasped like a goldfish, an adorable, rosy blush creeping over her cheeks.
"P-pardon?"
Her reaction surprised him and he chocked on his own saliva, flailed his arms around and watched her with primness. Eventually, he brought his one-man show to an end and positioned his hands in front of his chest in a somewhat soothing manner.
"Err... sorry... is it too soon? I just thought... well, you know... since everybody's talking about you two and he's kinda... ," he rambled on.
"T-talking about us? Y-you know what happened?"
Groaning, he palmed his forehead.
"Should have kept my mouth shut from the beginning," he mourned, "Sawada told us."
Boss knew?
Chrome watched the water in her glass, fingers curling around the thin stem and a sudden urge to stir its contents arose. A diminutive whirlpool formed and bedewed the rim, small pearls of transparent fluid glinting in the artificial light of the restaurant. She inclined her head, peering at the moist spots on the tablecloth.
Neither of them knew that they were talking about two different men.
"It's nothing," she finally admitted and, "It won't happen again."
Sasagawa-san's lips formed the perfect shape of an "oh" and he faced away from her, abruptly intend on conversing with Lambo-kun and a very, very reluctant Hibari-san. Yamamoto-san gave her a level look. The look. Telling her that there was something for him to know and for her to find out. She wanted to answer his silent challenge but the waiter appeared and their food was served. Glimpsing shortly at the other family members, her sight alternated between her soup and his arrosto di maiale.
"Yamamoto-san."
He guided the fork towards his mouth and made a small noise of acknowledgement, assuring her that he was listening.
"Just now there seemed to be something you wanted to say?"
Observing the silver cutlery (he presumably preferred chopsticks), he exhaled saliently and cast her a connoting oblique glance.
"You're being watched."
And she squinted her eye and raised her head to survey the narrowed place. Mukuro-sama was sitting opposite from her and she met the stare of his heterochromatic eyes. Scolding herself, she re-devoted herself to the man on her left.
"Mukuro-sama?" Barely a whisper.
The knife cut easily through the meat and Yamamoto-san dipped the truncated piece in the red wine sauce.
"Actually, I was referring to Namimori's Kerberos."
The female was honestly astonished but wasn't able to see the mentioned person due to the limited view the eye patch provided. A small accusation formed inside her pretty head, questioning his intentions and wondering if the seating arrangement had been a deliberate choice of his but there was no proof whatsoever and she was inclined to give him the benefit of doubt.
"He won't bite me. I never crossed Styx," she added, "Hence there's not need to fear the aconite-spitting beast." *
"I wouldn't be so sure about it," advised the swordsman and pierced a roasted tomato with his fork. He was much smarter than he let on and it was an inhuman task to read his merry character. Sighing, Chrome exchanged her half-eaten soup with the spaghetti. Another realisation hit her when she registered that Mukuro-sama was still monitoring her every move.
This meeting is no fun, was her conclusion.
She chose to ignore him bluntly and closed her eye, pushing the spaghetti-covered spoon into her mouth. The rich, tangy taste turned into something bitter and the haunting, nauseating feeling inside her stomach resurfaced. Letting go of her eating utensil (it fell down with a loud noise, drawing unwanted attention to its owner), she clammed a hand over her mouth and stood up alarmed.
She rushed to the bathroom as fast as she could and fortunately managed to make it in time.
"Are you still sick?" exclaimed Boss upon entering the woman's lavatory. Over the years, he had started to walk with a confidence that didn't allow to be questioned and he offered her a wet, cold handkerchief.
"I don't know. It happens at times."
She was leaning against the toilet, her back bent in an uncomfortable posture and he knelt down in front of her, his cool palm resting on her damp forehead.
"No fever," he stated, "Are there any other symptoms?"
She shook her head.
The door opened once more and Yamamoto-san and Mukuro-sama accessed the marble room, swiftly followed by the Storm.
"She's pale," commented the latter, crouched down next to his leader and his fingers on her chin, tilting her head to the side to gain a better view. "I think she needs to see a doctor or something." He cleared his throat. "Not Shamal, though."
"I'll take her to the hospital."
An uncharacteristically silences followed.
Tsunayoshi raised a sceptical eyebrow and his right-hand man set his mouth into a wary line. Even the Rain crossed his arms in front of the chest and furrowed his brows, wryly. Mukuro-sama laughed.
"Now, come on. It's not like my presence is actually required and I won't disappear to take the next flight to Italy either."
The brunette Vongola heir gave her a bland smile.
"Chrome?"
