All the Lost Souls - Short Fic
Catogory: Original Fiction
Pairing: N/A
Genre: Drama/Hints of Shounan-ai
Theme: Comfort/Friendship/shounan ai...ish
WORK SAFE, except for a little implied violence and near character death. ^^;
All the Lost Souls
Everything about the job had gone smoothly. He had received the request from a reliable source, so the money was good. Figuring out the safest way to get to the target had taken a little work, but good surveillance and a little bit of blackmail had proven very useful. With a good cover, Renge had safely gotten inside the building and eliminated the target with no problems.
But then the plan had hit a snag. When someone had discovered the body too early, the alarm was raised. In mere minutes the entire plan came crashing down around his ears.
Renge slumped against a dirty brick wall in a dark, secluded alleyway and checked for anyone who might have managed to follow him. The surrounding shadows were oppressive, but they were still and silent. It seems that he had managed to get away, but just barely.
He clenched his hand harder over his profusely bleeding abdomen, ignoring the sharp pain it caused, mindful only of what would happen if he couldn’t slow the bleeding. Already he was starting to feel light-headed. He forced his body away from the wall’s solid support and back into motion. He needed to get somewhere safe. He didn’t have time to rest.
Somehow he managed to make it back to the rented apartment without passing out from the blood loss. He fumbled with the busted door-handle and finally managed to force it open.
Inside the dirty, old apartment Renge was only a little surprised to find Tamurlayn awake and anxiously waiting for him. He was sitting in the dark on a barren mattress, the only real piece of furniture in the large one-room loft; he sat facing the door and with his little knees pulled tight to his chest.
“Brother!,” When he caught sight of Renge, the little boy sprang to his feet and raced towards the young man with a relieved smile, before the other stepped into the path of the moonlight and he saw that Renge’s hands and clothes were stained red with blood.
Almost immediately after he entered the loft Renge had collapsed, no longer capable of holding himself upright. The pain was excruciating. Darkness threatened to consume his vision and pull him under, but the he fought against it. He curled in on himself as his body was wracked with violent convulsions and harsh coughing fits that left flecks of blood all over the grimy floor. The smell of blood was thick and suffocating; it made him nauseous as it rose up in his throat and he was forced to expel it onto the ground.
Tamurlayn rushed to his side but was too scared to touch him. His small hands fluttered uselessly in the air above Renge’s curled up body, as he fought with indecision. Should he try to help him up, should he call someone? The child struggled to hold back terrified tears. He felt so helpless, usually when he was upset it was Renge who would comfort him, tell him what to do. But now it was Renge who needed the help and Tamulayn couldn’t do a thing. The tears won out.
Finally Renge’s coughing had subsided enough so that he could push himself into a more upright position. “Layn,” He strained to sound reassuring. “Tamurlayn, I need you to calm down and help me, alright?”
The child nodded resolutely, sniffling and rubbing the tears out of his amethyst eyes. He could do this, he could help. He would prove that he wasn’t weak and useless! He scrubbed his grubby hands over his hot, sun-kissed cheeks to eradicate the tear-stains and straightened out of his curled-up position to sit up straighter. The older smiled at the youth’s display of bravado; so much different then when they had first met and the young earth-shaker had been scared of his own shadow.
Renge told Layn to use his cell phone and call Dr. Firdos. He could faintly hear the doctor over the phone, assuring the frightened boy that he would be there as quickly as he could and hung up. By the time that the doctor had arrived, Renge, with Tamurlayn’s help, had managed to drag himself over to the mattress. Renge was lying on his back with Layn applying pressure to the wound on his stomach. His ruined black uniform top lay to the side of the mattress and his long silver hair was spilled over the mattress and across the floor like blood-stained moonlight.
Dr.Firdos sent Tamurlayn to fetch some water, afraid that the child would break without a task to occupy him. After Layn had scurried off to do as he was asked, the doctor then turned his attention to his wounded patient.
“Geez, Ren. What did you get yourself into this time?” Firdos sighed and shook his head sadly as he brushed a gentle hand over the younger man’s hair and hot forehead. He took a moment to survey the damage to Renge’s bloody and bruised body. His white skin was littered with scars; some of them fresh, others that were older and faint. But mostly the doctor focused his attention on the deep, long gash that had ripped its way into Renge’s abdomen.
