Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Midnight Aloha ❯ Chapter 8

MA 8

Ken watched Aya go first. The marble flooring Abyssinian stood on tilted, breaking like an ice berg, tilting. Ken hadn't noticed the blood pools around Aya's feet until tears of them streaked across the marble. The katana went straight up, silver that broke the light into a cross of white as Ken watched Aya's feet leave the marble, leave all solid grounding.

He ran towards him, the scent of blood in the air, damning him. He jumped from his own marble berg, clawed hands reaching. It chilled him, this dark as it swallowed. The last he saw of Aya was his red hair blending into he dark, overwhelmed by nonbeing. "Aya!"

Something that he'd thought dead screamed back to life then, loved returned to his heart with a rage that would have lit the dark nothingness around them if it could so much as have kept air in Ken's lungs.

He hit in a graceless heap, shoulder first, then rolling feet over his head. Tucking just in time he rolled up onto the balls of his feet. Blade covered hands at the ready, one drawn back by his head, the other guarding in front of his face, chest. Brown hair plastered to his face by blood and sweat, some his own, most not. Concentration and ruthless rage made his dark honey brown eyes smolder as he scanned this new ground he was squatting on, searching furiously for the red head who'd fallen before him. Only his deep respect for wanting to live on kept him from yelling out Aya's name. Information was a weapon, and he'd give nothing away.

All around him lay green grass, the occasional flower, lit by sunlight that was already drying the blood on his bare arms, bringing the faintest hint of tightening in the leather in his bugyuks. He had fallen from the temple of Estet into a sunny field of green grass. He didn't like the most obvious answer and his control dried up like blood. "Aya," he cried out.

"Love is a powerful gift." The words were cheerful, matching the sunny field. "Welcome, Ken."

"Oh no!" Ken was on his feet then, legs shaky, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "I'm not ready to be dead."

The man lay down in the grass, shoulder length brown hair fanning out as he lay back. His tee-shirt was an unbleached cotton, his pants frayed blue jeans. "Oh, but the question is, are you ready to be alive?"

Ken blinked, pushing dirty hair back from his face with he back of his other wrist. "Who the hell are you?"

Rolling onto his side, head held in his palm, the man answered, "I'm Peter. Ken, what would you have, if you could have anything you wanted?"

"What has that to do with anything? If I could have anything? Anything?" What he wanted snarled up in him. He wanted to reach Aya in time, keep the red head from falling into the void without hearing... Hearing what? He wanted children to be happy and safe, safe from rage and hurtful words. He wanted to play again, to run across the field and shoot for the goal. He wanted never to have killed anyone. He wanted to have killed the people who created the void that ate Aya, and himself, he guessed. Maybe Omi and Youji too. He'd trade his life to get the cheerful life back in Omi, to get the cocky sensual Youji back to complain about his shift. "What difference does it make what I want? Reality would probably cough up a demon if I got what I wanted."

"Well, Ken, you see, you don't quite know the effect you had on the world. There is only one real bane to demons, especially the demon's that would help greedy broken people rule the world. That bane is love that would jump into the void to save a loved one, with no hope of reward, just the raw need to love." Peter said, a finger caressing the petals of a tiny daisy like flower. "Ken, sometimes life offers a second chance to say the things unsaid, to live the life unlived. I could ask you for what I need you to do, but you will do it if I ask or not, because your own heart will drive you. Don't be afraid. The greatest of the gifts of the spirit is love."

"Love," Ken said, as if the word hurt as it flowed over his tongue. "Love."

"I said it was great, not that it was comfortable." Peter said. "And Ken, live by the sword, die by the sword. Good luck."

The grass dissolved, dropping Ken back into the void. Arms out to the side, he fell without control, tears of rage and loss clinging to his eyes and cheeks. His scream didn't even reach his own ears as no sound carries in the void.