The illusionist nodded and raised from her knees, elbows steadied by Sky and Storm. The other Mist offered her his arm and she reluctantly accepted the proposal, indisposition and hesitation clearly evident on her features. He led her through the restaurant and they passed the occupied booth of the Vongola to collect her purse. Chrome didn't fail to notice the sinister glint in Hibari's eyes. Neither did Mukuro-sama.
"Take care."
Tsunayoshi handed her the black bag and Gokudera-san resumed his seat, explaining the situation to the ones who had stayed at the table. The duo stepped out of the building and a cold breeze swept past them, making Chrome shiver. The male's hand was gentle and warm when it took hers.
"Don't worry."
Her lone eye focused on the concrete.
"It's just nausea. There is no need to worry," she felt compelled to point that out. His reply was a shake of the head.
"About me. Us."
"You left. I'm not in the position to demand anything. Our connection was built on benefit, convenience and ability." She craved to add trust but bit her tongue to prevent it from slipping.
"You atoned for my wrongs."
Chrome giggled and was all of a sudden reminiscent of aconite-filled cities and hounds of hell.
"I learned to make my own mistakes."
If he was surprised by her answer, he didn't show it but instead raised his hand and hailed the next cab. A yellow Nissan Crew stopped a few seconds later, paint plastered with a large red stripe and the weird globular-shaped taxi sign on the car roof.
Their mutual placidity remained during the ride, the female closed her eye and enjoyed the soft humming of the vehicle and her male companion watched the people on the streets.
The waiting room was horrifying crowded with bawling children, desperate mothers and gruff seniors and yet Chrome felt grateful for not being forced to consult Shamal. Mukuro-sama made a displeased noise but she couldn't care less.
A man sat down next to her and patently wanted to talk to her (or maybe just to somebody; anybody). And he was nice and sweet and obviously affected by the Alzheimer's disease for he narrated the same story over and over again. Her name was called and she felt truly relieved.
"Do you want me to accompany you?" lilted the Italian.
"I'm a big girl." And with that, she left him behind and followed the white-clad nurse into one of the blinding white examination rooms.
Her surroundings were lucid and sterile, disinfectants burning sharp in her nostrils and the scarcely perceptible droning of electricity hanging in the air. And soon was her previous relief replaced by anxiety. After Nagi's traumatic accident and some other memorable incidents as a member of the Mafia, the Mist had developed a cryptic phobia of doctors and hospitals. Normally, she tried to avoid them at any cost.
… because saving Nagi wasn't worth it and nobody...
However, she considered herself lucky when a mature woman in her late fifties entered the room. She had a graceful smile on her face, the grey hair was up in a loose bun and she introduced herself as Kawayoshi-sensei.
"Hello darling. How may I help you?"
The pleasant, debonair behaviour caught Chrome off guard and she broke down, informations pouring out of her mouth. Insomnia, nausea, vertigo. She described her anomalous anxiousness and the doctor was listening, eyes twinkling with a hint of mirth and knowledge from years of practice.
"I want to check your blood pressure and your weight. Besides that, I fear there isn't much I can do for you."
A single violet eye widened in confusion.
The lady grinned at her reassuringly, cheeks rosy and crinkling.
"Sweetheart, you're far from ill. You're pregnant."
The world stopped spinning and her breath was caught in her throat. Trembling, she placed a shaky hand flat against her equally slim stomach. But she couldn't feel anything.
"Are you sure?"
Kawayoshi-sensei winked at her.
"Tell me, dear. Have you had sex recently? Unprotected?"
"Yes," she had to concede.
"And you're suffering from morning sickness?"
Again, affirmative.
"You're also depressed. Quite common during pregnancy."
She listed a few symptoms, insomnia and absence of appetite and Chrome's eye was almost popping out of its restraint.
Pregnancy.
Her breath was released.
The world started to turn once more.
"Looking at your distressed expression, I assume this must be a shock for you but that's why there are condoms and other contraceptives. Now, it's too late for preaching and I can give you only so much medical advise. But there is other help, I coul-," she paused and examined her interlocutor, "You do want to keep the child, don't you?"
And the Guardian lifted her head, dark locks spilling over her shoulders and lips pressed together painfully.
"No."
The doctor was noticeably troubled, her shoulders dropped. "I-I see... well, then you ought to have a consulting about abortion first. I-I guess it's better now than having a child you never wanted."
...and nobody wanted her anyway.
The disappointment was practically audible.
"Rash decisions are often followed by enduring regret."
And Chrome laughed.
"This advice is by far the most genuine and truest thing I heard lately. Sadly enough, it's much too late to be considered."
...because saving Nagi wasn't worth it and nobody wanted her anyway; the distant ring of a long forgotten voice.
She walked out of the room and saw Mukuro-sama who had waited for her. There was candid interest in his eyes and she simply sighed.
