They were in hiding.

It was damned foolish, really; if it had happened to anybody else, he would have laughed for a year. Of course, that was presupposing that he was capable of laughter, and as he rather indifferently knew, such an emotion was rather beyond his abilities at present. The spirit of laughter stemmed from either gentle hope or wicked sadism, and he couldn't muster the energy for either emotion.

Zoisite smiled, but it was an empty expression. He knew it only made him seem all the more chilling for the lack of warmth behind his eyes, but it had the remarkable quality of commanding instant and obedient attention, and he liked such a practical ability.

The youma surrounding him cowered more deeply, and he responded accordingly. He didn't laugh...nothing so inhuman could ever be called laughter. But on the surface, his voice accomplished the lilting vocals that others would call a "giggle," and if he had been capable of delight, he would have felt it at the deep obeisance the youma afforded him. But he just didn't care.

"Have you finished your preparations, Zoisite?" The First King stepped quietly beside him, looking solemnly down at the younger king.

Zoisite nodded at the query, his mind absently going through a different sort of pathway. Kunzite always looked so solemn, so serious. There was hardly any sort of expression on his face, nowadays. Zoisite could vaguely remember a time where Kunzite had been insufferable-- both smug and thinly amused - but those times were long gone. The Kingdom was gone, their domain was gone, Kunzite's personality was gone....

"We will be ready when the time comes, Kunzite-san," he told the other man.

They were going to take back their kingdom-no longer would they hide like scavenging refugees. They would take back their kingdom, and the rebels would pay with blood and tears and screams....

It was all so boring, or at the very least, he thought so. Kunzite, on the other hand, burned with the obsession. Zoisite supposed he could understand it if he tried hard enough. In the chaos surrounding the exile, the hierarchy had been lost. Beryl was supposedly dead - Zoisite rather doubted it, but there had been no evidence towards the contrary so far--, Nephrite had gone missing, and three fourths of the youma were destroyed. Everyone was so confused that they grasped desperately for leadership, any leadership. And thus, the lesser demon Azurite had made his bid.

Azurite presently held Kunzite's castle, as well as the surrounding countryside. After the defeat at the hands of Serenity, Kunzite had been far too weakened to care for his kingdom, and Zoisite had been kept very busy keeping the First King alive. For six years, it had been a game of running and hiding, of keeping the lesser demons from a Kunzite so weakened he could not defend himself. In the darker moments, Zoisite wondered why he merely did not leave the old bastard to die, but he knew of the thrice-damned compulsion within him, the one that refused to leave Kunzite to his doom. And so he doctored the First King, and he nursed the First King, and he hated the First King, and somehow, the First King was finally better.

Azurite was going to die painfully.

Kunzite would be restored to his place. And Zoisite was both praised and damned for allowing it to be so. He fought for something which kept him enslaved, and yet... the niggling voice in the back of his mind was satisfied.

Well, fine. He just didn't care. Life was a bitch, and that was that.

"You placed Jadeite in First Battalion," Kunzite's voice once again intruded into his thoughts. "He won't be safe there."

Zoisite snorted inwardly. Ah, yes. That was another result of Kunzite's time of invalidity. Zoisite had been independent during Kunzite's weakness; Kunzite had treated him with remarkable courtesy since then. It wasn't from a sense of gratitude, of that Zoisite was certain. No, it was mere survival. Something had changed since the Defeat; Kunzite had suddenly decided that Zoisite was capable of harming him. Zoisite didn't really understand why Kunzite thought it possible; if it been up to him, he would have killed Kunzite back when Ami had been alive or a any time over the subsequent years, but he still was incapable of the act, no matter what Kunzite currently thought. Of course, the First King hadn't been stupid enough to actually tell him of his new certainty; Zoisite had realized the truth over the years of changed behavior, of small politenesses and worries.

Before, Kunzite had almost been kind, he had thanked Zoisite for his loyalty. He had been practically delirious, and probably thought that a harsh word on his part would have resulted in Zoisite leaving him to die. When Kunzite had regained his mental facilities, the overt politeness had ended, but the First King continued with little dotings, little concessions. In the present case, it had been Zoisite who rounded up most of the youma, and as such, they were primarily loyal to him. Kunzite knew this and was currying favor to keep the military advantage. Zoisite was sure that as soon as Kunzite had regained both his power and position, Zoisite would be relegated back to "little bitch boy" and held captive to the First King's old sadism. It was merely a matter of time.

Luckily, he had long ago succumbed to apathy. None of it mattered any longer.

"Jadeite is more than a mere soldier, Kunzite-san," Zoisite finally answered. "He is in no more danger there than he would be elsewhere."

Kunzite only nodded at that, and they both turned to view the castle in the distance.

Soon, the hiding of six years would come to an end.

* * *

The fist knocked him to the floor. Again.

Zoisite looked up blearily, indifferently noting the anger suffusing the rebel's face. The other man was set to explode; apparently, a hostage refusing to talk was a new thing for him. It had been weeks since his capture, and still, they couldn't make him talk.

It was a matter of pride, actually. He truly cared less whether or not the information could harm Kunzite. He could do it, too; talking about armaments and weaponry and the like was something he was capable of, something his geas allowed. Finally, he could do something to harm the damned First King. But he didn't.

Not yet, at any rate.

In any case, he wasn't sure that Azurite was all that capable of handling the information he could give. No, capable wasn't the correct word. Azurite was a more than an intelligent enemy; the fact that he survived Kunzite's overthrow and managed to capture his second-in-command spoke highly towards that fact; Azurite was imminently capable. He just wasn't capable enough... he wasn't worthy enough.

It had taken Kunzite much more -the years of his training, the brokenness of his best friend's mind, and a thrice-cursed geas for protection- to break Zoisite to his will. Zoisite would not break again, not for a mere beating, not for mere starvation. Azurite could torture Zoisite's body all he liked; he lacked the subtlety to break his soul.

If nothing else, Kunzite was capable. He demanded respect. This Azurite... he was nothing. Zoisite grimaced up at the man. "Keep doing that," he muttered, "and I won't be able to give you what you want."

Azurite stared down at him for a moment, his blue eyes unreadable underneath the fringe of his blue-black hair. "You know," he finally stated, "you don't have to be conscious to have hostage value."

Zoisite smiled grotesquely, but his eyes were grim. "You're deluded if you think Kunzite-san will give you anything of worth for me." The First Lord was not a fool. He wouldn't barter for his second-in-command, not when he knew that second would betray him at the first possible opportunity. In fact, Zoisite was sure that Kunzite would have killed him if he hadn't be captured. He had outlived his usefulness. It was the sensible thing to do. "The First King does not deal with hostages."

The blue eyes continued to weigh him. "You hold no loyalty for this man," Azurite thought aloud, "and yet, you continue to serve him." The hard eyes flashed with puzzlement for a moment, and then resumed their unreadable nature. "You're right; he'd be a fool to rescue you. After all, you were nothing more than a distraction during the battle, merely a diversion; surely you knew this? He expected you to lose... even to die."

Zoisite shrugged. "We both knew that," he told Azurite, and then he stared back at the floor. He had lead the Second Battalion; it was a suicide run. It was a sacrifice; his charge had been the decisive point in the battle. He hadn't planned it that way, though he suspected that Kunzite had thought of the eventuality; after all, during the battle, Kunzite hadn't been in the least suprised when Azurite's forces had cracked them in two. Kunzite's decision for him to leave his own division to command the Second Battalion had obviously been premeditated; Zoisite had rode out fully expecting to die. Fully expecting to finally be free.

No, Kunzite would not lift a finger to rescue him. Not in any form. The First King had, in effect, killed two birds with one stone: he had rid himself of a untrustworthy commander, and had taken back his kingdom. Risking a force to take Zoisite back would cost him his advantage; Kunzite's army was yet too weak and too inexperienced to face Azurite when he was firmly entrenched in his own land. Kunzite would not risk such a thing for any man; he would certainly not do it for him.

"Zoisite," Azurite called softly, bringing him back to himself. "You have no love for the First King. Join us. Have your revenge."

Zoisite regarded the other man thoughtfully. He had expected this request. If he had been any other man, he would have taken Azurite up on it. However, Zoisite was certain that he would not be able to lead a charge against Kunzite's men; the geas would prevent it. He would also be useless as an assassin; he could not kill the First King.

"My uses would be limited," he answered softly. "I can strategize, but cannot campaign. I could give you all the information on troops and weaponry, but I could lead no expedition myself."

His eyes sharpened as he stared up at the older man. "You knew all of this, didn't you? You know about the geas."

