A/N: I love you guys, but I think everyone forgot that this is an angst story. If you want fluffy fluff, you might get some coming up in "Shades of Green". The finale takes place somewhere in the implied future! And yes. I am showing off with all these fancy body terms. :D What? If I have to suffer through Anatomy and Physiology, I should at least be allowed to use some of the terms. HMPH!

Where is Your Heart?

It was cruel. So, so cruel. Rubbing the numb and annoying feeling on his heart mindlessly, as if he'd been bruised, he let his head roll towards the open window, feeling the warm and humid wind as it flitted through, gently lifting his billowing curtains. He closed his eyes, holding back a pained sigh as he felt the wound. You would think he'd be over it at this point, but it continued to plague him, causing him to sweat during sleepless nights and sob to himself during rare, haunted nightmares. The terrible reality of everything that had happened all those years ago fell onto his chest like he'd suffered one of her familiar punches. He refused to think about what she might have said, but the memory ran through his head anyway.

Stupid.

The wind blew around him affectionately, but in it he found no comfort. He'd closed himself off to the elements long ago, when they'd been taken from him. He'd foregone surfing. He never even went to the beach anymore. The mountains were ignored; the air shunned. He only drank when he was parched and ate when he was starved; he wanted nothing to do with things taken from the earth. His windows were usually tightly shut, but a sudden freak gale had burst them open and forced him to feel the air's soft touch, but he refused it in his mind. The wind deserved a better representative. As it was, Rio de Janiro, the city he'd once sang all the praises in the world to, was now dead to him: a mere spot on the map. It didn't matter anymore.

The only thing that mattered was movement.

He solely trained; fought until he was collapsed, panting and heaving on the floor, sometimes spewing bile and acid from his malnourished body, ribs painfully poking through his skin. He knew he looked pitiful among his unfamiliar companions, sunken face and carapace practically hanging off his bones. It'd been forever since he'd eaten and he closed his eyes to hold back a tear as he imagined a large blonde chiding him for doing this to himself.

Rai! What're ya doin'? Have a sit and eat sometin'; ya look like buzzard feed!

The man rolled onto his back as he pushed back the memories of the Capoeria ring. He'd been banished from attending any more classes. The master deemed him too unhealthy and banned the brooding Brazilian from casting any more of a bad light on his teachings. He smiled ironically, a weak tug at the corners of his mouth. He, personally, didn't blame the man. The students had tried to help him, coaxing him to restaurants after class and bringing a variety of native dishes into the class, but he'd refused it all. Scum like him didn't deserve anything. He'd let his team down. He'd been a terrible leader. He groaned as he heard the gloat/scolding echoing in his head.

Raimundo! You did not take your responsibilities seriously once again! Enough of this wishing and washing! I would never do this!

His hands covered his face, teeth clenching as he held it all back, but he could feel the pain seeping through the cracks of his already pitiful defenses. Flashes of blood-filled visions clouded his sight, blinding him as he relived the past. He tried to numb it back, but the memories were flooding him, overwhelming his tired and limited capabilities. He could feel the blood drying on his hands, the guilt as it stabbed into his heart. He'd exhausted all his resources in keeping it all locked away and everything was now breaking free. What have I done? Bracing himself for the pain, he let out a shocked and tortured gasp, eyes snapping open in wide surprise, rolling back and almost into his head as he gripped his chest tightly. Oh how he wished he could rip his heart out and smash it into silence, feeling it beat wildly against his rib-cage, trying to run away from the hurtful memories of the past. It was a jarring sound with no rhythm: only frantic thrashing in its place.

Deus...

His breathing dragged and ragged, forcing its way through his system, he reached out for his phone on the nightstand beside him. For all he abused his body now, something in him refused the notion he'd kill himself and still kept him alive. Each time he felt himself inhale the stale air of his dingy apartment, it was as if Jesus himself were supplying every single precious breath. Terror ran through his veins like poisoned adrenaline, breaking a cold sweat through his pores as his hairs stood on end, screaming into his head and demanding he seek help. However, his body betrayed him and his bony hand limply fell to the side of his bed before he could even touch the covering of his phone. I'm getting what I deserve for abusing myself for this long, he thought bitterly to himself, helpless as he lay there, heart beating as if it were racing to its end and his breath coming in dying gasps. A realization struck.

Even the wind left me, finally.