Renge tried to focus on the older man, but only offered the other a faint, crooked smile. It certainly wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
The moonlight streaming in from the windows was the only source of light and it made the wound difficult to see. Leaving Renge there for just a moment, the doctor walked from the mattress over to the dingy little kitchen, in the other corner of the loft, to wash his hands and seek out some candles to light.
Tamurlayn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back pressed against the front of the sink’s cabinets. His amethyst gaze was focused down on his hands, which he was ruthlessly rubbing together.
Crouching down closer, so that he could see in the apartment’s dim light, Dr. Firdos saw that Tamurlayn’s little, brown hands were trembling and stained red with blood, the color standing out in gruesome contrast to the young mocha skin. The child was rubbing hard at the stains, trying to erase them. His large eyes were looking and yet not seeing and he didn’t even seem to notice that he was crying.
Dr. Firdos felt his heart ache at the sorrowful display and he was reminded of the day that he had first met the boy. Vacant eyed and impossibly thin as he stood next to Renge. The assassin had “adopted” him from a child prostitution ring that had specialized in trafficking Permnians. After killing the ring’s leaders he had been unable to just leave the little boy there and had impulsively decided to take the poor thing along with him. He had brought him to Firdos afterwards, to look over; and those vacant, empty eyes had left a strong impression on the world-weary doctor, the eyes of a lost soul. Before then he had begun to forget how sad such eyes were, and he had never wanted to see them again.
The doctor hadn’t been sure that the child would survive, but somehow Renge had saved him. Pronouncing himself as the little boy’s “Big Brother” he somehow managed to coax Tamurlayn out of his shell and return to him as least a little of the childhood innocence that he had lost.
But if Renge died now, then what would happen to Tamurlayn?
Firidos knew that if he didn’t work fast Renge would die from the blood loss. Already that was a very real possibility considering how much Renge had apparently already lost.
Dr. Firdos washed his hands and was able to locate some candles. Then he quickly returned to Renge’s side. Working swiftly, he got the wound disinfected and bandaged up. Now he just prayed to the Holy Goddesses that Renge would be able to make it thru the night.
“Is he gonna be okay?”
Startled, Firdos turned around to see Tamurlayn standing there, vacant eyes trained on Renge’s unconscious figure, as if he were even there. “B-Brother isn’t going to die is he? I don’t want Brother to die….” The words were spoken in a whisper, like he were afraid that anything louder would cause the world to collapse around him. The doctor tried to smile reassuringly at the boy, as he reached out a gentle hand to pat and stroke the child’s soft, copper hair. Layn didn’t give any sort of reaction to this, eyes still focused intently on his wounded “big brother”, but Firdos didn’t expect anything different. After all, they were virtually strangers.
“Ren is a fighter. I’m sure he will be just fine,” He soothed. He led Tamurlayn over to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. After he had gotten them as clean as he could, he urged Tamurlayn to go to sleep, reassuring him that he would stay awake and watch over his big brother. The boy had been resistant but already his eyes were starting to get heavy and after a couple more minutes he was out cold.
Firdos watched over Renge as he had promised. Fetching water to try and cool his burning forehead. The wounded assassin had developed a slight fever, and for a couple of hours the doctor feared the worst as he watched Renge struggle to hold on. But thankfully by early morning his fever broke and by late morning Renge was already showing signs of recovery.
Sunlight spilled into the apartment and fell over Renge’s eyes, irritating him and causing him to stir. He forced open strained, blood-red eyes and sluggishly turned to his left. He caught sight of Tamurlayn’s small form, curled up in a blanket on the floor. What was he doing over there?
“Glad to see you’re awake,” an exhausted voice sounded from his other side. Renge looked over to his right to see Dr. Firdos. His long face was tired and haggard, and he looked centuries older than his 34 long, hard years. Every time Renge pulled a stunt like this, it took years off his life, soon there would probably be nothing left. Pushing a hand into his tangled, brown hair he sighed, as a hint of a smile pulled at his tired lips.
Renge spoke before he could think. “Dos? What are you doing here?”
