#anyway: finally a fic that doubles as a fire safety PSA

[the-golden-ghost]

40 for Lupin

40. "I rock between dark and dark/my soul nearly my own/my dead selves singing"

~

He could see them lurking in the shadows, the ghosts, his ghosts, every one of them a fiend of his own creation, every one of them wearing his face. They laughed without joy and sang without spirit, machines more than people, dead more than alive.

He could not outrun them. There was nowhere to run to. Only the hazy circles, only the city lights and the never-ending streets. He could run til he wore down, burnt up, crashed and vanished and there would be nothing left of him. He’d just die and join the chorus, this motley gang of grinning wretches, these pied pipers who wanted to sing him down to hell to pay the price of his years upon years of wicked intent.

If he caught the smell of smoke and whiskey he could follow it briefly and wake up from the spinning graveyard in his mind, wake up in Jigen’s arms, shaking and burning, his head throbbing, tears on his face. He could briefly be soothed by the soft and gentle touch of a hired killer and then his body would force him back down into unconsciousness where he would again be whirling, tumbling though the images in his head and waiting for the crash.

After two days of this he was seeing the ghosts out of the corners of his eyes even when he was awake. After four days he was so desperate that he was begging Jigen to kill him and get it over with. He didn’t care anymore. He’d been called crazy before but this was true insanity, the most painful kind he could imagine.

It was only him and Jigen in the hideout but he heard the voices still. They sang. Jigen had put the radio on so he would have something to focus on, but this was no melody that played on any earthbound airwave. This was his mind finally cracking and spilling out because he’d split it so many times over the years that it couldn’t help but shatter.

Jigen’s answer to all the screaming ghosts surrounding him was to remain steady and insist he could not see them. To cool Lupin with a damp cloth to his forehead, give him a blanket when he shivered and hold him tight enough that he couldn’t break his own bones with his thrashing. “When the fever breaks, you’ll sleep.” Jigen’s voice was a rock in a hurricane. Lupin clung to it. “You’re delirious, that’s all. Give it a day more. You’ll be okay.”

Lupin, in his frenzy, squeezed Jigen’s arms til he raised bruises and clawed at his face when he was again denied the peace that would come with death. Why had he hired a killer who wouldn’t kill!? He screamed that - maybe in his mind, maybe in his throat. Both felt raw as anything.

~

On the fifth day Jigen slept beside him. Lupin could see the shadows that now clouded his blurry mind reflected on Jigen’s face. It was quiet, and nighttime, and there was no singing nor screaming now, but they would come back. It was just the shadows.

He took a cigarette from the bedside table, lit a match. Smoking quieted his frayed nerves just a bit. He still felt dull and achy and he knew without the slightest doubt that the ghosts would be back to yell in his head. He knew his soul was on the chopping block and he was thrown about and helpless.

And Jigen would do nothing.

He lit another match, watched it burn, let it nip his fingers as it ran down. The little bite of pain was oddly soothing. It was a focal point, at least. The light, the heat. Keep away the shadows and the screams.

He lit another. His fingers trembled, wanting to drop -

Drop the match onto the sheets that covered him and let himself go up in smoke and flame. He was so wrung out now that he was sure he’d blaze up and be burnt to a cinder in moments. Instantaneous. Bright and wild and gone in a blink. The world seemed to shrink and waver before his eyes. There was nothing but the light. Nothing but the fire.

He could end it. His guardian slept; he had the reins, and the means.

One deep breath and he’d do it. He’d show the ghosts who they were dealing with. They thought they could keep him, hold him, spin him in circles until there was nothing left? Not so; Lupin was going to forge his own ending, and he would do it beautifully.

He’d forgotten his shaking hands. He could not hold the match true. It dropped like a warning flare and missed its mark - falling instead onto Lupin’s partner who slept beside him.

The screaming that followed was deafening, and all too real.

~

Time had ceased.