He felt nothing as he lay on his bed, arms spread like he was a starfish. The sweet caresses and temperamental, reassuring whispers into his ear were gone. For the first time in his life, he was completely and utterly alone just when he realized that he needed everyone else. The air around him was perfectly still, reminding him that the only friend he had left was now gone like the others; like the others, he'd killed it. And then all he could do is feel. His body was suddenly forced into perfect synchronization with him and all he could do is feel the damage he caused it. He felt his abdominal muscles sink into his body; felt his stomach growling in pain as acid ate at the organ from the inside. He could feel his heart growing exhausted as it desperately tried to keep him alive. He could feel his diaphragm weakly attempting to push his lungs upward just one last time so he could taste one last breath.

He tried to lick his cracked and blistered lips, but his tongue only stuck to the surface of his mouth, impossible to remove from the roof of it. He could feel his throat constrict into sandpaper, feeling the thick thirst and the dried roughness of his esophagus, cillia lining its surface brittle and dead. His vision spotted with blackness as he felt his optic nerves start to shut down with his cerebrum, followed by the rest of his brain. A weird buzzing flew through his ears as they stopped functioning too, his body losing its power quickly as it tried to keep him alive after his heart attack: he had too few electrolytes to support such stress on his welfare. Every neuron in his system was failing; homeostasis was too far from his reach to even hope recovering to. Too weak... he thought to himself and flinched as he felt himself shut down even faster. He was sleepy, but he couldn't sleep: he was too afraid to. The thought that he would never live to wake up another time made every conscious second even more miraculous than the last. It was amazing how such a process could feel so fast but so slow at the same time. He didn't want to die and every moment alive was something he thanked the almighty Father for and prayed for another; however, at the same time, he just wanted it to be over. The dragging torture was driving him insane.

Suddenly he was disconnected from his body, shot out of their synchronization and all he could do was relive the event that crushed every ounce of humanity he had in him while even his heart gave up on him.

He felt the blood dripping and coagulating as he stared at it in shock, watching it run down his fingers. The metallic smell filled his nostrils, flitting through his sinuses like an omnipresent creeper through the night. His eyes watered as he looked down at his feet and his jaw slacked, horrified when his own wide-eyed gaze was met with his familiar sky, now clouded over with a permanent film of pain and death. How could he? Didn't he love her? Then why did he? He looked up and saw the same question written on three other faces and suddenly he was reminded.

She didn't love him back.

She came to him, telling him about this... this man she'd met and was now engaged to. Engaged? Ridiculous! He'd yelled her down, tense with responsibilities and financial instability in a country he didn't even live in anymore for a family that was no longer his. She'd picked the wrong day and the wrong time to tell him anything of the sort and the others had warned her, but she stubbornly decided that he'd needed to know. He regretted the euphoria he'd felt when she walked through the door and the smile that had shone on his face when she approached him, as beautiful and as delicate as she'd ever been. But then he'd noticed the tight line her mouth was set in, lips pursed seriously - noticed that she moved with a stiffness to her usually fluid and graceful step. His heart thudded. He knew her. She only did this when she had news she knew were unpleasant to hear. As if she'd known he was aware that something was up, she simply blurted it out and effectively shattered his heart with two words:

I'm engaged.

Engaged? he repeated in shock and repeated it again in his head. That couldn't be! She'd left for only one year to go back to Japan and suddenly she comes back engaged? This was ridiculous! Impossible! Not even remotely probable! He thought she loved him! Hell, they'd even made love to each other the night before she left to help her through the year with her father and she comes back to him, like a bitch in top-notch clothing and back-breaker heels, to tell him she moved on after he'd been so set on her return, waiting for her. No wonder she'd stopped calling him. No wonder she ignored his emails. No wonder she'd just... disappeared from his life, only to reappear with this... shit. He knew she was talking to him, eyes looking down coldly, a scowl set on her face as if she was disgusted with the sight of him, but he couldn't listen for the life of him. Only heard the rush of blood through his veins, pounding in his ears, deafening him and blocking out everything else.

Yes. She'd come to him at a very, very bad time.

His fingers curled and tightened around the letter-opener he had in his hands, cyclically curling and releasing as he tried to calm himself, breathing in through his nose and exhaling deeply through his mouth, his stomach pressing deep into his spine as he tried to push away the red tinge clouding his vision. He wanted to hurt her like she was hurting him. He wanted her to feel her heart shatter and be stepped on while he stood there, looking absolutely alluring to the part of him that had yet to process that she'd cheated him out of the only thing he'd desired since he'd laid eyes on her. He wanted revenge.

"Raimundo?" came the soft question.