Firdos sighed again, this time in exasperation, though there was a hint of relief their as well. Renge was as tacktless as always. “That’s some way to greet the person who saved your life, “He grumbled, pointing at Renge’s stomach. The small man looked down and noticed the bandaging over his stomach. “Ow!” He also suddenly registered the pain he was in and at Firdos’s insistence he laid back down. “Damn, this sucks,” He pouted.
“You’re telling me. It always seems like the only reason you ever call me anymore is when you need something or when you manage get yourself into trouble,” Firidos said as he collected his things to leave. “Well since you seem to be well enough now, I’ve got some other things to take care of.”
“You’re leaving?” Renge looked unjustifiably put out.
“I’ll be back to check on you later. You can manage to stay out of trouble for a couple of hours can’t you?” Of course, from the mischievous look in Renge’s eyes it was doubtful, but with that wound he wasn’t likely to be causing any trouble for a least a couple more hours. “At the very least I’ll have to come back to help you wash out your hair.”
“My…” Renge looked down at his long silver tresses and spied the large stains of dried blood. Firdos smiled as the slim man began to curse loudly in his native tongue. The doctor made to stand up, but paused for a moment.
“You know..,” Renge stopped fussing over his hair to glance at him. “You really should be more careful. You aren’t just living for yourself anymore, are you? What do you think would happen to Tamurlayn if you were gone?”
Renge stared at him before looked over at the boy who was sleeping soundly, not four feet away. “Yeah….” The soft sound carried a heartbreaking degree of regret and sadness. Bringing an innocent child into this world of death and destruction, but knowing the alternative had the potential of being even worse, Renge had made a decision that he could no longer walk away from. He turned back to Firdos and smiled with the same lost eyes that the doctor had seen just the night before on a much younger face.
Speechless and a little heartbroken, Firdos leaned over to place a soft kiss on Renge’s lips then got up and left the apartment.
A couple days later and Renge and Tamurlayn were gone. Firdos came back to the empty apartment loft, standing on floorboards that had been scrubbed clean, to eradicate and residual DNA or trace of the pair. There was nothing left to signify that they had ever even been there, except a small folded note where the old mattress had been.
FIN
Pairing: N/A
Genre: Drama/Hints of Shounan-ai
Theme: Comfort/Friendship/shounan ai...ish
WORK SAFE, except for a little implied violence and near character death. ^^;
All the Lost Souls
Everything about the job had gone smoothly. He had received the request from a reliable source, so the money was good. Figuring out the safest way to get to the target had taken a little work, but good surveillance and a little bit of blackmail had proven very useful. With a good cover, Renge had safely gotten inside the building and eliminated the target with no problems.
But then the plan had hit a snag. When someone had discovered the body too early, the alarm was raised. In mere minutes the entire plan came crashing down around his ears.
Renge slumped against a dirty brick wall in a dark, secluded alleyway and checked for anyone who might have managed to follow him. The surrounding shadows were oppressive, but they were still and silent. It seems that he had managed to get away, but just barely.
He clenched his hand harder over his profusely bleeding abdomen, ignoring the sharp pain it caused, mindful only of what would happen if he couldn’t slow the bleeding. Already he was starting to feel light-headed. He forced his body away from the wall’s solid support and back into motion. He needed to get somewhere safe. He didn’t have time to rest.
Somehow he managed to make it back to the rented apartment without passing out from the blood loss. He fumbled with the busted door-handle and finally managed to force it open.
Inside the dirty, old apartment Renge was only a little surprised to find Tamurlayn awake and anxiously waiting for him. He was sitting in the dark on a barren mattress, the only real piece of furniture in the large one-room loft; he sat facing the door and with his little knees pulled tight to his chest.
“Brother!,” When he caught sight of Renge, the little boy sprang to his feet and raced towards the young man with a relieved smile, before the other stepped into the path of the moonlight and he saw that Renge’s hands and clothes were stained red with blood.
Almost immediately after he entered the loft Renge had collapsed, no longer capable of holding himself upright. The pain was excruciating. Darkness threatened to consume his vision and pull him under, but the he fought against it. He curled in on himself as his body was wracked with violent convulsions and harsh coughing fits that left flecks of blood all over the grimy floor. The smell of blood was thick and suffocating; it made him nauseous as it rose up in his throat and he was forced to expel it onto the ground.
