FRAGMENTED - Fragment 10, Part 1
Title: Fragmented
Author: gildeddiscourse
Rating: Strong R
Genre: Action, Horror, Suspense, Drama, Angst, Thriller
Summery: 2006 was a hard year, rocky, strained; mottled with obstacles and too many pains to count. As 2007 approaches, promising a horizon of new possibilities and kinder times, Dong Bang Shin Ki happily immerse themselves in the upcoming release of their latest Japanese single; eagerly praying for a successful year free of pain and hardship. However, when one of their members suddenly turns up missing, their hopes are swiftly shattered. The five boys are immediately thrust into a cruel reality far more harsh and twisted then the evil in the depths of their darkest nightmares. An unknown man with an ugly agenda destroys their world and possibly their lives as they are forced to play with the very strings of life and death to save someone they love. How far would you be willing to go to save the life of your friend, your brother? Would you be willing to sacrifice blood? Flesh? How about your very soul? The boys of Dong Bang Shin Ki will quickly discover just how far a human can be pushed all for the sake of love...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This work is a piece of fiction only. I make no claims to know or own anyone there in mentioned. (Save of course for the occasional original character) I am making no profit from this; it is strictly for entertainment purposes slowly. The boys are property of themselves and each other. The plot/interpretation however is mine.
Previous Fragments : Trailer, Part 1A, Part 1B, Part 2, Part 3A, Part 3B, Part 4A, Part 4B, Part 4C, Part 5A, Part 5B, Part 6A, Part 6B, Part 7A, Part 7B, Part 7C, Part 8A, Part 8B, Part 8C, Part 9A, Part 9B, Part 9C
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“Fragmented”
Tenth Fragment : “A Flower Amongst Sharks”
My heart says near the end of this road,
In a place not that far away
We're getting closer
- “Remember” By DBSK
-Wednesday, January 17th 2007
- 12:54 pm
“There we go.” The attending nurse declared, adjusting the crimson filled plastic bag that swung slightly in the cradle of the intravenous rack.
“One last unit and you’ll be leaving me.” She continued teasingly, offering a warm smile as she checked the catheter in the pale tenor’s right hand; smoothing over a fresh slip of tape. Junsu replied with a smile of his own before glancing compulsively down at the lined arm. The cold liquid felt peculiar as it slipped into his veins. It tingled yet stung ever so slightly at the same time.
“Does it hurt?” The woman asked kindly, noting the curious expression on the handsome young man’s features.
“Mm.” The Korean shook his head, adjusting onto his back; mindful of the tender injury in his side. The surgeons hadn’t stitched the bullet wound, in fear of festering an infection, and merely kept it clean, covered and bound with clear pressure bandages. They had instructed the sick youth to be extra careful moving or risk aggravating the delicate injury, causing it to break and bleed freely once again. Something, they had told him, he could not afford to have happen in his current state.
“No, not really. It just feels.. strange.”
The nurse smiled, resting a gentle hand against his shoulder; offering a comforting squeeze.
“It usually does feel a little odd. You were anesthetized during the last procedure. A transfusion requires a larger gauge needle. Blood platelets are delicate and a smaller catheter would crush them, choking the line. So it’s not uncommon to feel a little uncomfortable.” She informed him quietly, idly adjusting the boys’ blankets. “If it starts to really hurt or bother you, call for a nurse alright? It shouldn’t hurt once the initial sting wears off.” She clarified with a kind expression, efficiently eyeing his statistics.
To be honest, she was amazed at how well the Korean was doing. All of the medical staff were, in fact; he hadn’t been expected to survive. And yet, here he was, smiling and even sharing a laugh with the ICU attendants now and then. It was truly a miracle in her eyes.
A faint squeak drew the nurses’ attention.
The door to the private ward crept open and a bandaged head poked in somewhat hesitantly.
After a brief pause, Yunho shyly shuffled into the room, shadowed by a quiet Yoochun. A stern look from the present medical aid however, sealed the new arrivals’ slippers to the floor just inside the threshold.
“Oh no. No visitors. I’m sure you boys were informed.” The woman stated, although not unkindly; hands propped upon slender hips. “You can visit with him once he’s been transferred.”
Rubber soles squeaked across the linoleum as the dancer cleared his throat. “We asked for permission to sit with him. His physician said he might fidget a bit from the transfusion. We thought we could keep him company, and keep him still.” Yunho explained glancing at the baritone who had yet to move from his place at the door. She eyed the brunette suspiciously, before slim orbs swiveled down to her patient, whom had gently tugged at her sleeve.
