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damned_institute2009-09-14 11:35 pm
superdynamic.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-09-14 11:35 pm
Nightshift 43: Outside the Institute -- East
[from here]
Suzaku stayed abreast of Yuffie as they skirted the northeast corner of the building and struck out into the darkness. It would be hard to keep track of their direction in this mist, without being able to see the stars or anything, but he was fairly confident the two of them could handle it. He had a decent sense of direction, and she'd given the impression of being familiar with this kind of terrain.
For the main part, he was keeping his attention divided between not tripping over rocks or walking into trees, and keeping eyes and ears out for anything suspicious. So far he wasn't seeing anything like what had been happening in the Institute, but it might only be a matter of time. And who knew what else was out there? He felt awfully uncomfortable wandering around blind like this, like a sitting duck. Especially in a forest, with the fog to dampen sound and the trees and darkness to hide an approaching enemy, anything could attack at any moment.
As much as Suzaku wanted to focus on their current surroundings, however, something had been bothering him. "How do we know which way is North, anyway? Is it just a guess, or did someone figure it out?" One of those people who were good at math and astronomy and things, maybe.
Suzaku stayed abreast of Yuffie as they skirted the northeast corner of the building and struck out into the darkness. It would be hard to keep track of their direction in this mist, without being able to see the stars or anything, but he was fairly confident the two of them could handle it. He had a decent sense of direction, and she'd given the impression of being familiar with this kind of terrain.
For the main part, he was keeping his attention divided between not tripping over rocks or walking into trees, and keeping eyes and ears out for anything suspicious. So far he wasn't seeing anything like what had been happening in the Institute, but it might only be a matter of time. And who knew what else was out there? He felt awfully uncomfortable wandering around blind like this, like a sitting duck. Especially in a forest, with the fog to dampen sound and the trees and darkness to hide an approaching enemy, anything could attack at any moment.
As much as Suzaku wanted to focus on their current surroundings, however, something had been bothering him. "How do we know which way is North, anyway? Is it just a guess, or did someone figure it out?" One of those people who were good at math and astronomy and things, maybe.
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… This wasn't working. Yuffie was a master of being inappropriately flippant, but no matter what she did or what she thought, she couldn't quite banish the vision of Aerith from her mind. Or my eyes, she added silently, catching another flicker of pink out of the corner of her eye. Her whole body was as tense as a wound spring. But she had to focus; Suzaku was probably out of his element here, and sloppiness on her part would be three kinds of inexcusably bad. "Some people have their own methods," she murmured back, voice low. "I worked out from the directions I was given a while back, and then I just. Y'know. Slipped something into a conversation with Plucky--er, my nurse--to confirm."
It looked like they were hitting the tree-line of the forest proper. A good few paces--in other words, out of lunging distance--away from it, Yuffie made a few mental notes of direction and distance, before nudging Suzaku lightly to turn him. Incidentally, she was the one who ended up on the side closest to the forest. "This way now."
A few beats slipped by. The trees, what could be seen of them through the gloom, were withered and gnarled things, growing thick and weaving close together. She chewed her lip, adjusting her grip on her shuriken. "You've never done this before, have you?" Her speech-patterns, and her tone, were relaxing again. "With forests, I mean. You're all jittery."
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"That's smart," he said, referring to tricking her nurse into saying something. He'd never be able to do anything like that, and they didn't respond to flat-out questioning. Although, maybe -- maybe Euphie would be able to get something out of them. He was sure she could get through to the nurses in a way he himself had forgotten. After all, he hadn't even tried, had he? If only she knew what he had become. . .
Dragging his mind from such thoughts, Suzaku focused once again on his surroundings. "Not with all this fog, in the dark." He frowned. How could Yuffie not be nervous in a situation like this? "Not with something weird following us and God-knows-what out here. We're really --"
Suzaku trailed off suddenly, noticing that the air was no longer so still. It sounded almost like a faint breeze whistling, moaning through the trees, but he couldn't feel anything -- only hear it. Or maybe, maybe it was more like a voice. . . Surely he was imagining things. "Really vulnerable," he finished, trying to stay calm. He was jittery, like Yuffie had said, and a breeze might easily sound like a human voice, but -- he swore he could distinguish words. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
"It'll be fine. . . Please believe in me." Suzaku whirled around, staring wide-eyed into the dark, empty spaces between the sinister tree trucks. He recognized that voice, how could he not? It felt like a dagger in his chest every time he heard it. A voice he'd wished with all his heart to hear again, and probably never should have. And still just a whisper, but the words were intelligible enough. They were something she might have said at any time, something she might have said earlier that day in fact, but something about them --
"Suzaku. . ." Suzaku choked, the pain in his chest tightening. "You're Japanese, right?" Her voice was stronger now, and certainly not a breeze. It was like she was just beyond those tree trunks, but for some reason he couldn't take a step, rooted to the ground in terror. And that was how it had been the whole time, wasn't it? He couldn't get to her fast enough, he wasn't strong enough, capable enough -- whatever she said, he wasn't trustworthy, and she shouldn't have believed in him.