Lupin’s head rang with the knowledge that he was alone now, alone, and falling. The smell of smoke was no longer a guide but a hell, taunting him in his loneliness. Did he really think he could escape? Did he think the universe was done playing games?

He could still hear the laughter, the singing, the screams. But beyond that there was the scent of burning flesh and the sting of smoke in his lungs, and the floor he was lying on was cold and hard.

He cried out and received no answer. He reached out for his partner and found empty space and shadows - endless empty space. He gave in then and just let the whirling take him. If this was hell he’d jump in, join the chorus if that’s what fate demanded. Weakly, he began to sing in harmony with the voices around him.

Eventually that all faded and he slipped into the deep depths of unconsciousness.

It was only then that the fever broke, and silence reigned, and Lupin’s mind began to shift back into place.

~

Lupin did not know what day it was. He had slept. He awoke to merciful quiet - his head clear, his body exhausted and drained. There was no sound but the wind outside, the birdsong. No screaming, no laughter, no wild taunts. He lay down and slept again.

He woke again in the sunshine. The window was cracked open, allowing light and air. He’d been rested on a mattress in the corner, away from the burnt one. And as he got his bearings, he could see now that he hadn’t ever been abandoned. He had a glass of water, a bowl of soup by his side, still warm. Extra blankets within easy reach. His glasses, his favorite books, a few painkillers in a little cup. He’d been cared for.

He got up on trembling legs, weak as water, but feeling like a person again. Not just any person, either. He knew who he was. He had a face, and a name, and it was his and his alone. He caught sight of that face in the mirror. It looked back at him with a slight smile. Yes, he was real, and alive.

Once he was dressed, he was complete. He never felt quite himself without his jackets, anyway.

He left the room vowing never to come back to this apartment. He’d take Jigen and they’d go someplace warm and inviting and they’d rest. But this place... no, this place was cursed. Lupin slammed the door on it.

Jigen was on the couch. He smelled like burnt skin and cheap scotch and Lupin could tell he’d been keeping himself just this side of blacking out for the past few days - wobbling, but just steady enough to be able to take care of a sick friend.

He was bandaged and blistered. That would heal - burn marks on his legs and chest and stomach but they’d heal. Lupin, by some miracle, didn’t have a mark on him anywhere. How could that be? They’d been right beside each other.

Jigen woke up then, sensing Lupin’s presence. He looked him over through glazed eyes. “You’re better,” he muttered. “That’s good.”

“Jigen...” Lupin said, but he didn’t know what else to say. There weren’t words or promises that he could make that would amount to anything. Instead he just lay down beside Jigen, careful not to brush up against the bandages.

“You’re okay now, though, right? You’re not gonna -”

“No,” Lupin said. “I’ll be fine.” He was already making plans. The first was to get out of here. Take Jigen somewhere good - anywhere he wanted to go. Call Goemon and Fujiko back and from there... who knew? But Lupin was alive and kicking, and whatever came of it would be an adventure to remember.

But no adventures yet. Right now he was going to make sure Jigen had time to rest and heal. He’d take care of his partner; he owed him that at least.

Jigen had fallen asleep against Lupin’s shoulder, and Lupin held him gently. Fatigue was pulling on him, too. He’d fought hard the past few days, and he was still drained, but getting stronger.

He drifted off, a sweet and peaceful sleep this time. Tomorrow would be another day, and after that, the world was waiting.

#Lupin III #sorry for the wait anon! I know this was requested a long time ago #I hope it serves its purpose! #anyway: finally a fic that doubles as a fire safety PSA #Don't Play With Matches Kids #ESPECIALLY when the voices of the damned are echoing in your head #also I think I'm gonna start archiving some of these. like save them and polish them and put them on ao3 #I planned to do it with some of my TKLUTS fics but didn't #but now's as good a time as any to start #tumblr is a SUCKY place to save writing and I've lost fics because of it #also I feel like I should tag this but I don't really know WHAT to tag it as so...? #unreality tw