“Please? I would like the company.” Junsu asked, gracing the pretty young woman with that heartbreakingly innocent, angelic smile of his. Yunho almost grinned in triumph then and there. No one, absolutely no one to date had ever been able to resist that particular look.
And, as predicted, the nurse all but melted.
“Alright.” She conceded patting his shoulder once again before turning to the elder boys. “But sit and rest if you’re staying. You’re both supposed to be recovering as well.” The lady chastised with a sturdy gaze.
Stepping towards the wall, the short woman relocated two unoccupied chairs next to the bed before firmly pulling the lead dancer towards the first. Yunho thanked her and settled into the instructed seat, gently gathering the sniffling youth’s hand into the warm embrace of his own, much larger, digits.
“You too, dear.” The nurse ordered, clasping Yoochun’s arm, guiding the complacent boy around the foot of the bed, then nudged him down into the grasp of the second chair. The former American smiled his thanks, but remained otherwise silent. “Now, don’t you boys excite or stress him. He is doing better, yes, but it won’t take much taxing to keep him in the ICU. If I hear one blip from that monitor, permission or not, I will have you removed.” The attendant then warned, shaking a stern finger at the musicians. Yet despite the verbal talking to, there was warmth in her eyes.
“Yes ma’am.” Yunho consented easily, squeezing Junsu’s hand with familiar affection; his own bandaged appendage laying cradled protectively in his lap.
The nurse smiled, content the singer’s would heed her orders, and proceeded to fondly tuck the ill Kim snuggly beneath the blankets. “Get some rest, hun. That’s probably going to make you real drowsy, real quick.” A hand rose, carefully tapping against the blood filled bag.
Junsu smiled once again and nodded. Satisfied, the woman bowed then just as quietly slipped from the room. The tenor’s eyes followed her out before turning to his leader.
Glancing between his companions, he paused a moment, brow curled briefly with the obvious signs of concentration before meeting Yunho’s patient gaze.
“Where’s Changmin?” He queried softly. The brunette shifted in his seat, following the trail of red rope up to the swinging bag suspended above their heads.
There was an odd look in his eyes.
”He’s asleep. His attending nurse gave him something to relax.” The elder boy replied, gaze locked on that ominous looking liquid. Junsu squeezed his companion’s hand, drawing the others attention back to the questioning look upon his own features. “His arm was hurting.” Yunho supplied when he spied the worry and confusion in the young sable haired boy’s eyes. Without allowing the tenor time to question just why their magnae was in pain however, he continued, “And Manager-hyung went with the authorities to see what they could salvage from the apartment.”
A kind thumb idly smoothed over cold knuckles, careful to avoid the plastic tube secured in place just above the wrist. “How are you feeling?” Yunho asked, attention firmly on the younger boy. The look was certainly scrutinizing. At first glance, Junsu appeared no better then he had that morning, yet, he looked no worse either. That had to count for something, right?
“Fine.” The tenor replied automatically, earning himself a stern look from their band leader. Junsu smiled shyly, extracting his hand to dab a tissue at his nose. Yunho almost immediately reclaimed it.
“Better. They said they’re going to move me out of here soon.” He clarified, casting his gaze around the isolated ward that was in fact almost eerily silent, even with the steady hum and beep of the many mechanisms.
Elegant, tiny little fingers jerked compulsively against the sheets, and the bedridden vocalist blinked in surprise. The brunette patted his
unbound hand reassuringly.
“That’s the reaction they warned us about. Some people spasm. Its normal, don’t worry.” He assured. “You may also fall asleep, so if you have any pressing questions, speak now.” Yunho instructed, confirming what the nurse had said not moments before. Junsu licked plump lips, sweeping a careful gaze over what he could see of his companions from his current vantage point nestled against the pillows.
Nodding, he inquired, “I didn’t get to ask this morning. How is everyone else?... Your head?”
Bound fingers rose almost self consciously, brushing along the pale swatch of bandaging encircling a tanned brow. “I’m alright. It’s just a little bump.” Yunho shrugged, downplaying his injury as his eyes rose somewhat hopefully towards the copper blond. Yoochun however did not meet the gaze. Instead he remained completely oblivious, removed from the conversation as if he wasn’t even present physically as well as mentally. Dark hazel orbs remained where they lay locked on some nondescript speck splattered upon the far wall.
