Ryoga shook the hot water out of his hair as steam rose from his nude body, dissipating promptly in the cool night air. His mouth set in a firm, tight line, he quickly pulled on the pants and shirt Ranma had retrieved for him, then wrapped his sleeping bag around himself and inched a little closer to the fire. "Hai," he acknowledged softly, fixing his attention on the dancing flames.

"You’re gonna catch cold," Ranma frowned at him, feeling a little like a nagging mother. "Put on the coat Kasumi sent you. "

"No," Ryoga replied simply.

Ranma decided not to argue with him for now. He had the feeling that this conversation was going to get stressed enough, without any more angst thrown into the fray. He wasn’t looking forward to doing this, to making Ryoga talk about what he had done, but Ranma needed the information. He had to know how deep the damage went before he could come up with a way to fix it.

Privately, Ranma had to wonder what had inspired him to promise Ryoga that he would make everything better. How could he possibly repair something like this? He had no idea, but he was determined to try. For Ryoga’s sake, his honor . . . ({ His sanity, }) Ranma thought to himself, shivering. ({ I don’t ever want to see Ryoga like that again. Ever. })

"At least eat something," Ranma urged, pushing the packets of food at him.

He was pleased when Ryoga silently picked up a rice ball and took a bite from it, but waited until he had eaten the entire thing before starting up the conversation again. Clearing his throat, Ranma leaned forward to pour some of the green tea that he had re-heated along with Ryoga’s hot water. He winced slightly at the strain in his shoulder, a reminder of the hard landing the shishi hokodan had visited upon him, but decided not to worry about it for right now. He was used to occasional pain from training, and at the moment Ryoga was more important anyway.

"Let’s hear it, Ryoga," he requested simply, as he handed the other young man a cup of the hot tea, hoping it would help to soothe both their nerves. "What happened? Why would you . . . well, do something like that?"

Ryoga looked down, wrapping his hands around the cup. "I thought at the time that I had no choice," he replied quietly, his voice flat and lifeless. "I was lost, like usual. In Hong Kong. I couldn’t find the way out to save my worthless life. I was stuck in that cursed city, when I ran out of food. Normally, wouldn’t be a problem though, you know?"

Ranma nodded. He knew that Ryoga was actually quite skilled at living in the wilderness, he certainly couldn’t have survived as long as he had if he wasn’t. He was an expert fisherman as well as a capable hunter when he didn’t lose his way, and was usually able to fend for himself quite well. A city was an entirely different situation, however. One couldn’t hunt in a metropolitan area, nor was foraging very likely. Fishing was possible only in accordance with local laws, but not a very desirable alternative considering the pollution generated by industry and the general population.

"How the heck did you end up in Hong Kong?" he heard himself asking.

"How do I end up anywhere, Ranma?" Ryoga answered dully. "I don’t know."

"Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question. Okay, so didn’t you have any money?"

Ryoga began to unfold the story in low measured tones, almost sounding as if it were some sort of memorized recitation. He fixed his gaze on the flickering flames, perhaps letting the hypnotic movements pacify him so that this discussion wouldn’t hurt as much.

"Money isn’t usually a concern. Whenever I make it home, I normally find an allowance which my father leaves behind for me, except for this particular time. I think I was home before he was, because there wasn’t any. So, all I had was the small amount that I usually try to save for just that situation. But, by the time I found myself in Hong Kong, it was pretty much gone, and the exchange rate wasn’t very good right then. Basically, I had next to nothing, and I went through it fast."

Ranma looked up as Ryoga paused. Pulling the sleeping bag a little tighter around his shoulders, the Lost Boy glanced behind him, his eyes glittering uneasily in the dark. He seemed almost as if he were afraid that something was coming up behind them, but Ranma looked with him and saw nothing there. He was about to ask Ryoga what the problem was, when the young man continued his story.

"I was okay to start with, but after about a week of wandering around, I began to feel sick. A combination of some sort of flu and not eating, I think. I was getting pretty desperate by that time, trying to find the way out of the city, and even though I know Cantonese well enough to get by, it seems like the directions people gave me were just gibberish. I asked for work, but to most of the people there I was just a foreign migrant, and they weren’t about to give a job to some transient drifter.

