A/N: Well, this is it guys. This is the end. The last chapter. The closing line. It's kind of sad, but I'm also really happy because this is the first fanfic I've ever finished. Wow! And I started this a whole year ago!

I know I kind of promised some Kilugon but the more the story went on the more it became about trust and friendship than love. Honestly I only planned half of this, the story just told me how it wanted to be written. But don't worry! Because this isn't the end, not yet. There will be a sequel soon, titled Hunter's Luck. If you want to continue the journey with our boys keep an eye out for it, okay?

Killua felt like he was floating. It wasn't a pleasant feeling; there was nothing to grab at, nothing to steady himself with and try as he might he couldn't seem to get his sluggish body to obey his will.

Illumi's presence always seemed to do that to him though. Created a kind of fog over his mind. There were whole chunks of his memories missing from when his brother had directly ordered him to do something, his mind short circuiting as his body leapt into action in order to follow that command. He used to use it as a training technique for Killua, "to get him over his sentimentalities," he'd said and to reinforce his already embedded killing instinct.

The assassin had never before questioned the power Illumi held over him. It had seemed natural. Now it seemed anything but; it was dangerous and manipulative and almost kind of sadistic. How had he never seen that before? There was trust and then there was blind, ignorant servitude. He was beginning to realize he might just fall into the latter category and it made him sick to his stomach.

All those people he'd killed, that had been for Illumi. And even when Killua had been in charge, when he'd accepted the missions himself, it'd still been for his family in one form or another. He'd never had a problem with it, not really but suddenly memories were swimming forward bright and vivid in the darkness of his mind.

He was young, at the time, maybe three or four.

"Life is fragile," Illumi had told him. The baby bird Killua had brought to him sat calm and quiet in his hand, it's wing held limply at its side where it was broken. It didn't make a sound, just peered demurely at them both from tiny, dark eyes. "Life is fragile." And then he'd crushed it, the bird giving one dying scream that was off before it'd even really begun. He'd brushed the feathers from his fingers and walked away and that scream had echoed in Killua's head for days and days and days. It was not the first death he had seen. It was merely the first that had affected him.

Then, later when he was six. He'd held a knife at the throat of a girl who was younger than him. She wasn't even awake, her face soft and peaceful in sleep. His fingers had trembled but before he could steel himself Illumi was there, pressing his blade down into the curve of her neck. She'd died without a sound and he'd been punished for months for showing hesitation.

When he was eight Illumi killed the dog he tried to keep as a pet. When Killua was nine and brought home a kitten, he'd killed it himself after one look from his brother.

At fourteen he'd fallen off a building in the middle of a chase. He'd broken his arm, nothing serious, but when he returned home Illumi had broken his other one to teach him to watch his step.

He'd accepted all of it without a second thought.

Vile was burning low in Killua's gut, anger and betrayal thick in his throat. He'd long ago given up on having a traditional love for his family. Hell, he hardly tolerated most of them. But he'd trusted them, at the very least and the thought that they had been using him, Illumi the biggest offender of all...

"Killua."

His name was gasped in pain and the assassin was pulled from his thoughts violently, sucking in a deep breath (or at least he felt like he did, there was something about this floating dream world that told him nothing in it was real, not even himself) .

That had been Gon's voice, he was positive, and suddenly he wished he knew what was happening out there outside of this prison. One minute he'd been standing next to the Hunter, the next walking slowly towards Illumi, though that was a bit more hazy of a memory. After that? Nothing.

It seemed like only seconds later and there came a sick wet sound, the crunch of breaking bones and the squelch of ripping flesh. The scent of blood hit him so hard that Killua jolted himself back into consciousness. It was the smell but also a tiny, breathless noise that he'd heard a million times before from a million different victims. The only difference was that this time, he knew it came from Gon.

Killua blinked his eyes furiously, unable to focus on anything but the person in front of him. Then his body moved on its own, retracting his arm from where he'd been trying to deliver a death blow and allowing Gon to fall away from him, down towards the glittering ocean. The Hunter turned, caught Killua's eyes with his own for a brief moment and then he was gone, water sweeping in over his head with nothing but a quiet splash. There was no evidence he'd gone under except for the steadily growing pool of blood.

For a moment Killua simply stared. He thought he could do it, maybe. If he just turned now, he could walk away and pretend none of this ever happened. Go back to his life before, pretend he didn't know he was an instrument for murder. Maybe even wipe Gon from his memories completely. But then he felt the tears running down his cheeks and he knew that the opportunity had passed him long ago, weeks in fact, and there was no way in hell he could leave now. So he did the only thing he could do, he dove down into the water to get his friend. (Holy shit, he actually used that word, god his whole world was coming down around his ears.)

When Killua stepped back up onto the beach he was still crying. He wanted to wipe the tears away but his arms were full of Gon and suddenly he had no idea what he was doing. The Hunter was bleeding, conscious but only barely. He had no medical training, no experience in healing someone and even if he did this kind of thing would still be over his head. It would be better to just stop now. Save himself the hardship of having to try in the first place, or better yet, just put Gon out of his misery. But for now he clutched the teen to his chest and tried to will the tears away.

It wasn't until he felt dark eyes boring into him that Killua remembered his brother was there. Looking up, he fixed Illumi with a watery, but strong gaze.

"I can't do it. And I won't."

