Halcyon/Hell

By Eline

Warnings: AU fic. Violence and swearing and blood all over the place.

Notes: This isn't that original . . . as you can tell by now. Just another re-telling of Saiyuki . . .

* * * * * * * * * * *

So I was right. Hate being right sometimes. But it wasn't a paper cut. Hell no.

Hakkai had one more scar after that day. One more to add to the collection. One more really screwed-up memory to add to the scrapbook labelled, probably in shaky crayon, "My Life". Bet he had one of those too. The ones that you made in kindergarten, with pictures, cut-outs and "Mom, Dad and Spot the dog" in green crayon.

Only he had been in an orphanage and he told me later (much later) that it wasn't so much "Mom, Dad and Spot the dog" as "Life's Lessons" with Sister Anne putting salve on his last scrape and telling him that pain was a part of imperfect life in this imperfect world.

So, a collection of scars to mark events of an imperfect life in this imperfect world.

He had this honking huge scar across his abdomen--that one was the worst one. It was a large, slightly rope-like knot of scar tissue that was at least a foot in length. Not a pretty sight.

Hakkai didn't like people to see it, that much I knew. Heck, it was like he was trying to forget about it himself. Somehow, I wound up giving him loads of room when he was changing. He had the showers pretty much to himself too, by the way. Hakkai didn't do his work in the work-gangs because the Warden's Office had learned a thing or two about putting critical cases together with the rest of the population. Shelving books in the library and helping in the stocktaking put him well away from any trouble. Or so they thought.

It was one of those days when I was down for one of work-gangs and Hakkai would be puttering about in the library. He'd get off work earlier than me and still go for a shower despite nothing worse than a bit of dust from the shelves.

But we had been re-turfing that sorry excuse for a football pitch. Sweat, icky work. So I decided to be a little less polite that evening and head straight for the showers.

The whole floor shared the showers and I was eager to get there before the rest of the mob descended on it. Which was probably why I was the first to find Hakkai, bleeding from a fresh gut wound on the floor of the toilet with his assailants still standing by.

There were four of them--the same four whom I had thought were oblivious to Hakkai's presence after two months without any incidents. They were just as surprised as I was, but I think I may have recovered just a moment earlier to catch a glint of light on metal.

A knife. One of them was armed.

As a kid, I was taught that if someone had a knife in a fight, run like heck. As a not-so-innocent drifter, I developed an allergy to metal with sharp edges. I tended to react very defensively. Or offensively if the situation warranted it. In an enclosed space, the latter wasn't a very good idea. But the knife-wielder was already turning towards me, poised to attack. Not good odds.

There was blood on the tiles. Blood dripping down the length of sharpened metal.

Somehow or other, I had a grip on the guy's wrist. I was bleeding from the cut the bastard gave me, but I wasted no time in slamming his hand against the wall. With extreme force. I think I might have fractured something. Follow up punch to the gut before he could recover. Then I slung him at his buddies who were coming to help--that slowed them down a bit. Still bad odds.

But hey, I'm a gambler, right?

Fortunately, I was saved the trouble of fighting all of them by the timely arrival of Tonpuu and the rest of the work-gangs from our floor.

The resulting commotion was enough to bring the screws. It wasn't done to invade a floor you didn't belong to like that. After all, how could anyone shower with a guy bleeding to death on the floor?

Speaking of the bleeding guy . . .

I didn't know if it was all right to move him--he was coiled up tight around what must have been a serious gut wound. Something about it reminded me of those nights when it rained and I could catch him clutching at his abdomen as though his scar pained him.

"Oi--Hakkai! Hakkai? You're going to get loads of down-time from this . . ." If he survived. If they patched him up right . . .

He evinced a faint groan that I could still hear despite the shouting going on over my head. Still alive. He lifted his damp head from the tiles to look up at me.

