This wasn't supposed to be so... odd... but... well, something happened, and I picked up in the middle in a very strange mood. So here we are.

"We Are Really So Happy"

At first, he had wept.

Like a child, like any mortal, he had cried at the threat. And Kunzite had comforted him-- misunderstanding perhaps, not truly knowing just why...

Why it was so important. So very, very important.

It wasn't. It was only a symbol; only a key. To a sweeter life. To Kunzite's heart.

(That, most of all.)

And he wasn't going to lose it. Wasn't going to lose everything.

(Nephrite would like him to.)

Not least of all, pride.

He knew well, Nephrite at least considered him to be little more than an object. A worthless, pretty face.

(dear sakura)

He'd pay.

(he swallowed)

He wasn't strong enough. Nephrite was right, there. In direct confrontation, he would be able to hold his own, a while. But he'd fall.

He could call for Kunzite, of course. But he wouldn't.

Kunzite-sama wasn't going to know.

He couldn't know. Zoisite wasn't sure why, but it was imperative.

This was his own. And he'd do it on his own. He didn't have to beg for help, or lay blame on anyone else.

This was his. And he'd do it.

Because he'd found the weakness.

--It wasn't fair, he mused. Cruel, certainly.

But poetic justice.

(He flinched.)

You started this....

(Whatever he tried to tell himself, something in him still didn't want to. The only reason he had found the weakness was that it was his own, his greatest. And the one Nephrite had chosen to exploit.)

So.

So, it was simple. Use this girl. Nephrite wanted (he could see) to protect her. It wouldn't fail.

(So he killed him.)

He sat and watched. It wasn't horrible, right then. Adrenaline, some fire pulsed in him, made him giddy. He laughed to see Nephrite bleed. He knew he was safe, now.

If towards the end, he faltered. Not outwardly, the shell kept functioning with perfection. It was leering now, as Zoisite cringed within, drawing back from what he had done.

What he was about to do. What he couldn't do.

He wouldn't become Nephrite.

"You should be happy to die with the one you love." Zoisite said, and the shell echoed, its sneer fading somewhat as it began to crack.

Nephrite's eyes looked into him, a moment. They were cold, still, but somehow resigned. And for a moment, as he was dying, the eyes held apology.

As quickly as he could, Zoisite fled.

He didn't go home. He didn't know where he went. Deep into the blackest corridors, wandering strange halls of the Kingdom. Many strange yoma-- stragglers, leftovers of Jadeite's legions. Some of Nephrite's, here and there, and he hid from them-- though he wasn't sure why. A precious few of his own, who bowed, and he ignored them. Kunzite's, also respectful; and even Beryl's few chosen elite.

Not so many of those, as he wandered deeper. These were strange yoma-- horrible, tenebrous creatures, with dark and pitlike eyes, blacker than even the surrounding gloom. Half-animal, these, looking on him with a wild kind of fear and hatred. No curiosity. They'd long ago ceased to care.

These were not even Jadeite's cringing leftovers. They were forgotten, completely, utterly lost in the bowels of the blackest pits, and never caring. They cared for nothing anymore. And as Zoisite passed, almost ghostlike among them, they silently tore one another to pieces. The air seemed to swallow any sound; the screams of the dying, if they bothered to scream-- and the shitennou's weeping, as he wandered to the far ends of his world, past all light or hope or love, hating every moment, wanting desperately to turn back.

But he never did. Never slowed, never stopped, never ran, only walked, farther and farther, until he could remember nothing and see nothing and hear nothing and there was nothing and somewhere, he fell.

If he awoke and walked again, for days and days and ever, he could not tell.

In every dream he saw Nephrite, and in every shadow lurked Nephrite's eyes.

He cried, now that it made no difference. He could not justify, he could not revel, and he could not regret. All remaining was fear, was wondering where he had come from and how he had gotten here. How he had gotten into this.

And he was afraid of himself.

--When he woke, immediately, he wanted Kunzite. It all seemed a kind of insanity now, the blackness, the creatures around him, his endless wandering, endless....

Zoisite wanted, very badly, to go home.

He closed his eyes to the shadows, and teleported.

The darkness of the keep seemed very alive. And even the storms he feared were welcome, now. He sighed quietly, and looked--

Kunzite sat alone, staring out one of the windows at the violent landscape. He did not move as the last petals faded from Zoisite's teleport.

And Zoisite did not crumple to the floor.

He couldn't move, either. He was exhausted, in every way possible, and he didn't want to think at all anymore.

Kunzite first seemed to notice him; turned his head to look. The cold gaze took in the small and thin pathetic figure; and locked on Zoisite's eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming back."

His voice held no emotion.

(He knew, of course.)

Very, very steadily, very normally, Zoisite somehow walked forward to the strangely formed stone chair. And then he crumpled to the ground at Kunzite's feet, lacking even the strength to cry.

He didn't know what had happened. Didn't know at all.

Kunzite sat where he was.

"Beryl-sama was not pleased that you acted without consulting her."

"I didn't do it for her."

He heard a quiet sigh, and felt Kunzite move, to half-kneel beside him.

--Didn't want to be a bother.

"Sumimasen." Zoisite lied, "I'm fine."

--Though Kunzite had not asked.

He stood, or tried to, and should have fallen except for the arm Kunzite had slipped around his shoulders. He tried to say something-- gratitude, apology, explanation-- but the words didn't seem to mean anything anymore.

Only Nephrite's eyes.

But he couldn't regret that.

So he said nothing.

And let Kunzite undress him and fell upon the bed, not afraid, not anything anymore. Because the darkness and the yoma and the cold blue and sorry gaze and blood and all faded from his mind as he lay with Kunzite's arms around him.

And he remembered why he'd done it. And didn't cry again.

(not then.)