Illumi turned his head to the side in that unnerving way he had. "You don't have a choice," he said, and though his voice was quiet it demanded attention. "You never did. Now finish it." The last part was clearly an order and Killua felt his body seize, felt himself start to drift back to that place, the one where he had no control as his body carried out his brother's wishes. But no. He wouldn't allow it, couldn't, not this time.

Setting his jaw he grit out, "I told you! I won't do it!"

The way Illumi leaned forward, barley, just barely, showed he clearly knew this was a battle of wills. There was a pause where Killua continued to fight himself, but each second it was getting easier and his brother knew this.

"Fine, I'll do it for you."

Cold panic swept through Killua and he tensed, leaping back and away from Illumi even as his brother advanced.

"Don't! No, brother please, just leave him alone." But Illumi's shadow had already fallen over them and then he was gone, leaving the assassin to gape as fresh blood spilled across his chest and hands.

Oh lord how he wished that was his own blood.

But it wasn't and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about that now. There was a brief second where he wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and cry, but even he had to put a limit to how much he could change in just a few short weeks. Instead he caught the boat in his line of sight, still sitting a ways away on the beach; packed with food and ready to go. He hurried Gon to it, laying his now unconscious form on the wood and then stripping off his shirt so he could tear it into pieces and use them as bandages. They were dirty and ragged but for now it was the best he could do. He might not be able to help the Hunter...but if he could get them off this god forsaken island...

It was when he went to wrap the cut on Gon's throat that he realized something was wrong. It was fairly shallow, high up on the Hunter's neck and though it bled profusely it was far from the kind of wound a Zoldyck would normally inflict. For one, it would take hours for Gon to bleed out this way, even with his other injuries. And if the blood flow was stopped? Well then it just needed a few stitches. Killua doubted the cut would still be fresh enough for that by the time they reached the mainland but that didn't mean much. It could still be coaxed into healing.

With shaking fingers he pressed dirty fabric against the well of blood and held it there. When the flow had abated he dabbed at it with a bit of seawater (salt would clean it, right?) and then made a hasty bandage. He moved on to the next wound, the cut across Gon's left arm. It had stopped bleeding as much but it was deep and severe looking.

That's the time when the assassin realized he'd been set up, sitting there staring at torn skin and the white flashing of bone beneath it. Illumi had given him an opportunity to redeem himself and he'd failed. Here was his second chance served up on a silver platter; take the boat and go home, but leave Gon behind to die. Except it wasn't a second chance was it? Because if he left the Hunter now he proved a coward; unwilling to kill him but also unwilling to save him.

Gritting his teeth Killua continued with his grisly task. He was forced to use the last of his own shirt in order to completely wrap the cut but there were two other wounds to attend to as well. More carefully than he'd handled anything before, the assassin sat Gon up and slid his shirt off as well. It would serve to bandage his right arm as well as the sickening circle of damage in his chest.

The implication was far from clear, but Killua got it anyways after a few minutes of quiet contemplation. To return with Gon meant exile from the family, clean cut ties and a forgotten existence. To return without him meant brutal punishment but a continuation of his responsibilities for the family. Fucking Illumi and his mind games. God, he hated him.

When he was younger, Killua wouldn't have thought twice before leaving. Now he dwelled on the decision a little longer. Even as he patched Gon up, because let's face it, he wasn't going to let the Hunter die, not now, not after everything, he considered the question. He'd save Gon either way. But on the one hand he'd have to lie to his family and never see the dark haired teen again. On the other...well he could only guess at that. The opportunities were pretty much endless.

And suddenly he was taken back to when he was young and naive, the times that hadn't been shadowed by his family and their bloody trade. To when Illumi had still called him a fool. Those were the days when he had felt the world was huge and exciting, that there was something out there for him, just beyond the horizon and if he ran fast enough, trained hard enough, pushed himself, then he might be able to glimpse it, just for a second, and it would have been more than enough. The days when he had hope.

Then the world had closed in around him, like a steel trap, and he hadn't even fought the sick feeling of loosing all his wonder. Because he hadn't noticed, not really. He'd retreated into his own thoughts, ducked his head, accepted his role as leader of the family and moved on.

Now? Now he felt like he was all of twelve again, the world laid out before him like a shining jewel and all he had to do was reach out and it was his.

There was trepidation there, at the back of his mind. Would his family really let him go like that? Would they hunt him down if he tried to leave? And what about Gon, would they hunt him too?

There was anger bubbling up beneath that. For being used by his family and for not realizing he was nothing but a means to an end. A trophy to polish and shine.

But there was hope, underneath and around and beside it all. There was hope. Hope in the knowledge that he had free will, that Illumi could no longer control him so long as he set his mind against it (and that soothed his betrayal more than anything). Hope in the beginning bonds of friendship he'd formed with a complete stranger. Hope in himself.

Really, the choice was so simple when he laid things out like that.

As soon as Killua finished bandaging Gon he pushed the boat out into the water and began steering it out to sea. He lifted his face to the breeze and let the salt sit on his tongue, the way he'd seen the Hunter do so long ago on the deck of the Myrtle, and the ocean unfolded against the bow of their own little ship, the one Gon had made for them. They weren't out of the fire yet, that was for certain, but for once Killua kind of felt like they might make it one day.

Ta da! Well guys I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did. Let me know how I did, any thing in the story I can fix, etc. uwu

-Xen