Sighing, the lead dancer turned his attention back to the tenor. “Yoochun’s got a few scrapes and his lungs are a bit aggravated. But it’s nothing serious.” He supplied, crossing bare ankles beneath the hard plastic chair. “Changmin got hit in the arm. The bullet didn’t strike anything vital though. You’re the one we’ve all been worried about.” Purposefully, Yunho left out the most emotionally damaging news however. The younger Kim was just starting to recover, he couldn’t find it in his heart to hurt the boy with the losses this latest attack had caused.
Junsu sniffled softly; soaking up the information like a sponge as he inspected what visible damage he could find dotting his bandmates
frames. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be much; as the leader had testified.
“Well,” he piped up, offering a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine.” A bound hand rose, awkwardly tapping at a pale nose that, for once, wasn’t so red. “See? Even the flu is getting better. My breakfast even stayed down this morning. They have me on antibiotics.” Yunho couldn’t help but return the boys shy smile then.
The mood maker did, in fact, sound far less congested and the glassy look that had taken up residence in the younger man’s eyes had faded substantially. For that, at least, he was very thankful.
“Have you heard anything yet? About what happened? I remember so little of it… Just you yelling and then, pain..” Junsu asked cautiously, cool fingers curling around the comforting hand of his elder bandmate. The smile upon the leaders’ face faltered for a moment, struggling not to fall entirely.
He wasn’t exactly successful.
“The police confirmed the attack was perpetrated by the same men who took Jaejoong. They matched a DNA sample from his abduction to a shooter that was killed during pursuit.. And, last I heard, they were still tailing a second.” He paused, as if debating what all to say. “There hasn’t been any word on why they attacked us though.” Yunho went quiet for a moment, his thumb idly stroking smooth skin.
Junsu’s free hand lifted from the sheets, the wrist rubbing carefully at eyes that began to feel strangely heavy.
“They’re going to be shuffling us into the same ward soon. Yoochun and Changmin too. You’ll be in my room.. Then, Manager-hyung said once we’re all patched up properly they’ll be moving us to a safe house for a while.”
The sable haired young man blinked, digesting the information and nodded somewhat sluggishly. Settling deeper into the folds of linen and cotton, his gaze swayed; lashes fluttering with a soft, almost contemplative hum.
“That’ll be nice... It’s kind of lonely here.” The tenor spoke lightheartedly, turning enough to gaze sleepily at the silent baritone. Yoochun, once again, appeared oblivious to the scrutiny. “I’m not used to having a room all to my self.”
Yunho followed that lamb-eyed gaze and almost sighed. He wasn’t quite sure what had caused the blond to slip into this perpetual state of conscious removal, but he didn’t like it. And yet, nothing he nor Changmin attempted thus far had managed to rouse the former American from his self imposed vow of silence. In point of fact, the leader could not remember hearing a single word out of the boy since the attack.
“You know, I think we threaten him.. Eien, I mean.” Junsu mumbled around a yawn, redirecting the brunette’s attention. The dancer’s brow arched curiously at the odd statement. Leaning forward, he hooked his elbows over the bedrail; puzzled.
“Why do you say that?” Yunho asked softly, noting the boys growing lethargy with a hint of resignation.
“Well, think about it.. First, he sends men to kill us without finishing his game.” The tenor replied and the lead dancer felt the urge to shiver at how easily the younger vocalist spoke of murder. Never mind their own.
“And?... Second?” The brunette urged when Junsu paused. The ill boy shifted, as if trying to shake himself free of the ever encroaching blanket of slumber that beckoned oh so nicely. Glancing at the elder dancer, Junsu stared blankly for a moment before lashes fluttered closed resolutely.
“He cheated.” The tenor murmured matter-of-fact.
Confused, Yunho shifted to the edge of his seat; brows knit. Even Yoochun turned slightly at that blunt statement, a mildly curious expression dancing in subdued eyes for the first time since his arrival. Both boys were baffled. They hadn’t a clue what Junsu was talking about.
Yunho squeezed the muddled singers hand in quite urging.
.
“What?” The leader questioned when no explanation was forth coming.
“He cheated.” Junsu repeated, turning his head towards the quiet blond, nuzzling sleepily into the grasp of fluffy pillows. “When.. he broke hyung’s fingers... He stomped on his foot.. to make him scream so we wouldn’t.. win...” The reply was barely audible, mumbled into the press of cool bedding as sleep settled into the tired youth’s bones.