"So?"
"It's ridiculous."
"How come?"
She refused to answer and he wasn't keen on prying. Her mind was filled with fragments of thoughts and yet empty like the void. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Her pregnancy being at the top of the list. There was a tacit consent between the illusionists and Mukuro-sama escorted her home.
Her small apartment was freezing cold, just like the temperature outside (and probably her heart, too) and the man rigged up her old kotatsu which had been hidden in one of her wall units. The woman placed a bowl of tangerines on the surface and buried her legs under the covers of the futon, heat warming her limbs.
She fumbled with her fingers.
"Mukuro-sama, what is love?"
He scratched the back of his head and peeled one of the fruits.
"Do you think I'm the right person to ask?"
"I was just wondering... since I believe I've fallen for someone."
There was a plopping noise when the tangerine segments fell from his hands, landing unceremoniously onto the kotatsu. He cleared his throat, regained his countenance and collected the fruit bites in his palm.
"So, who's the lucky one?"
The light from the ceiling lamp reflected in Chrome's eye and her pupil constricted, glinting with suspicion. She had trusted him before and was rewarded with empty dreams and false hope.
Once bitten, twice shy.
But there had been a bond before and she was, though only occasionally, wearing the pineapple-inspired hairstyle, so:
"I don't want to lie to you."
"Therefore you prefer to say nothing at all?" and, "I see."
He stuffed a segment into his mouth and reached out for her, hand dangerously close to her cheek but he recoiled simultaneously as the firm, angry rapping on the door started. She evaded Mukuro-sama's unspoken questions and wandered over the tatami mats of her living room and the wooden floor of her entrance area towards the constant knocking. Her hand made contact with the frigid door knob and she twisted it around. Almost immediately, the door burst open and collided with a nearby side table, knocking the telephone and a purse on the ground in progress.
The purse's contents were scattered all over the floor and Chrome found herself pressed against the wall, caught in a rough, mind-blowing kiss.
Her captor placed his hands on her waist, giving it a determined squeeze. Gasping in shock, the female opened her mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to enter.
Lazy footsteps emerged from the living room and Mukuro-sama's voice called her, questioning the identity of the newcomer. He entered the tiny entrance area and froze.
"Cazzo!" muttered the man, disbelief inhibiting further communication. He gulped clearly audible before another incredulous cuss left his lips. "What the fuck... ," he tried again, "I mean... What. The. Fuck. What the hell are you doing, Hibari-kun?"
The Cloud detached himself from his (traumatized) victim and started at the male Mist, his features perplexed as if he was trapped in an ambush. Even his eyes were somewhat wider and Chrome's messed up mind noted that she had never seen him like this before.
He looked downright confused.
A low growl escaped from his throat and he turned around harshly, door slamming shut behind him. Mukuro-sama wasn't of sound mind either. His brain was still processing the witnessed scene and his face lit up when the truth dawned upon him.
"Did he just... kiss you? ...Non se ne parla! YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM?"
Blushing, she urged him towards the door.
"I think it's better if you're leaving..." because she needed time to clear her head and to sort out her distracting feelings.
"You're throwing me out after THAT SCENE?"
"He has lost his mind. I was like that the other day, too."
He was almost in the hall when he blinked and faced her again.
"Dear Chrome, you can have other. Why are you so intent on catching a bird?"
She simpered and closed the door. The Mist staggered back into her bedroom and slumped into the soft cushions. Delicate fingers flitted upwards, touching the sensitive skin of her lips and body curling into a hunched up position. Her forehead bumped against her knees.
Actually, Chrome had never been a good actress. She couldn't lie to save her life and nervousness took easily over her. But today had been different.
Was she really pregnant?
And Mukuro-sama didn't notice?
She laughed in amusement and cried sorrowful tears afterwards. Because she had fooled her once saviour and for the fact that love was for the weak.
And she was angry. The respect she had felt towards the Cloud had turned into love (additionally, without permission) and she blamed him since he had been the one touching her. Making her feel wanted.
For him, it was probably nothing more than a one-night-stand. Whereas for her...
Stupid, stupid Chrome. After all, she, too, was that kind of person. She would rather fall for the kidnapper than for the hero.
Because love was for the weak. And she considered herself to be the weakest of them all.
Additional information:
* "He won't bite me. I never crossed Styx." - Basically, Chrome's saying that Hibari is not interested in her and she "failed" to make him fall in love.
"Hence there's not need to fear the aconite-spitting beast." - Aconite-spitting refers to the legend that the poisonous aconite plant arose from Cerberus' foam dripping on the ground. Just another part of the aconite theme.
Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated.