Calculation

By Katia-chan

A/N: Inspiration is hitting, though for all the wrong projects. I actually have things planned, and yet those are the ones not getting done. I hope this will be an alright substitute for now. I'm not entirely sure where it spawned from, but spawn it did, and I am a slave to my own brain.

Disclaimer: Yeah, we've already been through this quite enough times.

Dedication: To all those I owe fanfiction; may this pacify you for a short time at least.

Guys, reviews really do keep me living and writing. I cherish every one, and beg for them shamelessly.

Enjoy!

XXX

How did I let this happen?

"It was her fault…her fault…"

I feel like I've been drifting, but when I return to myself, we're still standing in the main room, and my arms are still around her, still restraining…though she's stopped fighting me now, and merely slumps, limp and spent, against me, chanting her mantra in fury, or anguish, I can't really tell which, and don't particularly care.

"You should go rest. You're upset." I hardly recognize my own voice as it falls out of my mouth, flat, empty. Her head snaps up, and she looks at me, desperately searching my face, my eyes, her tiny fingers gripping my wrists.

I close her out. She sees nothing.

"Shigure…" imploring, gentle. I hold her tightly, and raise her to her feet, and wish she would stop talking, because I think I might be able to kill her right now, without a second thought.

"You're upset," I repeat mechanically, and half carry her out of the room, my eyes averted away from the faint stain of blood on the floor, that I know won't ever come out.

We enter her rooms, and I bring her to her bed, setting her there. I stand, looking down at her for a second, trying not to let my disgust show in my face.

"Go see to Hatori," she says quietly, leaning exhaustedly back on the bed, and it's a physical effort to keep my hands from making fists. Her tone is…dismissive, mixed with concern, but not nearly enough, and I hate her for it.

She's gone too far this time, and I…don't know what to do about it.

"Of course," I say, more stiffly than I intended, and don't miss the very faintest glimmer of triumph behind her worried eyes. She's forced the rebel to bow before her; it pleases her.

Of course she's worried for him, but she knows she's done some damage I can't instantly spit back at her, and so, even though one of her juunishi is broken and bleeding somewhere, she has only eyes to see the cracks she's made in me, and she's proud.

I hate her for that, too.

I turn away. My steps are firm and measured as I leave her room, and my voice normal as I tell one of the maids to keep an eye on her. I don't start to falter until I nearly reach Hatori's rooms, and then I feel like I might fall at any second, though my feet continue to move, always steady, always forward.

I push open the door without knocking, grasping at some semblance of control, and quietly enter the room. It's been some time, and the blood's all been cleaned up. Aya stands by the bed, where Hatori is resting against pillows; both of them look pale and drawn. I watch both of them stiffen as I enter, and then Ayame looks over his shoulder, and there's visible relief on his face…I'm not Akito.

"Shigure," he murmurs, half a sigh, half a plea. I walk into the room to stand beside him.

"How is he?" I ask softly; I feel like we're standing a deathwatch. I half expect Hatori to look at us, wave us away, tell us not to worry, but he sits silently, aged decades, caved in on himself. It scares me.

"It's stopped bleeding," Ayame offers softly, miserable. Then he turns his attention to Hatori, gently touching his shoulder. "I've got your bag…what do you need?"

I'd forgotten somehow…he's going to be in charge of caring for himself. Hatori's voice is numb, but steady, as he tells Ayame the name of some medicine I've never heard of. Ayame searches, and comes up with it and then, on instruction, puts it into an eyedropper. Hatori slowly drops his hand from his face and takes the eyedropper, tilting his head back, but his hands shake so much…he can't hold the thing steady. I watch Ayame wince and take it from him, gently touching Hatori's face and applying the drops. Hatori flinches, but does nothing more, his face set and blank. Ayame gently reapplies the bandages, craftsman's fingers working gently, and then lays a blanket over him. He leans his head back on the pillows, looking withered, and closes his one good eye.

Ayame stands by, helpless, until I put a hand on his shoulder and move him back a little, making him sit. I sit beside him, silent, watching as Hatori slowly drifts towards sleep, not moving.

"He asked about Kana," Ayame says, a long time later, very quietly, after he's sure Hatori's sleeping. "I didn't know what to say…and he took something so he'd sleep." That was our Ha-san…always practical.

"Have you heard anything about her?" I ask, just as quietly. I'd almost forgotten about her, to be honest. She's already gone. I saw it in her face as soon as she saw all the blood. It will be easier to just not think about her now. She isn't any of my concern.

Ayame shakes his head, looking lost, his eyes restlessly searching the room, until after what seems like forever, he looks right at me.

"I don't know how this happened…he should have known…"

He stares at me, searching my face desperately for answers, but there's another question in his eyes, one he's afraid to know the answer to.

'Was it you?'

I feel like I've been slapped.

"I don't know," I say slowly, staring at him and praying he believes me, because otherwise I don't know what I'll do. "I tried to warn him…he wouldn't listen." I have to drop my eyes, because whatever else I've done, whatever I've put into motion, I can't stand being given any of the blame for this. For once, this is all in her hands. She and I know what necessary sacrifice is, and we've both done it, for our own purposes, to friends and enemies alike, and we both do it when it's needed, without real regrets.

But damn her…this wasn't necessary, at all.

Everything is so off kilter; I don't even realize that I've let myself start to shake until Ayame's hand closes on mine in the dimness, his fingers clutching at mine, like hers do…but so much different, asking so much less, and yet needing so much more. I grip his hand back, my head turned away, trying not to think of the ragged cut on Hatori's face, or of Akito's shrieks; trying to pull myself together, collect what's been scattered everywhere, before I try to do or say anything else

A few minutes later, in the silence of the room, I manage to get myself back under control; manage to clear my head a little, and then I can finally start to take care of things. I move a little closer to Ayame, and let him rest his head against my shoulder. He hesitates for less than half a second, and I know it's because he's still not entirely sure that I didn't play some part in this. But I'm composed now, and his suspicion doesn't bother me. Though I have to hope it'll fade in time…I still don't want today resting on my shoulders.

This is hers alone to carry. I refuse to share it with her.

I take deep breaths, lightly rubbing Ayame's back as we both watch Hatori; hovering, vigilant. I slowly let my unearned guilt settle safe at the back of my mind, and push away the faint lingering fear of blame. When all of that is gone, I find my thoughts clear, clear enough that I can start fitting things back together in their proper place. I start to wonder how I am going to fix this…it's ruined so much, but I know there's a way. I just have to find it, which I will.

I also know, though this won't stop me from wanting her, that even though I've come out of my confused fury, back to myself, back to being calm again and rational, that even though I love her, I hate her too, passionately, and more violently in my regained calm. It's quiet hatred, and it's patient, and I can wait until the proper time to show it to her.

But I know that I'll show it, and that I'll use it, and that I'll make her pay dearly for this.

She can't expect any less from me.

XXX

TTFN

Katia-chan