Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ dystopia ❯ dystopia ( One-Shot )

Title: dystopia

Rating: PG

Warnings: Some D/Leon implications, nothing major.

Disclaimer: Damn you, Santa.

Author's note: desolation has only read the first three volumes of the manga, so everything she knows about D's background and nature comes from spoilers. Apologies for any hideous inaccuracies, and please don't kill her for it. Feedback and constructive advice are always appreciated, flamers will be poked with sticks.

^*^

Not again.

Not again.

Not a-fucking-gain.

Leon looked round for something to kick, thought better of it and contented himself with swearing savagely under his breath. He'd been trailing D half an hour now, and had thought he was really, finally onto something when he'd realised the pet shop owner wasn't heading for his normal midnight-picnic spot at the museum. But this - this took the biscuit, the cake and the entire fucking bakery. Nobody - nobody - decided to go for a little cup of tea by the sea in the middle of the night. Nobody. Except, apparently, Count D. He was probably gonna sit there and have a nice little chat to some prehistoric dolphins, too, Leon reflected glumly. Fucking A.

Still, he'd wasted this much time. He guessed he couldn't really give up without investigating a little further.

^*^

D was tired, and not pleasantly so; the dry, uncomfortable sort of tired that comes from not really being sure one wants to sleep. He'd been troubled, lately. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to bad dreams - quite the opposite - but his usual visions of dying species had always brought a kind of gentle melancholy that was not entirely unpleasant. The infinite reach of that sadness made it cut less deeply somehow. It was simple, too: beauty, and destruction. The humblest of creatures could understand that.

No, what had been bothering him lately was altogether different. Thoughts - not even that, shadows of thoughts - that had always been perfectly within his control would rise to the surface at odd times, most often after dark, making his face flush hotly, making his mind chase itself in circles, making him struggle to keep his composure. He'd been unsure, at first, when it had started, but finally settled on that night, a month or two ago now, at the natural history museum. Of course, he'd had a certain… affection for the young detective right from the start, had enjoyed teasing him gently as one does a favourite pet, but it had been no more than a passing amusement. At least, until the night when Leon had unwittingly blundered into his dream. Ever since, D had not quite been able to shake off the strange emotions that had risen in him without warning - not just the concern (yes, concern! For a member of a species he had always regarded with little more than laughing disinterest, and despite the fact he knew that one less ignorant American would hardly make the world a poorer place) he'd felt when Leon fell out of the tree, but the beginnings of something darker, something that had tipped over into hysterical anger and compelled him to bandage the detective's scratches, to get that human blood out of his sight before -

He didn't want to think past that. Before what, exactly, was the very thing he'd been trying to put out of his mind. Last night, he'd barely slept for fear of what dreams might come were he to close his eyes, and tonight had promised to be no better. Hence his being here. The past might be a welcome sanctuary in which to calm himself and gather his thoughts, but going to the museum as usual had hardly seemed like a good idea. The ocean, he'd decided at last, would do nicely. Water was always soothing, after all.

D sighed, and placed a hand against the teapot. If the incense was to take effect properly, he would have to be in the right state of mind, and this wasn't helping. And besides, he was not, he told himself sharply, eyes narrowing in irritation at his own lack of discipline, here to think about Detective Leon Orcot.

Not one bit.

He poured a cup of tea, and raised it to his lips.

Not at all.

"Hey, Count! D!"

Startled, D glanced behind him. He was sure he'd heard the voice, but the incense worked fast, and the landscape around him was already starting to fade, to brighten and change.

"What the hell do you think you're playin' at?!"

Still only half-visible, the dreamscape was shifting again. The blue of prehistoric sky darkened, and the clean smell of vegetation was invaded by something altogether less pleasant.

"D? Answer me, dammit!"

Too late, D heard the voice clearly, saw the reason for all his discomfort standing beside him, just before unconsciousness took him.

^*^

"Shit! Shit!"

Knowing already it would be useless, Leon grabbed the unconscious Count by the shoulders and shook him. His head fell back, eyes closed, nothing registering on his face.

Leon sat back on his heels, a sigh of frustration escaping him, and pressed hands to his temples. Seemed like he really was doomed never to get anywhere with this. It always, always happened this way. Always left him feeling stupid. For a moment - as he quite often did - he let himself consider the possibility that he really was wrong, that, as Jill had put it, he was so pissed off he hadn't been able to prove D guilty of a thing that he'd gotten obsessed with trying to pin everything on him. Either that, she'd remarked with a smirk, or he had a secret crush on the guy. She'd seemed to like that idea a bit too much, if you asked Leon.