"Bakayaro! Don't move! Cheh . . . You could have yelled for help or something!" I said loudly to cover how relieved I was. Absurdly relieved for some reason--until I saw his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When the medics towed him away, I found myself standing in a damp uniform with a bandage on my left forearm ("Just a gash--you're lucky.") in the middle of the showers where some people had already begun sluicing away the blood so that everyone could get on with life in general.

"Na, Gojyo--you were lucky you didn't get knifed badly, yah?" Tonpuu's there beside me, towel in hand.

"Yeah, new bit of luck for him there!" someone else called out. "Flying solo again!"

"Oh yeah . . . He was trouble in the end, that weirdo."

And so I realised that at the end of this shower, I would be going back to being single-roomer. It was funny how that thought was suddenly as depressing as hell.

But that was life in NH. People move in, people get knifed, people take showers, people moved on. Just another transition . . . another change. The only thing that remained constant was NH itself. Just four walls, two bunks and the bits and pieces of someone else's life.

Granted, it was a pretty anonymous collection of bits and pieces. He didn't have much on him when he came in. Didn't accumulate much stuff either.

Heard that the perps got transferred out. Weird. But okay by me. Didn't need any more trouble by association. As to how those dicks got a shiv in here . . . that remained a mystery. And there was the clamp-down and weapon-checks, which made everyone antsy and me itching for a much-needed nicotine-fix.

And if you thought it was bad with me, you should see how Sanzo gets without his coffin nails. It was easier to bribe him with a stick now and then for news from the infirmary.

"Anyone would think you were being concerned," Genjo Sanzo said on one of those mornings during which the clamp-down was still affecting everyone's tobacco supply. His side-kick was rubbing his head and bitching about how much being smacked by a newspaper hurt--testament of the shortness of Blondie's temper that day.

Sometimes, it just wasn't worth seeing his grumpy mug for anything.

"Hey, I just want to know if I should keep his side clear. If he ain't coming back . . . I would've busted my knuckles on some numbskull for nothing."

"Aren't you such a hero?" Sanzo sneered before lighting up. "He's still in intensive care. It's hard to keep a guy here if they really want to go."

And I knew that was true, because I had seen something missing in Hakkai's eyes. The will to go on--he didn't have it. I wonder where people went when they were too depressed even for this place. Was it supposed to be worse or something? Because that was what he had wanted. To sink down to the darkest, deepest pit and never come out again.

So I was the most surprised one of all when he popped up at my door again in a replay of that night three months before, sans the overly large contingent of guards. I hadn't gone to get any updates from Sanzo in two weeks, so the smug motherfucker must be laughing his head off--or at least sneering in an amused way--by now.

"Asshole." But I couldn't scowl for very long. "I thought I'd have this place to myself again."

"I'll be needing my bunk back," he said, casting a slightly disapproving look at my appropriation of the other bed. "It's a wonder that you managed to get this place past an inspection."

"Haven't had one since the last time. All they did was weapon-checks."

So I did get my stuff off the bunk--his bunk--and it was as though he had never left.

"Is your arm all right?" he asked in the middle of making up his bunk.

"Oh--yeah, I took the bandage off two weeks ago." I had no idea he had noticed it at that time. Or that he could make out the thin white scar on my forearm.

"That's good. Just don't try that again, Gojyo-san. There's been enough trouble around me as it is."

"Only if you stop that Gojyo-san shit," I countered.

"Hai."

A pause as I kicked most of my stuff under my bunk. "Oi . . . You really wanted to suffer, dint'cha?"

"I suppose so."

I snorted. "Dummy. What made you change your mind?"

He smiled faintly. "Being called an idiot four times a day did that . . . "

"Mara and the counsellor?"

"Yes. And Sanzo when I passed by him in the Warden's Office. Then you."

"Anytime," I said, doing nonchalant for all I was worth. "Glad to be of help."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Other little changes crept up on you when you least expect them to. Like that one morning when I was rudely awakened by an irritating noise.

Rainwater. Dripping down in a steady stream. Just over my bunk. Dripping on me.

Bugger.

