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I Want Them Both - Chapter 11
Title: I Want Them Both
Author: Me, Fathoms_deep
Rating: R
Date Written: Saturday, August 13, 2005
Warnings: Sex, Threesome, gore, violence

Summary: RikuxSoraxTidus. Sora has finally won Riku's heart... but he craves someone else. Someone who spends almost as much time with him as Riku does. But can he convince Riku to let them share him?

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Chapter 11





Riku's mind fled in and out of porous images, half-thoughts, transparent ideas and memories during the long hours he spent alone, his only visitor a quiet figure who sat next to him sometimes, checked his body to make sure it was still breathing before leaving him again. He tried to look around him but motion was out of the question. He was only in a room without pictures. The only black room in a building of white. The only light was shut off from him. The sunlight hurt in ways he could not explain. He wept often, alone, neither knowing where he was nor what he had done to be there. Only the mad jargon of whispers and voices gave him any clues.

"It's going to leave an ugly scar." "I think the skin graft will work, but muscle tissue is hard to replace..."

He was all alone in this black ocean. Occasionally he heard a constant, grating sound of a machine monitoring his heart. It filled his waking dreams and nightmares and was the instrument that played his despondent, ragged nerve synapses like a harp. He wanted to tear out the wires inserted into his body. He wanted to rage and scream. Exhaustion stole away his strength. He never slept enough to awaken out of his slumber.

Sometimes he screamed and did not know it until he woke himself, listening to the reverberations mock him from the darkness. He heard voices echo down the hall. Then the door opened, blinding him at once with the hateful light before the dark figures with faceless heads and gleaming eyes pulled at him. Shadows. They pulled and prodded and poked and he screamed again. Then the pain went all away and he fell asleep once more.

His chest was a cavern of agony. Every breath he took felt like the next would split open his ribs and let a terrible torrent of hate rush forth like the breaking of a massive dam. His skin felt too tight. It felt fragile, like it would crack at any second. It crawled.

When he was not screaming in his sleep, he dreamed of that horrible beach and the voice that spoke from his mouth. He saw a crowd of yellow-eyed monsters surrounding him and the two people on the other side of the beach; miles away from him, it seemed. But he saw them clearly as they embraced and fell against the sand together. He didn't know why it filled him with such rage. He ran across the gray granules as they crunched under his feet like tiny bones, and he swung a black obsidian blade and slew them both in one strike. The black ocean turned red with the blood that ran in rivulets from their bodies.

Some part of him was mad. He knew that much. He knew that some part of him was insane with grief for what he had done in his dreams. He wanted to turn that sword upon himself, end it all, drive all of his misery and pain into the sword, into his body, bereft of all love for life and self. He constantly felt the pain of such a blow, how it would gradually fade and there would be silence again, and blissful, soothing darkness. It dangled beyond his reach with a death that would never free him from his pain.

Then the overwhelming, devouring demon that represented everything he had lost. Something precious had been taken away from him.

He's gone. You can't have him now. He is all gone and you have ruined it all.

He struggled to ignore that voice. No. He could fix it. Couldn't he? He could apologize, he could work it off, do something. His mind couldn't come up with a single logical solution to what he'd done.

You can't do anything. It is hopeless. You are a murderer.

I can atone! he insisted. I can atone for my sin and he'll love me again! He railed at his brain to work, to shake off the fuddle of drugs that were pouring into him so intraveinously. He felt wetness on his cheeks. No ideas would illuminate anything at all.

There was a horrid laughter, a voice deep and warm and soothing inside of him that spread throughout his body, cooling the pain in his body. That's right, Riku. There is nothing that can be done. You have blood on your pretty, calloused hands. You are nothing now. You're a ravaged soul, a tumultous husk of a human being. All that you are and will be is murder and hatred. Can you not feel in your very soul that it is the truth?

Riku refused to accept it. He clenched his hands. He tossed his head to the side to stare at the blank wall to his right, the one almost exactly like the one to the left. His heart raced in his chest. "I'm not... I'm not a murderer. Tidus can't be..."

You pierced his heart and took the life out of his body. What else is murder in your eyes? the voice reasoned softly, the words caressing down his cheek and over the naked scar on the young man's chest. He hissed, the touch bringing the nerves to life and all at once there was the pain. He saw blood everywhere on his clothes, but he wasn't wearing them anymore. Where were they?

His mind raced momentarily. The touch, the words, did not disappear. He felt the cold fingers of reason and finality travel down his stomach, which felt full with rocks. Caved in, almost. When he realized the invading fingers would not stop, Riku shut his eyes tightly. It circled his navel twice, raking down his stomach greedily. He imagined someone breathing against his ear, nibbling his earlobe. He snapped his eyes open and struck out, and hit the air. The touch was imagined. He breathed heavily, then rubbed his hands over his chest, trembling violently.

The hours spun away again. He lost track of the time, but the unearthly whispers did not return to him again for a long time.

After awhile he sensed another person enter the room. It wasn't his imagination, either. This person stepped into the room and took his hand. Unfamiliar lips touched his brow, whispered his name and love to him. He wondered who this person was... and when there was a little more light (that he could tolerate), he saw her face.

"Riku, my son... do you recognize me?" her voice was soft and deep, like a running river. He looked at her more closely... he couldn't recognize her... but she called him 'my son'. His mother. Then why couldn't he know her face, her name?