Anyway, that was beside the point. The point was that Jill was wrong, Count D was most definitely guilty of something (for starters, there was no way in hell somebody who went round with an expression like that permanently plastered on his face was innocent), and he'd just managed to avoid being caught for whatever he was doing - which was obviously, obviously suspicious - again. At Leon's expense.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fine. He'd just wait. He'd sit and wait 'til D came out of that little trance of his, and then he could tell Leon exactly what else he had planned for his little late-night excursion. Yeah.

At least that would give him time to calm down. After all, at this rate he was gonna have to take up meditation himself. The thought was almost enough to make him laugh. Well, that or medication. Jesus F Christ. But yeah. He'd wait. Just sit here and listen to the sea. It was kind of soothing, he supposed. Calm and rhythmic, staying the same underneath all those manic city noises. Infinitely quieter, but kind of bigger, too. Almost made him understand why D got so worked up about nature.

And then he heard something else. Closer, right by him. His sleeping companion's breathing had been so quiet he hadn't noticed it, until it changed. Shit. He'd been so absorbed in thinking about D that he'd forgotten the Count was actually there. Not to mention lying on his back, unconscious and obviously under the influence of some type of drug. Leon Orcot, you fucking idiot.

Still cursing himself, he cast back frantically for what first-aid training he could remember, checked D's pulse (still there), turned him into the recovery position and momentarily considered calling an ambulance. But then, it wasn't like he was choking or anything. D was still breathing, just… differently. Shallow, and kind of panicked-sounding. There wasn't anything wrong with him that Leon could see, and he'd seemed fine for the first few minutes he'd been unconscious.

Leon frowned. Could there…?

Nah. That was just stupid.

He shook his head, but couldn't rid himself of the thought, somehow. He knew the effect that incense had. Could it be that something was happening to D… in the dream?

Well, no. Of course it couldn't. But the notion wasn't gonna leave him alone until he'd found out for sure, and there was only one way to do that.

He'd done some pretty damn stupid things since he'd gotten involved with the pet shop, Leon thought despairingly as he lifted the lid off the incense, but this had to be the dumbest so far. And the best part was he was gonna do it anyway.

^*^

For the first few seconds, all he could do was blink. The air stung - not so much it really hurt, more as though he was on the other side of a room where somebody was chopping onions. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, squeezing hot tears from the corners of them, and waited for the smarting to die down. That, however, was nothing to the smell. It was nauseating. Acrid, choking, sour and… chemical.

Leon frowned. The savannah he'd found himself in last time this had happened had certainly had its own… peculiar smell, but that had been different: the pungent-but-somehow-clean odour of organic life and organic decay. This was just horrible. He'd only been there a couple of seconds, and already his lungs were starting to feel like he'd spent the last hour or so getting high off gas fumes.

He took another, cautious breath, and opened his eyes. They teared up again immediately, and Leon had to fight to keep looking in front of him.

It was dark, darker than it had been, but from what he could make out, he was still standing in the same spot. He could make out lights across the bay - but just a few, nothing like the glaring cityscape he was used to - and hear the sea. Well, sort of. That was definitely the shush and sigh of a tide, but it sounded odd, somehow. Slower. Thicker. Leon climbed to his feet, and took a step forward, peering down into the gloom. Christ, it was dark. There was definitely movement down there, though. He could see what light there was glancing off the surface of the water, the motion of waves against shore, and yet…

He looked harder, straining his eyes in the dark. The water looked to have a kind of greasy sheen, an opaqueness that reminded him of oil spills he'd seen on TV, and the pull of the tide seemed heavier than he remembered it. Leon's eyes narrowed. Was that debris? There seemed to be a hell of a lot of it, whatever it was.

For a moment, Leon thought about taking another look, maybe climbing down to the edge of the water to find out whether he was imagining things. Then it occurred to him that seeing what it was might not be such a good idea.

And there was, he suddenly remembered, a reason for his being here. He ought to go look for D.

He kind of hadn't expected to see the Count standing just a few yards away, hands held out loosely, facing right in his direction but not seeming to notice his presence.

He'd been about to yell, but something in D's expression made him stop. He breathed in, took a cautious step forward.

The Chinese man started at the movement, a small gasp escaping him as one hand flew to his mouth. That was when Leon noticed his eyes were closed.

"D?" He frowned, puzzlement evident in his voice.

"De… Detective?" D's voice sounded strange, hoarse and very quiet, but there was a note of relief there too. His eyelids flickered open, were snapped shut again with a sharp hiss almost straight away.

"Hey… What's up?" Leon's frown deepened, and he moved closer to the swaying figure, something like worry creeping up his throat.

He had never seen D move with anything less than the grace of a prima ballerina, but now, as he took a tentative step toward the detective, hands fluttering weakly at his sides, his movements were slow, uncertain. He stumbled, then. Leon's hands went out to catch him of their own accord, moved to set him back on his feet, but D suddenly found he did not have the strength to support himself a second longer. He fell against Leon, slender fingers catching uselessly at the taller man's clothing, his hands, shoulders, anything just to stay upright.

"Whoa… Sweet fucking Jesus." Leon's arms had tightened round him instinctively, barely managing to keep him on his feet. The position was more than a little awkward but he clung on anyway, burying his face in the detective's shoulder to shield his eyes from the stinging air.

"D! What are you doing?! What's…"

"You're…" He stopped, took a breath, involuntarily dug sharp nails into his companion's skin as the air burned and a wave of dizziness overcame him. For a moment all he could do was stay like that, his face pressed against Leon as though this might shut out the nightmare landscape around them, as though he could breathe in the human's warmth in place of this painful, acid air. Once he had regained some kind of balance, he tried again.

"You're… not poisoned," was all he managed.

"Poisoned? Huh? What the…?" Habit meant that Leon's first instinct was to push D away from him, shaking him by the shoulders as if he could prise the answer out of him through physical force. The Chinese man's eyes opened wide with shock for a second, and Leon realised how sore they looked, their whites almost entirely laced-over with red. "…D?"

The slender form stayed limp in his hands. Nervously, he slid a supporting arm round D's waist and let the shorter man rest back against him. Whatever was going on here, he decided, it had started out firmly in the category of Not Good and was getting steadily worse.

"D." He took the Count's pointed chin in one hand, tipping the elfin face up towards his own, and tried to keep his voice gentle. "You gotta tell me what's going on here. What the hell happened to you? I mean, I know it smells kinda bad here but you look like you're coming down with… I don't know, the plague or something."

Evidently, Leon hadn't paid very close attention in history class. D could have smiled, had the task of continuing to breathe been demanding a little less of his energy.

"C'mon, please. Try."

"The incense…" he began - then stopped as a sharp buzzing sound registered in his ears, a fair distance away at first, but moving closer. He felt the arms around him go tense, and knew that Leon had heard it too.

"What's that?" Leon's eyes narrowed and he strained to identify the sound. It sounded a little like a motorbike, or at least an engine of some sort.

"I am not… sure… I would like to find out."

That was the first real sentence he'd heard D utter since they'd been here. It also made sense. He nodded.

"You're probably right. Can you walk?"

D managed a small smile. "I can try."

^*^

They'd headed back into the city without thinking. It was dark, and the warren of streets and alleyways had seemed like a pretty sensible place to get lost. It was strange, though. This was obviously the place they'd come from - some of the streets even bore a vague resemblance to those Leon knew - just… empty. Really, really empty. Plus the buildings all looked kind of, well, run-down, even though most of them were modern in design. Doors hung off hinges, and broken windows stared out blankly. Even then, there was something… odd about them. After all, he'd seen plenty of dilapidated buildings before, but these weren't quite like that. He couldn't put his finger on it, though. It was only later that he would realise how horribly clean they had been. No dirt, no dust, no plant life - not even the skitter of a rat down an empty alleyway. Just after they'd got into the city, they rounded a corner onto a main street, and even though he'd already noticed the weird quiet, Leon was shocked to see it so totally deserted. No cars, even. Empty, the expanse of concrete seemed intimidatingly wide.

Leon wasn't sure how many like that they'd crossed, or how far they'd got, when D's head collapsed onto his shoulder, the arm that had been clinging to him as though for dear life falling lifelessly away.

"D? You okay?" He pressed a hand to the smaller man's cheek, realising as he did so what a stupid question that had been. D was pale as ever, but his skin was feverishly hot. He shook his head weakly.

"I cannot… I must rest… Oh God…" His face crumpled with pain, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped him.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh. Crap. Leon fought back panic, trying desperately to listen to the sensible part of his brain that was telling him he should find somewhere they could hide and shut off all the other voices, the ones that were chattering wildly with fear and disbelief that this was actually happening, and something else that he couldn't quite identify but it gnawed at him every time he looked at the beautiful man trembling in his arms and hurt like a knife twisting somewhere in his guts, and he didn't like it one bit.

Finally his eyes lighted on a doorway that was deeper in shadow than the rest of the street, set back further from the road.

"C'mon." He slid both his arms back round D and half-carried him towards it.

"Leon? Where…?"