It turned out that the roof was leaking. Which had lead to accumulation of water on the top floor. When then leaked downwards. The series of leaks had progressed throughout the night during a particularly heavy downpour and reached our floor by morning. Another shower might just result in the problem spreading all the way to the ground floor at this rate.

The inmates on level six were raising a stink. Not to mention the real physical stink from the accumulated damp. And there was this weird slimy yellow-coloured mould that dripped down like melted candle-wax in places. It looked absolutely disgusting. Not even Hakkai could say anything positive about the current situation.

By noon, we got news that it was reallocation time. There was much grumbling, but it was not as if we had any say in that matter. That particular wing had had it--there would be renovations while we had to double up in the new south wing, a month ahead of its original opening date, if I recall correctly.

The Warden's Office had the reallocation slips out after dinnertime. Totting all our worldly possessions, we moved from the mouldy old block and crossed over to the new wing. It took only one trip and the sight of a new, dry, mould-free cell did wonders for my mood--until the new roomies showed up.

"You!"

"What a coincidence," Hakkai said.

"Cheh . . . as if having to share with another two idiots weren't enough," Sanzo remarked acidly.

"Aw man, couldn't we ask for a transfer?"

"What's *your* problem?"

And so there we were, crammed four to a cell. The monkey with his appetite, Sanzo with his attitude and Hakkai with his way of taking up less space than expected. Me with my big mouth that always set Goku and Sanzo off. Surprisingly enough, no one required medical attention after the first week. Which was more than what could be said for the situation in other cells. It *was* easier to arrange mahjong and bridge games though.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The new regime also included one more thing: roof-repair and renovations of our former old, leaky wing.

It was either brain-numbingly hot or soaking wet when we were up there on the roof, replacing the leads and the busted roofing. That kid--Goku--was on my shift and he was amazingly strong for a guy his size. He was great at the lifting and carrying part of the job--made it look dead easy.

But it's not like we all didn't bitch like crazy on sweltering afternoons. Just hearing the quitting signal was becoming the highlight of my day. And we were only on the third day of repairs, mind you.

So we had just packed it in for the day and were on the way down when I noticed a distinct lack of Goku complaining about how hungry he was.

Eh? The kid was not with me . . . ?

I turned around to check the roof. "Goku?"

Ah there he was . . . He had hopped up on top of the scaffolding along the wall facing the quad.

"Oi, baka! You trying to get yourself killed or something?"

"Shut up . . . I'm okay!" And he shimmied down the scaffolding, as agile as the monkey I had teased him about. It didn't do my heart any good, that sort of thing. It was a six storey drop down to certain *splat*.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting something!" he called up as he wriggled under the overhanging to the eaves. "Won't be a minute!"

And sure enough, he was back up in a flash with a suspicious bulge under his shirt. I hustled him off the roof and past the screws, muttering under my breath about crazy runts who were obviously plotting to give me a heart attack before my time.

"Okay, now what's that all about?" I asked. Goku pulled his prize out from his shirt and displayed it proudly.

"An egg? You aren't thinking of eating it, are you?"

"Of course not! It's kinda pretty . . ." And it was--sort of bluish-white and smooth all over.

"If it's a bird's egg, then what about the bird that laid it?"

"I dunno. I saw the nest when the scaffolding went up a few days ago. No birds ever went back to it. Maybe something happened to the mother-bird?"

And it takes a really hard-hearted bastard to be discouraging when the kid looked like *that*. Sanzo's job--not mine. "Yeah, maybe."

"So the egg's sort of like an orphan. Think it'll ever hatch?"

"You should ask Hakkai--he's the smart one."

And he did later that evening when he smuggled the largish egg back to the cell and showed it to an uninterested Sanzo and a mildly amused Hakkai.

"Here--Hakkai, you can have it! And maybe you can tell what kind of bird it's from."

"Ano . . . thank you." Hakkai looked down at the bluish egg quizzically. "It's a very nice egg. I don't recognise what kind of bird's egg it is though . . . But we could always look it up."

"Cool!"

"We can go to the library now, yes?"