Very slowly, he shook his head. Gentle crying filled the room.

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The corridors weren't silent as hospitals are wont to be on a small island like Destiny Islands. The only thing he heard on occasion while he sat, curled up in a fetal position in the waiting room on the couch was a voice shouting at the nurse somewhere. It was Jecht's. He wanted to know who the *$%& had the balls to hurt his boy.

Sora was warmed that Jecht cared so much for his son... but at the same time, he was scared. He told the nurses not to disclose any information at all. He practically begged his mom to stop asking him questions because he just didn't want to talk about it at all.

It just seemed unfair that he came through without so much as a scratch. He shut his eyes tighter, using his arm as a pillow, his heart pounding. He was waiting. He couldn't remember what for...

Oh yeah. Tidus was in surgery. He didn't know if he was going to make it... and nobody was gonna tell him a goddamn thing. His mom was a white-faced stranger sitting next to him, rubbing his back occasionally but otherwise offering no more words since he'd exploded at her an hour ago and told her to stop asking him so many fucking questions.

He spent the rest of that hour laying down, feeling bad for yelling at her, feeling miserable that Tidus may or may not die, depending on how close the sword had penetrated into his body.

Eventually his attention was torn away from the parade of other patients moving in front of his vision by a man in white standing. Sora immediately got up, stumbled to his knees, pleading silently as he landed there, in front of him. He got up slowly, afraid to stand in case the news knocked him away like a leaf in the wind.

The doctor said, "It was hard work. I was afraid it wouldn't be enough, but we pulled through. Now we've got to wait for Tidus to come out of anesthesia."

Sora saw that Jecht and Tidus's mother were standing nearby, and both of them immediately collapsed into each other, making astounded noises of surprised gladness and joy. The sheer terror of it left them, stripped their raw nerves bare, pouring love and affection on them.

Sora was the least outrageous, but he felt the raw wires of worry and anxiety stripped away from him, letting his skin heal. His body ached so painfully... he pulled himself upright, and turned to the doctor, throwing his arms around his waist. He hugged the strange man he didn't know tightly. He smelled blood and hospital on him, this man who saved Tidus's life... so he hoped. He didn't care if he didn't hug back or pushed him away.

The brunette finally stood away, and turned to hug his mom, and began to rain apologies on her for yelling at her, and she shushed him and kissed his hair. She told him everything was going to be alright. "I want to be there when he wakes up," he said softly. "I want to see him... I want to know if he--" He choked up, and hugged his mother tightly again. She understood. She didn't say so, but he could feel it.

Tidus's parents had priority, so to speak, but Sora wouldn't grudge them that. He couldn't trust or distrust Jecht. He just wanted Tidus to be happy. When Tidus awoke a few hours later, during which Sora caught snatches and bits of sleep, he waited outside the room while Jecht talked to his only son.

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Tidus opened his eyes. His rest had been blissfully bleak of any dreams. For a long time, when he could form coherent thoughts, he wondered if he was dead. Floating, it felt like, in water.... a liquid paradise from which he would not wake for years to come.

However, he was gently washed onto the shores of the waking world.

He opened his eyes.

He did not expect the first person he'd see to be his father. He almost recoiled. Pain shot through his shoulder and his stomach, which then receded into memory, a dull ache.

"I'm sorry, kid," Jecht said. "Wish I'd known that that was all gonna go down. I woulda kicked that scrawny bastard's ass up and down the street. Uh.... so! How you feelin'?"

"Like you care..." Tidus mumbled... then he answered quickly, slurring. His body felt like it was still asleep, all over the place. "Uhh... what happened?"

He had a brief glimmmer of what had occured. He saw blood on sand, saw the look of surprised joy and lust for the kill on someone's face. Then it all faded. He could not think straight. He lifted his hand and saw, inserted at the crook of his elbow, a tube of fluid and nutrients going into his body.

"You got your ass kicked," Jecht went on, smiling gently. "Turns out you nearly knocked the shit out of that other guy, though. What was his name, uh... Beekoo? Peekaboo? What?"

"It was Riku, dear," his mother reminded Jecht gently.

Tidus looked up at the ceiling, his face a mask of unfeeling. He pretended he didn't hear them talking over him. Once again, as if he wasn't there... but he couldn't fail to notice the look on his father's face when he said that he'd been beaten... and that he'd knocked the crap out of Riku. He didn't even remember how he'd done it. But it felt alright. He felt better already, even if Jecht didn't even want to admit his son had done something.

Even if it wasn't something to be proud of. A bloody battle. What did that matter? Riku was asking for it.

He looked up, lifting his head as much as he could for all the strength his body lent him. He saw the door open and another figure come in. His dubious parents retreated from his bedside and stepped out, to talk more, or maybe hold each other in that sickening way that often made Tidus wildly jealous.

The figure became clearer through the fog is anesthesia. "Sora!"

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Author's Notes: Well, Just trying to do a hospital scene to tie things up... I get the impression that my mind will not let this fanfic go. It's holding on. So a chapter 12 may not be very far away. I'm making awesome progress. I update pretty much every goddamn day... and yet I have a total lack of commennts all of a sudden. I don't know if ytou're speechless or what, but I'm glad ColdSilence *always* has something to say!!!

The person who names the 'voice' in Riku's head gets a cookie.