"Sh. It's okay, we can hide here." He wrapped his arms round the slender figure more tightly, hoping the words sounded a little more reassuring than they felt. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

There was no answer to that, just the ragdoll weight of D's body sinking against him as they finally reached shadow. Leon leaned back against the wall, and tried to quiet his breathing. He wasn't sure there was really anyone - or thing, for that matter - following them, but he'd intermittently thought he heard the noise of engines as they were stumbling through town, and taking chances really didn't seem like a good idea at this moment in time.

"Leon… I was telling you…"

Leon started. He hadn't been sure D was still conscious, let alone capable of speaking. It was almost as if being pressed against the detective restored some of his strength, as if he found some kind of sustenance in the warmth where their bodies met.

The thought was kind of uncomfortable, and Leon let it pass.

"Yeah, the incense. What about it? What happened?"

"Yes, the incense." A pause; a soft, shallow breath. "For it to work correctly… one must be in the right state of mind. At rest. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise you end up in Bladerunner?"

D gave a half-smile. "That… is one way of putting it, yes. Since you startled me just as the incense was taking effect, my state of mind was one of shock. And so the dream we find ourselves in is… hardly as pleasant as the last one. This is not the past, but the future as I… my kind… fear it to be." He shuddered, and would have clung tighter to his companion had it been possible. Though he had barely been able to open his eyes, it had not been the visible desolation of the landscape that hurt him most. When he'd found himself here he'd reached out, down into the earth with all his senses, searching for something natural to take hold of, something that might tell him where this was. He'd reached out and found… nothing. Just deadness, and toxic void. The stupidity of humankind, its blind insistence on trying to dominate nature had, it appeared, finally succeeded in destroying it.

It was then that the air had really begun to sting.

"Your ki… wait a second." Leon paused, trying to pin down some of the questions that were swarming inside his head. "So this is just a dream, right?" His tone was hopeful, but he didn't quite dare let relief take hold of him.

"Yes. Though the phrase 'just a dream' seems a little less… apt… when… one cannot breathe."

At least that was the D he knew. The black humour was almost enough to make Leon chuckle, but he stifled it as his companion's sentence ended in a fit of coughing so violent it seemed he might be shaken to pieces. He waited for it to subside before asking the other thing that was bothering him.

"But why's this happening to you and not me? It doesn't make sense. You got some kind of weird medical condition or something?" He frowned. "Hey, you can't… die in a dream or anything, right?"

"Do let's hope… the incense… wears off before we find out." D's voice was fainter, as though it was hurting him to speak. "And no, it's… not a medical condition… Not exactly. It is simply that, where nature has been destroyed, what I am cannot live…"

"What you…?"

Leon was cut off by the shriek of an engine as it rounded the corner of the street. Mentally cursing himself for having forgotten the danger of their situation, he peered out onto the street and saw just the back of a vehicle as it sped past. Its shape, from what he saw, was a little like that of a motorbike, but sleeker, sharper, with some sort of official logo in place of a licence plate. There was a figure perched astride it, covered from head to toe in some sort of overall. Male, female - human? - he couldn't tell, but was willing to bet that whoever it was wouldn't be friendly. The whine of the motor faded, but only for a moment. It was coming closer again, back for another pass. There were others, too, further away but getting louder.

This was bad. Leon glanced down at his companion, neither daring to speak. The harsh sound crescendoed, surely almost on top of them now. The dark doorway might be enough to hide them from whoever, whatever this was if they weren't being looked for, but if they were…

His eyes met D's in panic.

"Kiss me."

"What?!" Leon bit back the yelp of surprise, his eyes widening in a shock that was almost comical. What the hell was D thinking? Was he delirious? This was all they needed…

"Kiss me." D repeated calmly, his speech still pained but steady. He closed his eyes again in exasperation at the detective's nonplussed look. "Pretend to. I believe it's one of the oldest tricks in the book, detective."

"Oh. Right. Ah…" He guessed it kind of made sense. Whatever these people were looking for, a snogging couple probably wasn't it. And D did look like a girl. It might work. But…

Engines screamed closer, more than one now. A sudden glare of headlights glanced over them, throwing their dark corner into daylight relief.

Oh crap please God let me wake up soon.

Leon closed his eyes, and leaned forward, and pressed his lip's to D's.

Perhaps it was panic that made D's nails claw into his back so sharply he winced, and perhaps it was fear that made Leon push him back against the wall, shielding him from the road and pressing him hard into the cool concrete. Soft lips parted beneath his own in what might have been a gasp of surprise, and Leon had responded in kind before he realised it.