"Eventually, I ended up in a small park near the downtown red light district, and met up some street kids. They were all young, around our age Ranma, and had come in from the outlying areas looking for work, or whatever. Some of them were runaways, some addicts. It didn’t really matter. Like me, they had no place to go, and had banded together, safety in numbers and all that. At night they would gather around a bonfire there in the park and keep each other company, unless they had a trick to turn or were otherwise busy elsewhere. I really didn’t know what else to do, so I stayed with them. They shared what they had, but I was still sick, so the food they gave me really didn’t help. Even though I was hungry, I couldn’t keep it down.

"During the day they made the rounds downtown, looking for anything they could take for themselves. They stole a lot, to get food or money for drugs and alcohol. I couldn’t resort to that, it doesn’t matter how sick or hungry I am, I will not violate someone else by stealing from them."

Ranma found himself squirming uncomfortably. It wasn’t hard to visualize what the young man was describing, having experienced situations very similar while growing up. Wandering around with his father, there had been plenty of times when they were hungry and had to resort to . . . less than socially acceptable means of securing dinner. That was, in fact, one of the things Ranma really resented his father for. After all, Genma had taught his son to respect the martial arts codes of honor, and then regularly turned around and broke those codes. It really shamed Ranma to hear Ryoga say that he would never resort to theft, thereby violating someone else, when he himself had resorted to exactly that on numerous occasions. For Kami’s sake, he’d even stolen from Ryoga!

But Ranma had never been put into a situation where he might have felt it necessary to sell his body, he’d always had alternatives. The very idea of prostitution made him feel ill, but he stayed silent about it, not wanting to interrupt Ryoga now that he was finally talking. He carefully studied the Lost Boy’s profile and the highlights of the camp fire that danced across his features. Ranma tried to imagine Ryoga sick, lost, and out of options. He found the image profoundly disturbing.

"But after a couple more days of getting nowhere, I knew that I had to do something," Ryoga continued quietly. "I was feeling constantly lightheaded and had lost a great deal of weight by that time. One morning I was too tired and sick to even try and find a way out of Hong Kong, I just slept in the park all day, getting up to move whenever the police came by to run me out. It finally came down to this: I had to make a choice. Either hurt someone else by stealing from them, hurt myself, or die."

Ranma winced, looking clearly upset. "Ryoga," he breathed. "Why didn’t you . . . well, I would have . . . I mean, you could have. . . "

"I could have called you?" Ryoga glanced at him, eyes heavy and tired. He seemed far, far older than he should have. "And admit to my greatest rival that I was in trouble? Yeah right, Ranma."

The other young man sighed and looked away. Of course Ryoga’s honor and pride would prevent him from asking for help. Out on his own, as he always was, the Lost Boy had only himself to depend on, and had obviously cultivated the independence instilled into most martial arts students to an extreme, perhaps even obsessive, degree. For Ryoga, asking for help - showing a weakness - meant leaving himself open for attack. It meant admitting that he was beaten. Ranma found that he could relate to that to some degree, as he was also averse to seeking help, even in the most desperate of situations, a trait that his father had firmly pounded into him over the years. Survival at any cost was another cede of martial arts, but sometimes death was the far more desirable choice.

But . . . that was only in combat. Real life, Ranma realized rather suddenly, was vastly different. There was no honor in dying alone and sick in a strange city hundreds of miles away from family and friends . . . from anyone who even knew you. Survival was the only option in that case.

But was it really worth the price Ryoga had paid? He had sold his body. Now, as far as the Art was concerned he had no honor, no virtue, no pride . . . no future. Dying alone or prostitution, it had really made no difference.

({ Pride, honor . . . it wouldn’t have mattered to me, Ryoga. I would have helped you anyway. I know I would have. }) Ranma shut his eyes slowly, his face hot. It shamed him to think that their friendship had gone so wrong that he was no longer Ryoga’s protector, that the Lost Boy didn’t trust him in that same way any more. ({ Well, of course he don’t; just look at everything I’ve done to him over the years. Shimatta! When I think of all the times I could have been his friend rather than his rival . . . it just makes me sick . . . }) Ryoga had given up everything . . . everything . . . and for what?