Tamurlayn rushed to his side but was too scared to touch him. His small hands fluttered uselessly in the air above Renge’s curled up body, as he fought with indecision. Should he try to help him up, should he call someone? The child struggled to hold back terrified tears. He felt so helpless, usually when he was upset it was Renge who would comfort him, tell him what to do. But now it was Renge who needed the help and Tamulayn couldn’t do a thing. The tears won out.
Finally Renge’s coughing had subsided enough so that he could push himself into a more upright position. “Layn,” He strained to sound reassuring. “Tamurlayn, I need you to calm down and help me, alright?”
The child nodded resolutely, sniffling and rubbing the tears out of his amethyst eyes. He could do this, he could help. He would prove that he wasn’t weak and useless! He scrubbed his grubby hands over his hot, sun-kissed cheeks to eradicate the tear-stains and straightened out of his curled-up position to sit up straighter. The older smiled at the youth’s display of bravado; so much different then when they had first met and the young earth-shaker had been scared of his own shadow.
Renge told Layn to use his cell phone and call Dr. Firdos. He could faintly hear the doctor over the phone, assuring the frightened boy that he would be there as quickly as he could and hung up. By the time that the doctor had arrived, Renge, with Tamurlayn’s help, had managed to drag himself over to the mattress. Renge was lying on his back with Layn applying pressure to the wound on his stomach. His ruined black uniform top lay to the side of the mattress and his long silver hair was spilled over the mattress and across the floor like blood-stained moonlight.
Dr.Firdos sent Tamurlayn to fetch some water, afraid that the child would break without a task to occupy him. After Layn had scurried off to do as he was asked, the doctor then turned his attention to his wounded patient.
“Geez, Ren. What did you get yourself into this time?” Firdos sighed and shook his head sadly as he brushed a gentle hand over the younger man’s hair and hot forehead. He took a moment to survey the damage to Renge’s bloody and bruised body. His white skin was littered with scars; some of them fresh, others that were older and faint. But mostly the doctor focused his attention on the deep, long gash that had ripped its way into Renge’s abdomen.
Renge tried to focus on the older man, but only offered the other a faint, crooked smile. It certainly wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
The moonlight streaming in from the windows was the only source of light and it made the wound difficult to see. Leaving Renge there for just a moment, the doctor walked from the mattress over to the dingy little kitchen, in the other corner of the loft, to wash his hands and seek out some candles to light.
Tamurlayn was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back pressed against the front of the sink’s cabinets. His amethyst gaze was focused down on his hands, which he was ruthlessly rubbing together.
Crouching down closer, so that he could see in the apartment’s dim light, Dr. Firdos saw that Tamurlayn’s little, brown hands were trembling and stained red with blood, the color standing out in gruesome contrast to the young mocha skin. The child was rubbing hard at the stains, trying to erase them. His large eyes were looking and yet not seeing and he didn’t even seem to notice that he was crying.
Dr. Firdos felt his heart ache at the sorrowful display and he was reminded of the day that he had first met the boy. Vacant eyed and impossibly thin as he stood next to Renge. The assassin had “adopted” him from a child prostitution ring that had specialized in trafficking Permnians. After killing the ring’s leaders he had been unable to just leave the little boy there and had impulsively decided to take the poor thing along with him. He had brought him to Firdos afterwards, to look over; and those vacant, empty eyes had left a strong impression on the world-weary doctor, the eyes of a lost soul. Before then he had begun to forget how sad such eyes were, and he had never wanted to see them again.
The doctor hadn’t been sure that the child would survive, but somehow Renge had saved him. Pronouncing himself as the little boy’s “Big Brother” he somehow managed to coax Tamurlayn out of his shell and return to him as least a little of the childhood innocence that he had lost.
But if Renge died now, then what would happen to Tamurlayn?
Firidos knew that if he didn’t work fast Renge would die from the blood loss. Already that was a very real possibility considering how much Renge had apparently already lost.
Dr. Firdos washed his hands and was able to locate some candles. Then he quickly returned to Renge’s side. Working swiftly, he got the wound disinfected and bandaged up. Now he just prayed to the Holy Goddesses that Renge would be able to make it thru the night.