Azurite nodded briefly, a slight dipping of the head. "A geas? I had suspected. Years ago... you were Kunzite's biggest thorn. And then suddenly, you were allies?" Black hair wavered as he shook his head. "Others thought that your impudence before... before Jadeite... had been an act; that you had always been the First King's lackey. I, on the other hand...."

Zoisite smirked. "Aren't you the smart one? But doesn't that knowledge defeat the purpose? I can't go against Kunzite; something, a geas, whatever it might be, prevents it. And thus, I am useless to you."

Zoisite sneered once again, and laid back on the floor of his cell, turning his eyes from the other man. His voice was airy and indifferent when he spoke. "You just want the information I can give you. You can't torture it from me, so you'll try to trick it out of me."

He lay there for a long moment, steadily ignoring the eyes he knew were perusing him. Soon enough, the beatings would begin again, or maybe they might just leave him alone...

Fingers snapped, and the magical bonds holding him were gone. Zoisite looked up at Azurite in shock.

Azurite smiled grimly back at him, holding the door behind him and motioning the Fourth King through. "If I require trust, I must give it," he told Zoisite quietly, answering the other man's unspoken question.

Zoisite rose to his feet and walked to the door, stopping only to stare up into the other man's eyes. "You're a fool, you know," he told Azurite calmly. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Indeed," was all the reply he got, and he was lead upstairs. To his new chambers, to his new position... maybe to his new life.

* * *

"Well, what do you know?" Azurite told him a week later. Zoisite was perusing a map of Kunzite's kingdom when the older man came in with a message in his hands. "He seems to want you back after all."

Zoisite's eyes narrowed on the small cylinder, and he snatched it irritably. "Let me see that," he snapped, and quickly read the letter. It requested negotiations for the safe return of the Fourth King, Lord Zoisite al'Endymion sa'Mercurius.

Blue eyes were carefully watching him when he looked back up. Zoisite ignored the blatant distrust in the gaze, and snorted as he threw the message on the table. "It's a trick," he told Azurite impatiently. "He wants something- probably safe access to you. Believe me," he said, even as he rolled his eyes at making such an impossible demand, "Kunzite doesn't want me. He's pulling something, here."

"I agree," Azurite replied. "The question is, do we play along with it, or shall we ignore his request entirely. You know him best, Zoisite-san. Would it be more of a danger to invite him here, or shall we refuse him? Surely he expects our refusal... could this be a cover for something else?"

Zoisite threw himself down in a convenient chair, and stared glumly out the window. "Probably," he muttered, just loud enough for Azurite to hear. "The problem with Kunzite is that his plans are so convoluted... and yet so simple. Either way we choose, he will probably gain some advantage. He never moves, otherwise."

He shook his head once again, his copper hair swirling angrily around him. "No, you can be sure that he has already gained something in sending this. Maybe it is merely confirmation of my existence, or maybe of my position. He probably suspects that I would betray him- this letter could be to strain our already tense relationship, or if I have not, and am still in chains, then he could get something out of me. After all, I am already in your citadel, while he is not. If I were loyal, this would grant him a strong advantage."

"So what do we do?" Azurite asked once more. They stared at each other for a long moment, gauging loyalties, and he spoke once again. "I lean towards bringing him here, Zoisite-san. It may be what he wants, but at least here, I can keep an eye on him."

"And you can pretend to barter over me?" Zoisite shrugged, his voice noncommittal. "Its an obvious ploy, one he'll be suspecting, but he could never be sure. I don't know what you want to gain from it, though. Even if you got us alone, and I'm not sure you trust me that much, I wouldn't be able to kill him. I wouldn't even be able to stand aside and let him be killed. The only possible advantage you could have is to let him have me, and I become a permanent informer."

Zoisite's green eyes became flinty as he stared into their blue counterparts. "But you don't trust me that much, do you? So this discussion is irrelevant. And anyway, there's no guessing if he'll just kill me once he has me. These "negotiations" might merely be about that: tying up loose ends. He doesn't trust me; maybe he's making sure that I won't ever be able to hurt him."

"True. So any advantage we gain would have to be a temporary one. He'll be within reach... that's all we can hope for." Azurite sighed. "You'll be the excuse to get him here; beyond that, you're out of this picture. You can't directly hurt him... but if you don't know what I'm up to, then I can. As it is now, you couldn't possibly tell him anything that he doesn't already know."

Zoisite sighed, and stood, stretching suddenly tense muscles. "Fine," he agreed. "I'm nothing more than a lure. But if you can do something about him... I'll be much happier for it."