I think Hakkai just likes being a schoolteacher. Especially to Goku--he had been encouraging the kid to read more.

"Oi . . ." I grabbed hold of the back of Goku's jacket before he could go bouncing after Hakkai. There was something I wanted to know . . . "Why'd you give it away after you climbed all the way to get it?" I thought he would keep it, or show it to Sanzo until he got smacked with the newspaper.

"Eh? Oh, I thought he needed some cheering up . . . And he's the one least likely to break it." And he was off, running after Hakkai and fussing over the egg.

Least likely to break it, eh? Well, that was Hakkai, all right . . .

"That kid . . . goofy, but nice. What's the deal with him?" I asked Sanzo.

"He doesn't remember," Sanzo said, not sounding irritated like the other ninety-nine percent of the time. "He's been through so many places--I think all those treatments screwed with his mind."

"Treatments?"

"I think they used electro-shock, drugs--shit like that." Sanzo stubbed out his cigarette and put his paper down for a moment. "Bad stuff, he calls it. He can remember some of the *bad stuff*, though he doesn't want to. And that was even before he turned sixteen."

Ah. Shit like *that*. On a kid. Remind me to be nicer to little runt . . .

"So they don't have anything on his record about what happened?"

Sanzo gave me a level look and turned back to his paper. "I don't know. And I don't care."

And that was five seconds worth of humanity from Sanzo--a new record, ladies and gentlemen.

* * * * * * * * * * *

They never did figure out what kind of bird laid that egg. Hakkai kept it on his shelf the way most schoolteachers would tack up a particularly good piece of work. And so it remained with us, a largely decorative souvenir.

Until it hatched one evening just before lights-out.

Goku noticed the movement first--he was pretty sharp despite all the rumblings from his stomach. "Hey . . . er, Hakkai, it's rocking. The egg's moving!"

"What?"

"No shit, it really is moving!" I exclaimed after taking a look at where the egg sat beside Hakkai's books.

Even Sanzo looked up from his newspaper to see the amazing rocking egg. It must have been an *extremely* boring day for him if he would deign to even look.

"Odd . . ." Hakkai murmured as he took the egg from the shelf and set it down gently on the floor. "It's been a month since Goku found it. And it hasn't been incubated . . ."

"Ahhh! It's cracking!" Goku was hopping up and down excitedly, doing a fairly good impression of the egg's mother.

And so it was. One vertical crack, followed by another. By that time, we were all leaning over for a look.

But it was no bird that stuck its head out of the first hole in the shell.

"A lizard? Oi, saru! You got a lizard's egg!"

"That might explain why it could hatch without much incubation," Hakkai said, bending closer to examine the small whitish head that had poked its way out of the egg. One leg followed, then another, widening the hole in the shell.

"It's still cute!" Goku said, defending his find.

"Come on, just a little more to go," Hakkai said softly to the newborn lizard as it finally fought free of its shell.

"That doesn't look like any lizard I've ever seen," Sanzo said after a very long and surprised silence that followed the triumphant emergence of the pale creature.

"It's got . . . It's got wings," Goku said, stupefied. He was not the only one. Sanzo had forgotten to be sarcastic, which rated this surprise pretty high on the list of thing of note in NH.

Still slick and shiny with whatever fluids the egg had been filled with, the little reptile squeaked at us and stretched its long neck and very noticeable wing membranes.

"A flying lizard," I muttered. "Now, I've seen it all . . . Hey--that *does* explain why the runt found it in the eaves."

"But flying lizards . . . here?" Hakkai, who had been the closest to the--the whatever it was--reached out a hand to touch it.

It shed away for a moment, then stretched out its neck to nose at his hand. Goku eagerly followed suit. Even I tried petting it. It had surprisingly soft scales and some kind of fuzzy stuff on its neck . . .

So it was real. Not a weird dream.

And Goku opened his mouth to ask the question I *knew* he was going to ask.

"Can we keep it?"

* * * * * * * * * * *

End Part 2.