For what? Ranma thought about that for a moment, then realized slowly that something about all of this simply did not ring true. Honor and pride had always been so important to Ryoga, more important than just about anything else. And Ranma knew how Ryoga’s mind worked. Under normal circumstances, the Lost Boy would have never chosen dishonor over death. So, why had he? What had happened that Ryoga would allow himself to be used in such a way? It -had- to be something far more serious than just being hurt or lost. ({ Why, Ryoga? Why? Oh, Kami-sama . . . how am I gonna fix this?! })

"Anyway," Ryoga’s voice shifted slightly, drawing Ranma’s attention back to the matter at hand. The Lost Boy opened his mouth, as if to continue, then faltered, glancing over his shoulder again. When he turned back to the fire, he looked momentarily pained, then shivered, huddling down in his sleeping bag. As he had on the dance floor, Ranma saw Ryoga’s emotions simply shut down, all trace of them disappeared as if they had never been and his face went frighteningly blank.

And once again, Ranma could not help but think how utterly wrong that was, especially for Ryoga. A new alarm began to ring in Ranma’s head. Something else . . . something else -had- happened . . . something that Ryoga was afraid of . . .

"Ryoga?" he asked softly.

The young man started, blinking rapidly. He cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, once I made the decision, it was remarkably easy to get picked up," Ryoga said in a disturbingly even tone, as if he were talking about the weather or some other everyday topic. "He was an American, visiting Hong Kong on business. We spent the night together and he paid me in the morning. That’s about it."

Ranma frowned, his dark blue eyes narrowing as he stared at Ryoga, not able to believe what he had just heard. No, this wasn’t right. Only a half-hour ago Ryoga had been ready to kill, and now he was blowing it off like it was nothing? Even with the most mundane of subjects, Ryoga was rarely so calm . . . so plastic. Ranma was not about to accept that.

"The hell it is," he countered.

Ryoga looked up, confusion penetrating the cast of his face. "What?"

Ranma leaned forward. "You ain’t telling me everything, Ryoga. C’mon, you gotta be open with me if I’m going to help you. Don’t gloss over the details just because they scare you. Now, what really happened?" he asked firmly.

"That -is- what really happened. He paid me, I used the money to catch the next boat back to Japan. There isn’t anything else to tell you," Ryoga replied tightly and a bit angrily, swallowing down the rest of his tea in a gulp. "Isn’t that bad enough?"

"Yeah, but not so bad that you’d fry me with a shishi hokodan just for trying to touch you." Ranma indicated one of the larger scorch marks on his jacket.

Ryoga’s soft brown eyes widened, and his face turned absolutely white. Around the cup he was holding, his grip tightened visibly. For a long moment, he simply stared at Ranma, an expression of horror on his face. The plastic cup shattered in his hand, crumbling away into little pieces.

"I . . . I d - did?" Ryoga whispered.

Ranma bit his lower lip, feeling unsettled deep in the pit of his gut. ({ Kami-sama! He’s suppressing this stuff so deeply that he doesn’t even remember attacking me! Damn it! I’m no good at this! What am I suppose to do now?! })

He was way out of his league, and he knew it. Ryoga obviously needed help, but it really should be professional help. Ranma worried over whether or not he would just make things worse. He didn’t want to hurt Ryoga, but instinctively Ranma knew that this had to be dealt with, or it would simply continue to get worse. The next time, Ryoga’s shishi hokodan might not be just for show. ({ Next time, he might kill me, or someone else. I don’t want to traumatize him any more, but he can’t keep this buried. Somehow, I got to get it out where I can deal with it, and hope I don’t end up making everything worse. })

Ryoga now had his face buried in his hands, upset that he would try to use such a potentially fatal technique against someone who was trying to help him, someone he had always considered a friend, deep down in his most private heart. But the fact that he actually didn’t remember doing it, made the whole thing seem much more frightening and terrible.

From within, Ryoga once again experienced that strange sense of being stalked. He had been feeling it throughout the telling of his story, a vague half-formed presence that was creeping up on him like distant hell waiting to pounce. But now . . . now that something awful which he couldn’t see or understand was trailing immediately behind him, tugging at the edges of his mind, whispering hissingly at him. Frustratingly enough, when Ryoga mentally turned around to look, nothing was there, save a darkness so impenetrable that it was almost solid.

{( What’s wrong with me?! )} Ryoga wailed silently. Trying to stop shaking, he looked up at Ranma, tears once again in his eyes. "I’m sorry Ranma . . . I - I didn’t mean . . . I d - don’t remember . . . "

Ranma swallowed hard, unease and uncertainty making his stomach flutter. He didn’t know what to do, and so resorted to the one shield he’d always been able to erect with success in the past. Indifference. If he didn’t make a big deal out of it, then perhaps it wouldn’t seem as bad to Ryoga.