“Is he gonna be okay?”
Startled, Firdos turned around to see Tamurlayn standing there, vacant eyes trained on Renge’s unconscious figure, as if he were even there. “B-Brother isn’t going to die is he? I don’t want Brother to die….” The words were spoken in a whisper, like he were afraid that anything louder would cause the world to collapse around him. The doctor tried to smile reassuringly at the boy, as he reached out a gentle hand to pat and stroke the child’s soft, copper hair. Layn didn’t give any sort of reaction to this, eyes still focused intently on his wounded “big brother”, but Firdos didn’t expect anything different. After all, they were virtually strangers.
“Ren is a fighter. I’m sure he will be just fine,” He soothed. He led Tamurlayn over to the sink to wash the blood from his hands. After he had gotten them as clean as he could, he urged Tamurlayn to go to sleep, reassuring him that he would stay awake and watch over his big brother. The boy had been resistant but already his eyes were starting to get heavy and after a couple more minutes he was out cold.
Firdos watched over Renge as he had promised. Fetching water to try and cool his burning forehead. The wounded assassin had developed a slight fever, and for a couple of hours the doctor feared the worst as he watched Renge struggle to hold on. But thankfully by early morning his fever broke and by late morning Renge was already showing signs of recovery.
Sunlight spilled into the apartment and fell over Renge’s eyes, irritating him and causing him to stir. He forced open strained, blood-red eyes and sluggishly turned to his left. He caught sight of Tamurlayn’s small form, curled up in a blanket on the floor. What was he doing over there?
“Glad to see you’re awake,” an exhausted voice sounded from his other side. Renge looked over to his right to see Dr. Firdos. His long face was tired and haggard, and he looked centuries older than his 34 long, hard years. Every time Renge pulled a stunt like this, it took years off his life, soon there would probably be nothing left. Pushing a hand into his tangled, brown hair he sighed, as a hint of a smile pulled at his tired lips.
Renge spoke before he could think. “Dos? What are you doing here?”
Firdos sighed again, this time in exasperation, though there was a hint of relief their as well. Renge was as tacktless as always. “That’s some way to greet the person who saved your life, “He grumbled, pointing at Renge’s stomach. The small man looked down and noticed the bandaging over his stomach. “Ow!” He also suddenly registered the pain he was in and at Firdos’s insistence he laid back down. “Damn, this sucks,” He pouted.
“You’re telling me. It always seems like the only reason you ever call me anymore is when you need something or when you manage get yourself into trouble,” Firidos said as he collected his things to leave. “Well since you seem to be well enough now, I’ve got some other things to take care of.”
“You’re leaving?” Renge looked unjustifiably put out.
“I’ll be back to check on you later. You can manage to stay out of trouble for a couple of hours can’t you?” Of course, from the mischievous look in Renge’s eyes it was doubtful, but with that wound he wasn’t likely to be causing any trouble for a least a couple more hours. “At the very least I’ll have to come back to help you wash out your hair.”
“My…” Renge looked down at his long silver tresses and spied the large stains of dried blood. Firdos smiled as the slim man began to curse loudly in his native tongue. The doctor made to stand up, but paused for a moment.
“You know..,” Renge stopped fussing over his hair to glance at him. “You really should be more careful. You aren’t just living for yourself anymore, are you? What do you think would happen to Tamurlayn if you were gone?”
Renge stared at him before looked over at the boy who was sleeping soundly, not four feet away. “Yeah….” The soft sound carried a heartbreaking degree of regret and sadness. Bringing an innocent child into this world of death and destruction, but knowing the alternative had the potential of being even worse, Renge had made a decision that he could no longer walk away from. He turned back to Firdos and smiled with the same lost eyes that the doctor had seen just the night before on a much younger face.
Speechless and a little heartbroken, Firdos leaned over to place a soft kiss on Renge’s lips then got up and left the apartment.
A couple days later and Renge and Tamurlayn were gone. Firdos came back to the empty apartment loft, standing on floorboards that had been scrubbed clean, to eradicate and residual DNA or trace of the pair. There was nothing left to signify that they had ever even been there, except a small folded note where the old mattress had been.
FIN