Accidents and Aftermath, Chapter 11: Understanding II

[dream_it_all]

Title: Accidents and Aftermath
Author: Dreaming of Everything dreams_of_all
Series: Yu Yu Hakusho
Characters/Pairings: Hiei/Botan
Rating/Warnings: T for over-all mood, nothing terribly bad in specifics.
Summary: When Hiei is poisoned, causing temporary insanity, he severely wounds Botan, who's now comatose, hovering on the brink of death. This fic is a series of onesided conversations between the two as Hiei deals with his emotions, and then the aftermath.


oOoOoOo

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do children as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” Helen Keller

“Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I’d like to see you in better living conditions.” Hafiz

“True love is not for the faint-hearted.” Meher Baba

oOoOoOo

She woke up screaming, but her voice wasn’t responsive enough to make any sound. Her body was soaked in sweat, and her skin was crawling.

The room was empty. She had checked.

Even Hiei couldn’t manage to hide in the room itself-not that that would stop him. He could be anywhere else, with so very few people capable of stopping him, and no matter where he was his Jagan could let him watch.

But still, the room was empty. At least, it was now.

She shivered in the aftermath of her dreams, propping herself against a wall and hugging a pillow to herself, looking out at the empty room.
She was tired, but she didn’t really want to sleep. She wanted-
Something, but she didn’t know what.

oOo

“How is she?” said Hiei, after Kurama had been there a few minutes, once it was clear that he wasn’t willing to just go away again.

“Recovering,” he said, and ordinarily Hiei would take the sympathy in his voice as an open invitation for a fight, but he was pretty self-pitying right now all on his own. Really, he couldn’t attack Kurama for what he’s doing himself-and he had thrown himself on Kurama with intent to kill just a few short weeks ago, mind blinded and drugged and leaving him with nothing but fierce anger and the desire to kill, to destroy, to attack and fight and revel in blood and severed flesh and death-and it was all just too similar to what he’s already done, what he had once expected he’d have to do (he’d entered in a truce with him, true, but demons never really trust in their partners or expect them to hold up their end of the bargain) but that had changed, over the years, what with one thing and another, and trust had been just one part of what had built up.

“Oh,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“I think you should wait a while to see her,” Kurama added.

Hiei’s teeth clenched, jaw tightened, the movements short and abrupt, unchosen.

It didn’t pass by Kurama unnoticed. He made as if to say something, his mouth opening briefly, but he decided against it, and closed it again.

“I… know,” said Hiei, voice low.

Ordinarily, Kurama wouldn’t press Hiei like this, but he needed it right now. He needed something-anything-to break him out of the mood, the shell, he was in.

And ordinarily, Hiei would have had one of two reactions, Kurama thought, to his statements: a refusal to let him dictate what he did, or something along the lines of “Why would I want to see the silly, useless woman anyways?”

The blank, hurting, non-reactionary acceptance was unnerving.

“I think a few weeks would be good.”

“I’m not going to see her again, fox,” said the fire demon, and Kurama drew back, honestly surprised.

“Why not?” he said, and he let some of his raw surprise, his lack of understanding, slip into his tone.

Hiei looked at him like he was stupid. “She’s- scared of me. Frightened. I won’t-

“-do that to her…”

And Kurama realized, suddenly and horribly, that his friend’s eye’s were reddened, irritated-he’d been crying.

And he knew that he had totally misunderstood the scale of the attachment between them, Hiei and Botan. Or at least from Hiei to Botan, because she was still horrified by the very thought that Hiei might be near. The nurses had said that her dreams had had her nearly panicking.

But Hiei. He’d never shown emotion like that before, not really. He cared-they all knew he cared, that he’d changed, become a better person, because of his time with them-but he’d never shown it, and he’d never let it appear to be a weakness.

He’d never cried like this.

Kurama can understand it, a little-Botan has a pure heart, and in many ways she’s the opposite of Hiei, but the two compliment each other.

Kurama thought that Hiei thought of Botan as an embodiment of innocence, the twin to his own darkness, and he almost destroyed that, something he cared for but could not become, something he wanted but did not possess. He had pressed her away from him, but he had wanted to-and been too afraid to-draw her in close.

And then he had almost killed her, and so he had clutched frantically at the broken pieces.

And then she had turned on him.

Suddenly, Kurama feels unprepared for this.

“I don’t think she-hates you, Hiei.”

“She blames me. For almost killing her. And I did, Kurama, you know I did-you know how close it was as much as I do. She blames me for attacking you, Yusuke-for turning on you.” Hiei’s voice was bitter.

“I don’t blame you,” said Kurama mildly, and Hiei glared at him, his eyes bright with anger.

The ‘you don’t matter, only she does’ went unspoken, and ‘you, a reformed thief, a renowned demon?’

For once, Hiei wanted to talk, to explain-like he had to Botan’s unconcious body. He wouldn’t do that again, talk to her like that. She had been horrified by the very idea that he had been in the room with her.

But habits engrain themselves deeply. He couldn’t quite bring himself to do it, to talk-it had taken silence and a listener who couldn’t listen, before, to bring it out of him the first time, and there was history with Kurama. There was pride, and showing weakness, and showing trust.

He wanted to talk, but he also didn’t, and that was stronger.

“Botan’s very forgiving,” said Kurama, like it was a revelation like it was relevant, like it wasn’t painfully obvious to anyone who knew her, and the Tantei were possibly some of the people who knew her best.

And something in Hiei broke.

“If I see her again, she’ll scream and panic. If she doesn’t, she’ll go all quiet, draw in on herself. She won’t be herself around me again. It was a miracle she came to trust me at all, after how we met, and now you think it’ll happen again?”