* * *

They stood together, relatively alone. Azurite's men crowded the dais, and Kunzite's the foyer, but in the center of the Grand Hall, Zoisite stood uneasily under Kunzite's gaze. Kunzite had asked to speak to him privately, and Zoisite wondered what the First King could see when he looked down at him. Did he see a traitor? Or was he seeing an advantage? But whatever he expected Kunzite to say, the First King's words were not them.

"Are you unhurt?" Steel grey eyes perused him calmly, and Zoisite steamed inside. As if the old bastard really cared. Zoisite considered pounding on him to prove his health, but both the binders on his hands and the geas on his soul prevented him, so he decided to yell instead. It couldn't hurt anything. Maybe if he looked too docile or hopeful, then Kunzite would know something was wrong.

Zoisite sneered up at him. "Why, exactly, are you even here?" he asked insolently, eyeing the older king askance. "I hate you. Can't stand you. You know this. So why are you trying to rescue me?"

Kunzite raised an amused eyebrow, and lifted a gloved hand to tug a lock of copper hair. Zoisite immediately jerked back. "Glad to see you've regained that spirit of yours," he said smoothly. "Perhaps I want you merely to break it once again?"

Zoisite considered spitting at him, then decided to snort instead. "That'd be like you, sadistic bastard that you are. I was wondering how long it would take you to stop acting polite, and here you are. Power really fucks you up, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps," Kunzite merely murmured, and then moved quickly, jerking Zoisite back towards him and closing a large hand around his throat. "I could kill you right now," he mused, looking down into startled green eyes. "I don't know what Azurite was thinking, letting me near you. You see," and he began to squeeze Zoisite's windpipe, "I know you've turned. You're rather predictable when it comes to me, you know."

He continued speaking softly, spelling Zoisite to keep him still, effectively cutting off his struggling. He brought him closer so that only he could hear what he was saying. "'I hate you. Can't stand you.' Why wouldn't a person like this betray me at the first chance he had? Poor, poor Zoisite. You must really become more clever than this."

The hands pressed tighter, and the world greyed at the edges, became steadily blacker. Zoisite heard a struggle behind him, swords clashing as they came closer and closer, and for a second he hoped that Azurite was rescuing him and that he wasn't hallucinating... but that would give away their game. Azurite didn't know what Zoisite did: Kunzite hadn't come to barter or to see if there was an advantage to be gained. He had chosen the easiest way, and had immediately eliminated the threat. It was so obvious, so blatantly obvious. He should have known better.

Kunzite's warm breath tickled his ear as he leaned closer, continuing his previous sentence. "Pity. You never had a chance."

The world blacked out.

* * *

When Zoisite woke up, he was more than shocked. He was speechless. He stared around his quarters for a full minute before he even said a word.

For he was in his quarters, and there were no guards present. There were no chains on his wrists and ankles, and when he pushed back his silk nightclothes, he could see that he was not bruised either. He was in his rooms, and there was a tray beside his table, and his stomach was growling at the smell of food.

"This just isn't fair," he muttered, and he swung out of bed.

Only to fall back into it when Kunzite suddenly appeared beside him. He toppled back onto his mattress, and stared stupidly at the king before him. The First King had been warded against him, warded to such an extent that it meant his own magic was...

"I'm not even going to comment on the unfairness of that," Zoisite choked out. He grasped with mental fingers to the source of his power, only to find it gone. Or blocked. Or something. "What have you done?"

"Relax," Kunzite told him, gesturing for the younger man to lie back with his fingers. "I merely want you to listen before you go blasting about with your overworked energy."

Zoisite tried to calm himself, but his power was calling; he wanted to reach out and break the barrier...he took a deep breath. "Fine," he ground out, "I'm listening. First question: why am I not dead?"

Kunzite smiled slightly, but he looked disappointed. "Same answer I've always given. You're far too useful to kill."

"Huh," Zoisite replied. "I don't believe you. That was when I couldn't touch you. I've shown that I can betray you now."

Kunzite shrugged, still looking down at him with thinly amused eyes. "Obviously, you're not that much of a threat. As you found, you still do not have enough knowledge or power to truly hinder me."

Zoisite smugly regarded him. "Exactly. So, obviously, I'm pretty much useless. Now... that makes me either not-a-threat-and-useless or useful-and-a-threat." His voice hardened. "Again, I repeat: why am I still alive?"