D's tongue flickered in and out of his mouth, a light, tentative movement, and returned to explore deeper when it met with no resistance. It ran smoothly over the surface of his own, and the arms around him were still weak but somehow one long nail was running a teasing trail down his spine, and the rational part of Leon's brain yelled that surely this wasn't necessary and that he should push D away from him, now, but somehow he was sliding both his arms round D's waist, fingers catching at the silk that clung to him, and he wasn't running away but taking over the kiss, pushing his tongue into that soft, hot mouth, and the noise of engines faded and he barely registered it, and he touched D's face with one hand, caressing skin that was still sickly hot, and he was shaking and they were still kissing when he felt D's knees give way and the delicate form crumpled against him as another fit of coughing shook him.

He dropped to his knees, concern rising inside him again, holding D tightly to stop him from falling to the floor. This attack was more violent than the last. D's hand had flown to his lips to try and stifle the spasms, and when it came away again there was blood.

His eyes opened feebly, and fear was obvious in them now.

"Leon…" His voice faltered, and the arm that had been wrapped round Leon fell uselessly to one side.

There was blood on that hand too. Leon frowned, caught it in his own and stared in horrified fascination when he realised where it was coming from. D was bleeding from under his fingernails. His stomach churned and he let the hand fall, gazing terrified into his companion's face. Something was tearing at him deep inside, his heart racing wildly.

"D… Oh god, please don't die on me… Stay with me, please…"

"Leon… I…"

The last word was no more than a ragged breath, and D's eyes closed.

For a moment Leon couldn't move.

He didn't hear the roar of the engines until they were right beside him, and stopping this time, the blinding headlights turning the doorway horribly bright. Instinct took over then, and he shrank backwards, the unconscious D still clutched in his arms.

The door gave way behind him, and they fell.

^*^

Leon came to his senses gradually, his heart still beating a frantic tattoo in his chest as feeling returned to his limbs. He took a deep breath, then another, and opened his eyes.

He was, he realised, lying on a blanket on grass, among the scattered pieces of an overturned tea service. Not only that, but his arms were wrapped around something - or, rather, someone. Someone who was awake, breathing and very much alive.

"Do pardon me, detective." D sat up with a slight smirk, and delicately removed Leon's arms from around his waist. He smoothed down a strand of hair with one elegant, mercifully blood-free hand.

Leon blinked. He sat up, his heart still pounding, and shook his head to clear it.

"What… the fuck… was that?" he asked hoarsely, when he had found his voice again.

"A dream, Detective, as I have already told you." D replied coolly. "Or, rather, a nightmare." His mouth quirked, and an expression of displeasure crossed his face as he surveyed the mess. "Oh, goodness! My tea service!" His eyes widened with distress.

"Screw the fucking tea service!"

D, brushing imaginary pieces of dried grass from his cheongsam as he stood, stopped and regarded him icily. "Since it you who is at least partly responsible for this, Detective, I hardly think…"

"Okay, okay." Leon groaned, suddenly finding himself without the energy to argue. "Sorry." He leaned over, and started to pick up pieces of the scattered china.

D looked at him sideways, and breathed in slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment, and fought to calm the dizzy swirl of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him from within. Thankfully, Leon did not look up. He was frowning as he gathered teacups, struggling with confusion of his own.

^*^

"Well… this is where I turn off…" Leon stopped awkwardly.

"Very well. Good night, detective. I shall see you tomorrow, no doubt." D gave a polite smile, and Leon's mouth almost fell open with shock when the expected invitation to the pet shop for tea did not materialise. They had barely spoken on the walk back into town, each lost in his own thoughts, but he had at least hoped for the opportunity to satisfy some of his curiosity.

"Uh, yeah. I guess so." He paused. "But hey, you're gonna have one hell of a lot of explaining to do next time I see you, you hear me?"

A soft chuckle. "But of course."

"Well…" Leon took an uncertain step in the direction of his apartment building. "Night then, Count."

"Good night."

D stood, Mona Lisa-smile frozen in place, until he was certain the detective was out of earshot. A small sigh escaped him and the smile fell from his face, a wistful sadness replacing it.

"Good night," he repeated. "My Leon."

He leaned down to pick up the ruined tea set. There would be time enough for explanations in the morning - and time for him to collect his thoughts, calm the painful, irrational desire that had overtaken him in his weakened state, and formulate answers his favourite human would be able to deal with. He had not been the only one trembling when their lips had finally parted, and it would take careful distancing to allow Leon to forget that little incident, to stem the tide of questions that might otherwise sweep them both into dangerous waters. D could allow himself a tiny spark of gratification, but no more. Their usual routine would resume, the courtroom dance in which neither quite dared to move out of step pick up its rhythm as though never interrupted. It was better this way.

He turned, and moved off down the street.

Tonight had, after all, been just a nightmare. Just a dream.