Kurama was startled by the sudden flow of words. Again, there was a flood of revelation.

Because something like this had happened already, hadn’t it? And Hiei remembered, even if Kurama hadn’t thought it relevant to this at all, hadn’t even thought to think of dwelling on it.

He didn’t know what Botan thought of Hiei now, except that she was horrified, that she felt vulnerable (and compared to all the rest of them, she was, even though she was strong) and betrayed. He didn’t know the depth, the reasoning, the thought patterns and processes she was going through.

“She’s still a little fuzzy from her coma. If you give her some time to calm down, collect herself, adjust to the new situation and what she’s missed…”

Hiei sneered, his disgust clear. “I won’t put her through that.” And again, Kurama could hear unsaid words tacked on to the end of it: ”I’ve put her through too much already.”

Hiei clearly wasn’t shifting his point of view. Kurama was getting nowhere with this conversation-all he had really determined was that this was necessary, utterly and totally necessary, for the sake of Hiei, and for Botan, and for all of them. They-the Tantei, Koenma, Genkai-relied on both of them, each in their own way.

And Hiei needed Botan.

oOo

Explanations wouldn’t stop fluttering through Botan’s mind: he wouldn’t leave your side, he was so worried-it wasn’t really him-the same poison that almost killed you affected him, as well-it wasn’t his fault, Botan.

It just felt wrong. She was afraid; she didn’t want to think about forgiveness. Not while she could still picture him, attacking her in the middle of the fight, sword swinging out towards her from the darkness and the rain and the growing shreds of fog.
She had forgiven him once already.

And she knew about forgiveness. She was a ferry girl; she had been given a second lease on life, one she was pathetically grateful for, for no real reason other than one had been needed, she fit the demographic, she had had approximately the right personality and she had been lucky. There had been hundreds of other possibilities, but their souls had all been processed. They had gone on, and only Botan, because she was lucky, had gotten to stay.

And in a way, all second chances were like that: gifts, a surprise, something inexplicable and miraculous. She loved them.

And she had been hesitant of Hiei before, especially at the beginning, because of what he had done, the crimes he had committed, without so much as batting an eye. She knew, and so she was suspicious, but they had been assigned to work together, and she had tried.

She had tried. She had succeeded once already, she didn’t want to do it a second time, as irrational as it sounds. As infantile.

But she had loved forgiving, the first time around. She had loved getting to trust him, getting to know him a little. She had thought he had changed-

She had known he had changed. But that had changed, too.

Not according to Kurama, or Yusuke, or even Kuwabara, who so rarely said anything complimentary about Hiei-their ridiculous sibling rivalry at work. And even with what’s changed, even with what Hiei has done, the idea of Kuwabara and Hiei quarreling like brothers (because they did) was enough to make her smile, enough to force her to repress laughter.

Could she believe in the excuse of poison gas?

Maybe.

She didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. Even though she loved to forgive, to move on, to grow above something, to continue to live, she didn’t want to forgive this, absolve Hiei of his guilt this time, for this crime.

But she did, and she knew it, she just didn’t want to admit she knows it, because she wanted to have someone to blame-

The first time she’d died, she knew, she’d had no one to blame but herself. Most of her file is sealed, known only to Koenma and her dreams, but she’s read what she can. Her death was marked an accident. It’s true of most ferry girls-violent deaths make shattered, broken souls, bitter ones, and ferry girls weren’t supposed to be like that. They were for healing, for leading the departed to peace and acceptance.
She’s done a prime job of doing that, Botan thought, bitter.

Could she forgive Hiei, for the sake of the rest of the Reikai Tantei, for the peace of mind of Koenma?

She couldn’t. She wanted to be selfless, wanted to be a good person, wanted to do the right thing, but she couldn’t, not in this. Not while she could still remember.

Could she forgive him for his own sake?

No. She had never even known if Hiei actually likes her, at all; she knew he tolerated her, somewhat, for the sake of his duties, but there’d never been any evidence of anything stronger. There had been a lot of evidence for the other side of the argument, though.

And she had been the first one to fall under his sword…

So could she forgive him for herself?

Maybe.

Maybe. Because she wanted to be selfless, but she wanted to forgive others more than anything else-not for their sake, shamefully, but because it’s who she wanted to be.

Would that be enough? She didn’t know. Did she even want to try? She thought not, but that wasn’t good enough. She’d try anyways. Try to be understanding. Try, slowly, to forgive, because it’s all she could do, really.

oOo

It was late when Hiei arrived back in the spirit world; the hallways were dim, and his footsteps sounded loud in the dusty silence, though he knew that he was probably the only person here capable of hearing them.

He could feel the tastes of guilt, of self-disgust, rise in the back of his throat as he walks.

This was disgusting. He had no right to be here, no reason. He’s so weak he couldn’t stay away, couldn’t live through with his own promises, couldn’t even rely on his own self.

Pathetic.

He paused at Botan’s closed door, almost opened it, but didn’t.
He had heard of her revulsion of him watching her as she slept. He would respect her wishes that much, since he couldn’t bring himself to stay away, which was all she really wanted. Even if it was more than what she hoped for, because she didn’t trust him enough to respect her wishes at all. That, at least, was partly true: he was so weak that he needed a good-bye before he could leave her alone, leave her to heal and grow and become all that she had the promise of becoming. He couldn’t leave her alone, but he wanted to. He did care what she thought, no matter that she’d never know it.

So he leaned his head against the solid wood of the door, cool and comforting, took a deep breath in and then let it out.

“Good-bye,” he said, just barely more than mouthing the words, because it’s what he was here for.

And then he left. Because it was all he could do for her.