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"Stay alert, but don't let the nerves get to you. Rookie mistakes happen most often when--"
"--Alright?"
Yuffie broke off sharply. For a second there, she could've sworn that those anguished noises had taken another detour through Familiar Avenue. Not the poor suckers from Junon, kidnapped and slaughtered, but… like something, something close but half-forgotten; three years was a long time, no matter furiously it whipped by.
She knew, though. She knew that voice.
The recognition knocked the wind out of her, like some physical blow. Her legs tried to buckle, and automatically she checked her balance, gritting her teeth with the effort it took to stay on her own two feet. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. Butterflies danced in her stomach, nerves lanced up her spine, so acutely that it hurt. Wrapping an arm around herself, the tiny ninja backed into a nearby tree, sucking in a deep, greedy breath. What was--
"You're not planning something sneaky again, are you?" Aerith's voice, normally cordial at worst but now stained with suspicion--an unexpected guilt felt like a knife-twist in Yuffie's gut--sounded close enough to touch.
Panting for air, Yuffie shook her head and tried to focus. Her vision wavered, like it did when she stared at moving water for too long and made herself dizzy and nauseous. The butterflies - they'd invited all their friends, and they all had knives. Yuffie gagged, then coughed. She tasted blood. Discomfort was fading into agony, as she fought not to lose her grip on herself, and on the spin-tilt-revolving ground beneath her. Rough bark scraped at her skin, but there was some warmth... A weird, wet, uncomfortable warmth, centered at the small of her back and at her stomach.
"W-What is this…" she choked out.
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And everything else -- he didn't know why these memories were being replayed to him now, but he wasn't anywhere near thinking about logical reasons. Suzaku was slowly becoming aware that the tightness in his chest wasn't just pain from the memory of life draining from those eyes, that it was becoming less ethereal and more acute. Still, it factored little into his thoughts at that moment, because all he could think was Euphie. She was hurt, she was dying, and he couldn't find her, couldn't reach out to her -- he'd never found her in time. And no matter what he did, she would always die in the end.
He was dragged out of his own misery once again, however, by a sound near him. Suzaku looked around, half-expecting to see her reaching out to him, but in her place was Yuffie, crumpled against a tree. Suzaku felt hot shame at the realization that he'd almost forgotten about her, and she looked hurt. But, Euphie. . . He had to find her, but -- he'd come with Yuffie, and he couldn't abandon her. Not when she was curled up and obviously in pain, hurting the way she had been. And Yuffie was the one in front of him right now, the one he could help.
Suzaku rushed over to her, ignoring the burn in his own torso. "Yuffie, what's wrong? What's happening?" He fell to his knees at her side, putting a hand on her shoulder, and -- was that blood? Where the hell was it even coming from? Panic flooded Suzaku's senses at the familiar sight, and he didn't know what to do, didn't know how she could even have been wounded. He felt as helpless as he had then, too late and utterly useless, and she was going to die right in front of him, just like -- "Are the Japanese happy?" Euphie whispered in his ear, broken and hopeful -- just like her.
Everything was futile and unjust to the very end, over and over and over. . . He should be the one to die. Suzaku half-wished the throbbing near his heart would overtake him, but not before he could help Yuffie, because he had to help her. He had to. "Yuffie," he hissed insistently, desperately, and he wasn't really sure whose name he was saying.
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Sound and movement snapped some of her attention—beyond him, beyond the stepping stones, she could see them all; ghastly faces pale with shock, standing numb, some with hands on their weapons and some without. Their faces wavered and flickered in the water-light—back to the present. Somebody was calling her, hissing her name out frantically. Her head lolling, hair brushing against the hand on her shoulder, Yuffie blinked at him with clouded eyes. "Hi," she gurgled. "Don' lem'e go back 'sleep."
She fought for clarity, kicked and clawed for it with everything she had, though in reality her limbs and fingers only twitched sluggishly. It can't end this way, some fierce part of her insisted. This isn't right, this isn't fair—all of those faces, those people; one of them struck a chord so familiar it hurt. Was it… was it her? Was she seeing herself, young and scrawny and truly terrified for the first time in her life? Voices shouted for her - no, not for her. For Aerith.
And it hurt.
Something like panic lanced through her, raw panic against a growing tide of… tired, drifting sereni… Yuffie blinked hard, breath coming short and fast and shallow. Her midriff was blood-soaked and slick. She was no stranger to pain, or to injury. Fighting like she fought, they were like that close friends you never wanted to meet. But it'd never been like this before; it'd never felt so omnipresent and final, and she'd - she'd never been so powerless. Images were warring across her vision; she closed her eyes against them, flinching. The cold steel cutting through her was…
… She didn't want to feel this. L-Leviathan. I'm sorry, Aerith. She just wanted it to stop, even as she fought against it with everything she had.