Kunzite's small smile remained in place, but his eyes were predatory. "Perhaps you merely amuse me." He reached out as he sat on Zoisite's bed, and caressed one of the younger man's exposed legs.

Zoisite kicked at it, his expression unchanging. "Right. I'm still not buying. I'm not that amusing, and furthermore, I'm not a bed toy." His green eyes narrowed with ill-concealed hatred, and he snarled at the other man. "Been there. Done that. I broke down, became your oh-so-good servant, and you lost interest."

Zoisite closed his eyes, remembering Ami and what had happened afterwards. It seemed so long ago. Everything since that time seemed shadowed and surreal; he had hated and he had loved, he had hoped and he had ceased to care, and it was all so far away. All that was left was this burning, undying anger. And Kunzite was deliberately fueling it.

He opened his eyes, glaring at the First King. "Well?" he demanded.

Kunzite's eyes had narrowed in response. "Be careful, little one. I did that to you once. Don't make me do it again. You're alive because I wished it so; call it my one good deed."

The words chilled him; instinctively, he gathered himself, getting to his knees on the bed so he could match Kunzite's height. "You talk about your 'one good deed' and my rape in the same sentence," he grated out, fear and rage both getting the better of him. "Thanks, but no thanks. If it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather choose death than... than... than your 'one good deed'!"

Hands slamming him into the floor; a knife and Ami's blood mingling as Kunzite carved into his skin... the memories exploded within his mind and choked him. Gasping, trying to escape both past and present, Zoisite launched himself at Kunzite, slamming ungracefully into the older man and sprawling them both across the floor. For a moment, immersed with fear-induced adrenaline, Zoisite took the advantage and plowed painfully into Kunzite's face with his fists, but the older man quickly gained leverage and flipped their positions.

"You want to die, do you?" Kunzite ground out, snarling into the younger man's face. He grunted as Zoisite continued to pound on him, but his eyes were glazed and unseeing, his voice was twisted and ugly. "Well, maybe I want you to suffer," he hissed ominously. "Beside me, so that I can watch. I want to see you cry and squirm like a girl like you did when Ami was..."

"Damn you!" Zoisite cried with overwhelming grief, and he reached out with his fingers and clawed the other man's face, simultaneously kicking out with his feet. Kunzite fell away from him, and Zoisite once again tackled him, reaching for his eyes.

Kunzite grabbed his wrists and twisted them; Zoisite screamed in pain as his arms came close to being broken. Kunzite used his other hand to rip at Zoisite's shirt; it came off with a sound reminiscent of a scream, and Zoisite yelled again as he felt his exposure. In desperation, he leaned forward and bit the arm holding him; Kunzite dropped him with a curse.

But Zoisite wasn't done. He backhanded the older man instantly, and reached out to tear away Kunzite's shirt. Let the First King know how it felt to be completely dominated, let him feel how it would be to be helpless. With a snarl he leaned down and bit at Kunzite's neck, feeling smugly satisfied when blood streamed into his mouth.

Kunzite pushed him away immediately, his eyes cold and his expression colder. "I go through all the trouble to save you from Nephrite, and this is how you repay me?" he said softly. His hand reached out, grasping the copper curls and yanking Zoisite to the ground beside him. He quickly straddled the younger man, looking down at him with a weighing expression. "Perhaps your first lesson wasn't learned as well as I thought it was. It seems time to repeat it."

He leaned down to bite at Zoisite's cheek, ignoring the struggles of the smaller man. "What are you talking about?" Zoisite yelped, pushing desperately at the older man's chest, then swatting at his face. "Saved me from Nephrite? How?"

Kunzite pulled back to smile sardonically down at him. "Azurite made a bargain with Nephrite. Yes, Nephrite," he answered Zoisite's confused expression. "He's been back for months, now. Apparently," and Kunzite leaned back down to nip painfully at Zoisite's ear, "he still holds a grudge against you, even though more than six years have past. His hatred is delightful, isn't it?"

Zoisite squirmed as Kunzite continued his ministrations, yelping as Kunzite sank his teeth into his shoulder, drawing blood. "And so," Kunzite continued, "Azurite was merely waiting till I was defeated to hand you over to his ally. I decided that he couldn't have you. Something to do with that six years of nursing me back to health, I guess." He bit down on Zoisite's exposed nipple, causing the younger man to scream. "Gratitude is overrated, don't you think?"