And he snapped. He lifted the letter-opener and stabbed it into her as swiftly and as harshly as the question had come. A curling scream rang out as she shrieked in horror. "What are you doing?" He couldn't speak, his jaw tense with anger as he simply stabbed into her, his other hand wrapping around the milky skin of her neck and squeezing the life out of her. She didn't deserve the air he supplied her with. She didn't deserve his wind. He simply stabbed, blood spilling over her dress and his family's letters. He could feel the liquid seeping onto his skin, staining him, but he didn't care. He wanted her dead.

And so she was.

But now he wanted the witnesses dead.

And so they were.

It wasn't until after he'd committed his crimes that he'd realized what he'd done. And the knowledge weighed down on him like he was suddenly choking on his own guilt. He ran away and into the temple vault, snatching up the Golden Tiger Claws before the monks would know what he'd done. He lost his home, his friends, and his new-found life all in a fit of raw anger. Slicing through the air, he jumped into the portal and went on the run until a trail was shaken off of him. It'd been a lonely, terrible time and he cried every day, wallowing in the sorrow and solemnity of what he'd done. He was brave enough to save the world, but too cowardly to face his judgment when he screwed up.

But, now, it was his time. He sent a prayer to Heaven, briefly wishing he'd get exactly what he deserved no matter how much it terrified him and wondering if his friends were happy in their afterlife. He closed his eyes as his body went slack and the final inhalation was spent...

Jade green eyes snapping open as he sat upright, Raimundo gripped his bare chest, gaping for fresh air as sweat dripped off him in buckets, shaking in fear and anxiety. His eyes darted as he took in his surroundings and saw that he'd fallen onto the floor, noticing that this wasn't the dingy apartment in Rio. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the floral scent of the room and feeling a new sense of glee when he discovered that his throat was properly hydrated. He felt his body, half-expecting bones to poke out of his skin and all his muscle tone to be gone and letting out a sigh of relief when he felt all of his mass rightfully on his body where it belonged. He looked up when he heard the door open and scrambled up onto the queen-sized bed.

A wave of rapture erupted through him when he saw someone slender, with skin like porcelain, eyes like the sky, and hair like an ebony curtain that fell to her waist enter the room. She sleepily closed the door behind her and he watched as she walked towards him, wearing the same shirt he'd worn earlier. She peeled it off and climbed into the bed, curling into his side as he sat up, her head on his shoulder. "You o'ay?" she asked incomprehensibly, ready to fall back onto the pillow in a heartbeat.

Heartbeat.

He suddenly grabbed her, his happily strong and healthy hands making her face him. She blinked, suddenly awake. "Wh-what are you doing, Rai?" she half-whispered, her voicebox raw with sleep and inactivity.

"Where's your heart?" he demanded, still shaking with fright.

"M-My what?" she asked, surprised by his sudden request and blushing red when he suddenly didn't even wait for a real answer. He laid her back onto the bed, climbing over her and laying his ear on her left breast, hearing her excited and slightly rattled heartbeat under the layers of skin, fat, muscle, and bone. He let out a large sigh of relief, his own heartbeat calming to a regular and peaceful rhythm. She shifted under him, unnerved by his forwardness. "Raimundo...? Are you okay?"

"I wasn't," he admitted, eyes closed as he listened to the music her heart was creating for him. "But I think I am now."

She pushed him off gently and sat up, back against the wooden headboard. He sat in front of her, filling with joy as he was coming to the realization that what he'd had was only a nightmare and she was his reality. She cupped his face in her hands gently. "What happened?" she asked, plush lips curled downwards with worry and doll-like face reflecting concern.

And he broke again; this time, for real.

His eyes filled with tears and she started to panic, not sure what to do. "H-Hey! What're you doing? No tears!" He started to sob, his chin tucking into his chest and his shoulders quivering with the force of his cries. She made comforting shushing noises and pulled his head down into her chest as her normally strong and confident leader was reduced to a weeping mess. "D-don't cry, Rai..." she whispered as his tears rolled down his face and onto her skin. "I'm here for you." He wrapped his arms around her tightly, refusing to let go as he laid his ear on her left breast once more and listened.

There it was.

That clear thum-thump: what was it?

Her heart.

Where had it been?

Right in her chest. Where it belonged.

~*Finale End*~

A/N: I gave you guys a nicer ending than I originally planned, but the angst was so high I needed to soften it: even if it was a little. lol. The story wound down as I got calmer from an earlier rage, so writing a bad ending just didn't feel right. Please review if you would please and if you'd like, please check out my Chuya piece "Fascination" if it tickles your fancy.