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But Yuffie, she was -- was she dying too? Was everyone around him going to die while he stood there and did nothing? Her words terrified him, and he wasn't sure if she was even mentally there anymore. And the worst thing was that he didn't even know why! All he knew was that there was blood everywhere (again), and he was going to lose her and be all alone (again) to rot in his guilt. Frantically, Suzaku bundled the edge of Yuffie's jacket against the wound in her stomach, trying to stop the blood. But of course it was hopeless; everything he did was.
"Yuffie, please -- hold on. . ." He didn't know what else to say, but he needed to find some way to keep her with him. The same way he needed to find Euphie, reach out to her and hold her, keep her with him this time, stop it all from happening again -- but he couldn't really speak at this point, much less reach out. Because pain was lancing out from his chest, up his spine and down to his fingers and toes. He couldn't ignore it now, not when it was burning so white-hot his vision blurred. He felt strangely weak and light-headed all of a sudden, the world around him fading in and out. What the hell was happening to him?
Suzaku's shirt felt strangely wet, and when he drew one of his hands from Yuffie's wound to touch his own chest, it was too difficult to tell if the blood he felt was hers or. . . He looked down, and through a red haze he could see dark wetness seeping along the fabric of his shirt. Disbelievingly, his fingers explored the tear in the cloth and the wound underneath -- a bullet wound, he'd recognize it anywhere. He didn't recall getting shot. . . but it was hard to think much at all anymore, his mind fogged from blood loss and confusion.
Caring little for his own injury, Suzaku tried to return to his efforts at keeping Yuffie alive, but he couldn't focus. He was too dizzy and everything was too blurred, and as he leaned towards her he stumbled, forehead falling against the tree over her shoulder. Pathetic. . . it shouldn't matter what was happening to him, he should be able to keep his companions alive. . .
"I want to go to school," whispered the childlike voice through the fog, and her dying face was all he could see now. "Because I stopped halfway. . ." But he'd never been able to keep his companions alive, had he? Never been able to keep his promises.
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Images flickered about her, wavering like mirages. Those blue eyes. "Cl--ou…"
Her body shook and shivered and trembled, distant fear clamoured in the back of her throat. Some last sliver of consciousness wailed, unvoiced and unheard, and the sword running her through answered with cold, slow, careful precision, neatly severing her spine as it slid out. One last rattling breath choking in her throat, Yuffie stilled.
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And Yuffie was shuddering as well, and then she wasn't. Even in his near-delirium, Suzaku understood what was happening, and that it couldn't be true. She couldn't just die like this, not Yuffie, so nice and friendly and undeserving -- it couldn't happen again, Suzaku couldn't accept it. "Yuffie!" he gasped. "Don't -- don't leave me. . ." And that's what it was really about, wasn't it? His own weakness, his own panic and terror and all sorts of synonyms for worthlessness.
But it was hopeless, she was already dead (how?!) and he had done nothing to help her, and Euphie was still speaking.
"Suzaku, meeting you was. . ." Was her death sentence. Was the cruelty of a fickle God, or maybe just Chance, even worse. She should have had another knight, one who could have saved her, one who would have honored her memory and not perverted it in the way he had. One who could have been as strong as her.
But she had loved him, she always would, and that was the worst part. Because he couldn't let himself believe it, not anymore. The only thing that should love him was a cold bullet, like the one buried in his chest.
He was dying, he realized slowly. After all this time, after years of praying for punishment and redemption (and eventually, just for punishment), after all his rage towards Lelouch for denying him his greatest wish. . . it was going to be like this. Kind of funny, because this was the one time he couldn't go. He had people to protect, Lelouch and Euphemia and Yuffie, and suddenly -- suddenly he was afraid. Not for himself, but for all the people who needed him, for the world to which he owed so much. Funny that he would go out now, like this, alone and afraid. Ha. Ha.
It was that surety of knowing the story's end that triggered it. Suzaku had been on the point of accepting his long-awaited death, even at this time and place, because there was no other choice and he deserved it anyway -- but he couldn't. He had to live on, somehow. It was all he understood then, and he forgot the people he loved and the sins he'd committed. He had to stay alive, that was the only truth there was.
Whatever was causing this had to be some kind of supernatural monster, the presence that had been stalking them this whole time. So he had to get away, to abandon Yuffie and save himself at all cost. With his last remaining strength, Suzaku pushed himself away from her body and tried to struggle to his feet. He coughed, blood bubbling between his lips, but he continued to push himself, staggering away step by agonized step. He had to. . . had to get away. . .
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"Euphie. . ." he whispered, wishing he could see her one last time. Was it his own voice that spoke, though, or was it the whispers all around him? He wasn't sure. He could hear screaming, distantly, screaming and crying and the sound of her lovely name over and over. Was it. . . his own voice? He wasn't aware of himself speaking, but he must be, somewhere, on some plane. Somewhere, Euphie was dead. Somewhere, Lelouch was pointing a gun at his chest, and Suzaku watched him fire as if in slow motion. How appropriate, that it would be Lelouch. . . Suzaku wanted to see him one last time, too. But he was going now, fading, and soon he would be nothing in substance as well as in worth. It wasn't the end he would have asked for. It was, however, still an end.