Zoisite stared at him in horror. "You really did come to rescue me?" he gasped out, momentarily distracted from Kunzite's bloodying teeth. Kunzite didn't give him the time to recover.

"Hmm," the First King replied. "Among other things." He dug his nails into the pale skin beneath him, watching with apparent fascination as blood welled in the scratches. "I must admit, I was planning on killing Azurite anyway, but you being there rather... increased the urgency." He rocked slightly, edging his weight more heavily against the younger man.

It was then that Zoisite felt Kunzite's erection nudging against his thigh. For a second, he stilled, his mind going blank as it remembered past horrors, but the words he had just heard snapped him out of it. Kunzite's words made him angry, they made him furious; they jerked him away from helplessness and horror and a into blazing, white-hot fury.

"You saved me," he spat out, "only to rape me?" He flung himself at the First King, reaching for the older man's groin as he did so. Kunzite stilled as Zoisite's hand closed dangerously around the vulnerable member. "You sick, sadistic bastard!"

Kunzite's brutality mingled with the horror in his own mind, and he reacted swiftly, leaning over and grabbing onto Kunzite's nipple with his teeth. Blood spurted in his mouth. He then tore other skin with his free hand, delighting in Kunzite's pain as the older man writhed below him. Tightening his grip on Kunzite's erection, he then reached out to grasp a section of the First King's hair. He would tear it out; he would mar that beauty forever. He would repay every slight, insult, and abuse Kunzite had ever bestowed on him. Grasping the silver-white strands, he yanked it forward experimentally, savoring the expectation.

Then his eyes met Kunzite's.

It brought him back to himself. Sentient eyes, staring back at him, capable of both pain and hope, bravery and fear. Shadowed with the same unseeing inhumanity, the same unrelenting guilt. One and the same, the both of them, tied together in some ritual of pain and pleasure, an almost beautiful/horrendous dance of brutality and tenderness. It brought him back to himself, and it grieved him immeasurably.

"I can't do this," he finally whispered, releasing his hold on Kunzite. "Not even to you."

He gathered his power to teleport, and was shocked with the remembrance-his power had been locked away. He could have been overwhelmed at any moment; Kunzite could have killed him with the slightest thought, the smallest inclination. But the First King hadn't. He had allowed the abuse, had welcomed Zoisite's ungentle treatment...

Zoisite stared down at Kunzite, and he felt a tear trickle down his face. "You wanted me to hurt you, Kunzite-san."

Kunzite stared up at him, his eyes shuttered. There was a world of defenses in his gaze, the tragedy of a man locked away behind his own barriers, locked away and cherishing a mortal wound." It appears that way," came the guarded and quiet voice. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to... the geas."

Zoisite nodded solemnly, staring into Kunzite's gaze. His own eyes, reflected back at him. "The geas," he whispered, and it was life and death seeping between them, the chorus of unwakened and bleeding thought.

"Why?" he was all he could ask.

A broken melody, a tune with so very many jarring chords. "I don't really know," came the reply.

Zoisite began to weep, silently, his sobs internalized as his shoulders shook minutely. His hands grasped his shirt tightly, desperately holding the seams of himself together. When he spoke his voice was calm, almost distant. "Why are we doing this to each other?"

Kunzite seemed to think for a second, for his answer was slow in coming. He stared into Zoisite's eyes, as if looking for something vital, something important... and searching in vain. Whatever he needed, it was not there. "Because... we hate each other," was his final reply.

Zoisite nodded dully. "We do."

He shook silently for a few minutes, feeling something break inside him. The moments passed, and emerging from the broken seam within himself, an idea burst into light. The feeling was terrible in its beauty... and horribly confusing. He could barely put the thought into words.

"Do we?"

Silence.

Then, "Let me heal you."

The sobs escaped then, the sounds of desperation escaping from his chest and out through his vocal cords. He was crying, and then he started laughing, a high-pitched screech that alternately exploded and died. And then Kunzite was kneeling beside him, and hands were placed on his wounds; warm power flowed into his body and the coldness was all the more apparent for it. He leaned back against the body next to his, craving warmth, but there wasn't enough; there was never enough. There was only the emptiness and the endless, endless cold.

"Don't cry any more," Kunzite told him, and Zoisite hiccuped.

"But we deserve it," Zoisite told him, wiping the tears from his eyes and yet, even at this extremity, he tried to obey Kunzite's command.

"We do," Kunzite replied, and then they were kissing.