Yet, as silent as it was, it still caught the two elder Korean’s completely by surprise. Round eyes rose, twin sets of dark brown locking over the somnolent figures frame in mutual dumbfounded shock.
How could they have missed something like that?
They had little time to digest their surprise however. All too soon it seemed, the moment was interrupted by the opening of the door.
“Yunho-san?” A mellow voice called and the addressed singer turned confused and certainly taken aback by the newest arrival.
The head of Avex himself currently stood patiently just outside the door.
“M-Matsuura-sama?"
A manicured hand rose, beckoning to the younger man. “May I speak with you?” The Japanese president questioned, eyes trained solely on the eldest, stubbornly refusing to chance a glance at the bedridden tenor. Yunho blinked, nodding dumbly before turning to catch Yoochun’s equally puzzled gaze.
“Yuchun?” The dancer questioned, ever so gently lowering the now deeply slumbering Junsu’s uninjured hand to rest atop the blankets. The blond fidgeted a moment, pearly teeth worrying a full bottom lip before parting to reply.
“I’d… like.. to stay… If I can..” the baritone breathed, the first words he’d uttered in what had to be hours.
There was something in his gaze, something small, almost wounded and yet needing at the same time; something that clutched at the brunette’s heart strings almost violently despite the joy at simply hearing the younger vocalist speak. He could not find it in himself to deny him. Nodding, Yunho chanced one last look upon the sleeping young man, before climbing quietly from his seat. The whisper of slippers across the polished floor preceded the soft click of the door once more slipping shut.
The isolated ward fell silent; the faint whisper of oxygen through plastic and the staccato blip of the heart monitor feeling uncomfortably loud.
The blond remained still, attention locked upon the immobile piece of wood dutifully shielding the rest of the world from the turbulent riptide of emotions currently wrecking havoc behind burnt-umber eyes.
The minutes seemed to tick by endlessly, hollow and almost unreal.
The hard chair squeaked as the baritone shifted, fortifying himself before turning to finally face the young man nestled in the sterile hospital bedding.
For a long, uncomfortable moment he merely looked at him; really, looked at him.
Yoochun swallowed uncomfortably, fidgeting where he sat.
A hesitant hand rose, hovering in mid air above the blankets for several agonizing heartbeats. Then, brow knit sharply, it ever so gently lowered; coming to rest carefully atop Junsu’s bandaged fingers. The blonds jaw clenched, lips pressed tightly against one another.
Quiet breath faltered, shaking as it squirmed into the air and shoulders squared firmly.
A heartbeat later, a second hand moved, bravely joining the first.
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-Wednesday, January 17th 2007
- 1:12 pm
“What is it?” Yunho whispered softly as he edged out of the oppressively silent hospital room and slipped the door closed behind him. He was surprised to find not only the president of Avex waiting for him in the otherwise empty hallway, but their manager as well whom appeared dusty and disheveled; most likely having just returned from scavenging the ruins of their once home.
Both men bore rather somber expressions which did little to ease his apprehension.
Man-Young sighed softly, shifting his gaze from the young Korean to the knowing eyes of their Japanese acquaintance.
He didn’t know where to begin.
The weight of the entire situation hung heavily upon his shoulders, engraving deep frown lines about his mouth and weathered brow. In so short a time, the elder Korean felt as if all the worry and fear had prematurely aged him a decade beyond his years.
“We’ve got a problem.” Matsuura declared quietly, tucking a hand into the pocket of pressed slacks for lack of a better distraction. Song nodded mutely.
Alarm immediately flashed across the brunettes’ features, hot cocoa orbs snapping wide.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
The older men hesitated a moment, sharing a look before replying.
“SM called.” Man-Young supplied, carding stiff fingers through a mussed mane. Yunho blinked, head cocked queerly at the strange utterance. It certainly wasn’t the reply he’d been expecting. The relief he felt at knowing nothing detrimental had occurred to their missing companion was tempered only by his confusion.
“And?” The singer mumbled, peering closely at one man then the other, utterly befuddled. SM entertainment, despite the occasional hiccups here and there, had been rather prudent when it came to their lives. Granted they often pushed them a little too hard, but he’d never though them outright cruel for cruelties sake. In his emotionally exhausted state, he was unsure what sort of issue they could have presented to the already complicated situation. “How is that a problem?” Yunho muttered, idly itching the replaced bandage swathing his brow. The gauze, while soft, irritated the sensitive flesh no matter how it was wrapped.