Then he saw him, Aya falling swordless, coat fluttering in the wind, and Ken dove for him, calling out in the now bitterly cold wind. Bright blue water approached them. Ken strained, muscles screaming, but he reached Aya, grabbing one hand. Their fall sped up, with Aya held close to Ken, and for a moment, before they hit the water, Ken was content. This tiny second chance held the joy of Ken's life, feeling Aya's chest move with breath. Even Aya's not knowing he loved him, love was the greatest gift.

Spinning, Aya felt the spin. Consciousness seeped back in slowly, so that he knew arms wrapped around him, a body blocked the cold air from his face, under him he could hear the beating of another heart. It was Ken. Half conscious, Aya coldly processed why Ken would be holding onto him, why he'd heard Ken call his name, and he didn't understand.

He felt the jolt as they hit the water, felt Ken take the impact and the strength in the arms around him go. this was different than the void they'd fallen into before. This was thick and cold. Aya reached out his arms and pressed against the sharp darkness, the cold water, and slowed, kicking his feet, he moved towards the lighter surface. Two strokes, and he looked back. Ken sank still, arms wide, eyes closed, mouth open. The faint light reflected from the blades on Ken's hands. Aya watched him, dropping slowly away, and he knew that Ken had to have understood. His friend had taken the impact of the water for both of them. Aya dove then, digging his way back towards Ken.

The decision was more than a choice to save a friend. Coming out of a battle that he was sure he'd die in, calculating fury where his blood ought to have been, it was a reversal of his soul, turning towards the light, even as he dove from it. When his hand took hold of Ken's shirt and their decent into the ocean stopped, Aya decided that he'd turn all the way around. They'd done what they could to stop this demon. Now, he'd take Ken to Australia, back to the USA, anywhere the man wanted to go, even just as friends.

It took all of Aya's strength to reach the surface, dragging Ken with him. It was a relief to tread water then, though he knew he couldn't do it long. It gave him time to make sure that Ken was still breathing. Aya squeezed him tight, using his own body as a solid surface to press Ken's battered body to, press the water out of his lungs. Bloody and foul, it surged out over unmoving lips. They would all die, from what they did. Aya had come to terms with that at some point, giving his life for honor and the second chance to save someone else's loved ones, as he couldn't save his own. "Breathe, Ken! Breathe!"

Treading the water grew more difficult quickly. Holding Ken to him with one hand, Aya took at deep breath and grabbed Ken's head, holding it as, he pressed his mouth to Ken's and blew his lung full of air in. They dropped under the surface and Aya let them. Holding Ken's mouth with his, let go his head, and stroked them back to the surface. Panting now, he prepared to do it again, when Ken started to sputter and breath. "Don't die, Ken."

Ken floated there next to him, breathing, washed clean by the ocean, and Aya didn't know how long he could keep them both afloat. It hurt, thinking about not being able to hold Ken above the water, not being able to save him. "I'm sorry, Ken. God, I'm so sorry."

Then the search light hit them, passing over then, coming back. Aya looked around, turning them with one armed strokes. Nothing. Looking up, he found the source of the light. He almost let them both drop back under the surface, but a bright yellow raft dropped into the water, then two divers in fins and tanks dropped as well. Aya held Ken to him, got his head on his shoulder and held him as if he'd never let him go.

The divers didn't try to separate them, only worked them into the raft, which lifted them both up. With less demands on his strength, Aya could lay beside Ken and watch him breath. It was taking advantage of him, perhaps, holding his friend's body close, feeling life come back to him.

Once they were inside the large helicopter, medical workers started in on Ken, then on Aya. Youji and Omi were there already, on the side farthest from the door. Youji lay out with his head on Omi's lap. The youngest of them, Omi ran his fingers through Youji's salt water soaked curls. Aya mouthed, "He okay?"

Omi shrugged, looked up at Aya with tear filled eyes and mouthed back, "We're lovers."

Aya was pretty sure they'd fallen through hell into an entirely alternate universe. Aya didn't know how to reassure Omi, wasn't sure he really cared to at the moment, as the medical workers cut away Ken's shirt and took his weapons off his hands. So what he mouthed back to Omi was simple, grief and hope at the same time. "Lucky you."