“They’ve ordered you four to return home. Immediately.” The manager explained, the simple statement falling like a weight from burdened lips. The brunettes’ breath caught and his stomach plummeted into cold toes.
“W-What?” The boy blinked dumbly, unable to properly digest this newest development and its inevitable consequences. A soft, honey tanned hand fell to hang limply at his side in shock. “They-?.. Why? Don’t they know what’s happening?”
“Yes.” Man-Young replied, watching sadly as confusion and hurt warred with budding anger in his young charges once warm coffee eyes. It pained him to put this young man, to put any of them, in this situation. If he could save them this agony he would. But he knew it was far beyond him and his ability to control. That, perhaps more then anything else, stung the worst.
“Then, how could they-?”
“They believe it is in your best interest to remove you from the dangers of this.. game. And return you home, where you are safest.” It was spoken mildly, bland without the inflection of emotion, and that detachment, perhaps meant to help, did little more then infuriate the brunette.
Did they truly not understand what was being asked of them?
Yunho frowned; a dark brow lowered, casting a smoldering shadow upon a wan visage.
“And kill Jaejoong in the process.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Matsuura sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to forestall an oncoming migraine. He, himself, had grown quite fond of these boys and Jaejoong in particular. The energetic, outgoing young man was like a breath of fresh air in a stagnant room; cheerful, kind and compassionate to a fault. He could bring joy to the darkest of souls with a smile alone. And, while he understood the Korean companies stand point, he did not agree with it. “To them, one loss is far more acceptable than five.”
“No.” Yunho stated, slender features hardening before their very eyes into a calm mask of resolve and determination. “I don’t care what they want. We’re not leaving.”
That was the answer Man-Young had expected; outright refusal. And while he agreed with it, and was, in point of fact, quite proud of the young man’s strength and conviction, it certainly fouled up an already muddy situation.
“I’m afraid, it’s not that simple.” Song replied softly, sympathy painted like rouge across his face. Coffee orbs snapped to the older Korean, burning straight through to his soul.
“Why? It’s our lives on the line!” A hand rose, an unbroken finger jabbing at a slender chest. “We have a right to decide what’s best for us. Not them.” Yunho barked, quite obviously affronted and agitated by the callous orders being heaped upon them. With every word his ire and his voice rose, echoing down the sterile halls; urging more than one curious set of eyes to turn in their direction.
“I understand that. And I completely agree.” The Japanese man replied. A hand rose to sooth the boys growing anger, calm as it rested upon a tense shoulder.
Glancing about their surroundings as a passing nurse eyed them strangely, the businessman spotted a waiting area to their right and captured the young singers arm. Guiding the musician towards the cluster of chairs, he held his tongue until the irritated boy begrudgingly lowered into a stiff seat. Settling into his own, Matsuura sighed, frowning severely.
“This is your decision to make, and should you boys choose to stay I will do all within my power to aid you in any way that I can.”
Swallowing, Yunho studied the Japanese president a moment.
A tongue darted out, dampening chapped lips before he asked, “Then, what exactly is the problem?”
“Are you familiar with H.O.T.?” Man-Young questioned, straying from the seating area, extracting a fist full of yen from his pocket. Eyeing the smattering of vending machines lining the halls, he selected the beverage unit and purchased two cans of milk tea. He could use the caffeine, and he dare not risk coffee after his last accident. Burnt fingers still ached unhappily, even hours later.
“Of course.” Yunho nodded, accepting one of the chilled cans upon the man’s return. He shook it idly, and then popped the top, sipping the relaxing brew.
“Then you are aware of their dispute with your company.” Song offered the second to the Japanese man as he spoke, who refused kindly. Hazel eyes watched as the injured man lowered into a chair across the isle, aging digits rubbing a sore thigh.
“Yes, everyone with ties to the music industry back home is. But, what does that have to do with anything?” The leader queried, mindlessly tracing a thumb along the rim of the can.
Matsuura sank deeply into the embrace of the hard hospital chair, mute as the two foreigners spoke. He had been thoroughly informed of the circumstances pertaining to their current topic of choice and the implications it cast across present happenings. But he was still a spectator to the information, and thus, kept his mouth shut; allowing the Korean’s to speak uninterrupted.
Song leaned forward, elbows propped atop his knees; that sharp gaze locked firmly with the young singers. “Are you familiar with the consequences they suffered due to their departure from SM?” It was dangerous territory they were treading, and he knew it. He also knew that it was unfortunately necessary. SM entertainment had made certain of that with their demands and underhanded tactics.
Continue to Part 2