"Forget it, Ryoga," he shrugged, lightening his tone and grabbing another sandwich. "It ain’t like it’s the first time you’ve ever tried to kill me. I’m used to it now."

"I don’t -want- to kill you, Ranma!" Ryoga snapped suddenly, tearfully, his volatile temper rising to the surface for a brief moment. "Though I’ve been plenty angry enough with you to do it on numerous occasions. I’ve never wanted to kill you!"

Panicked thoughts began to spring unbidden into Ryoga’s mind, running loose as his guard came down. Stalking . . . that something was getting closer. The Lost Boy felt unfounded fear flutter in his chest. Kill . . . he’d never wanted to kill Ranma . . . never wanted to kill anyone . . . kill . . . oh Kami . . . A strange dizziness thrummed in his head as he tried to shake his thoughts back into order. From the solid wall of darkness, something gazed at him with hateful green eyes . . . reaching out with hands that were large and invading, hands that meant only to hurt him. Ryoga wanted to bolt, wanted to flee, but was held in place by bonds he couldn’t see. A strange buzzing began somewhere behind his eyes, growing shrill and loud in a matter of seconds.

Ranma didn’t really notice the glazed look that spread over his companion’s face. He took a bite of his sandwich and stupidly said the first thing that popped into his head. "So, in other words, ‘Ranma Saotome, prepare to die’ is just your way of saying I love you?" he asked sarcastically. The moment the words were out of his mouth, Ranma realized they were a mistake.

Ryoga choked. At first Ranma thought it was in reaction to what he had said and was already starting to babble something that would nullify his words, when Ryoga doubled over, hands going to his forehead. He made a pitiful strangulated sound and rocked forward, nearly pitching right into the fire.

Ranma shot forward and caught him before he burned himself. "Ryoga!" he yelped, tipping the Lost Boy back and pulling him away from the dangerous campfire. To Ranma’s shock, Ryoga began to shake violently in his arms, as if he were having some sort of seizure.

"I didn’t . . . I never meant . . . didn’t want to kill . . . " Ryoga’s hissed the words out between chattering teeth, his entire body trembling beyond his control. His head fell, as if he had just lost all the strength in his neck, and his eyes rolled back into his head before he closed them.

The sight scared the hell out of Ranma. Dismayed, and not having the slightest idea of what he could do, he pulled the young man into an embrace, cradling him close to his own body. "Damn it! Ryoga! What the hell is wrong?! Ryoga!"

Stalking . . . it was getting closer. Ryoga grappled with his hold on sentience, fighting his way back to the surface of his thoughts. He knew that he was frightening Ranma, and he could feel the other boy’s arms around him. The sensation made him want to scream, but he held back, letting only a pleading whimper escape his throat, while he concentrated on pulling away from the huge terrifying blackness which was hunting him. Kill . . . the word was laced with poisons in his mind, a vicious terrible sound that was ready to strike at him. But even as he ran from the looming secret that followed him, Ryoga mentally tripped over the truth as if it were a snake laying in wait for him to blunder over it. Kill . . . he didn’t want to kill . . . he hadn’t meant . . . he hadn’t meant to kill . . .

"Ryo-kun!!"

Kami-sama, it was terrible! Ranma could only stare in blank fear as Ryoga shuttered in his arms, completely oblivious to anything Ranma said or did to snap him out of it. ({ What am I suppose to do?! Ryoga! Oh Kami-sama, help him! What’s wrong with him?! })

Somewhere, hysterical claustrophobia began to edge in on Ryoga’s mind. Irrational fear flooded him. Ranma was too close, and closeness meant pain, torture, and other things too horrible to remember. He wanted to cry out, wanted to run, but in response to his increased agitation, Ranma only secured his hold, grinding his own teeth together in determination, wrapping his legs around Ryoga’s to keep him firmly pinned in place.

With a soft whimper that he was obviously fighting to control, Ryoga began to struggle a little harder. "Please . . . "

"I’m not letting go of you, Ryoga."

"Please! I can’t stand it! Ranma! Please!" Ryoga arched against Ranma’s hold, and his hands started to glow lightly with desperate power, sure indication of an impending shishi hokodan. Quickly, Ranma shifted his hold, tightening one arm around Ryoga and grabbing the boy’s wrists with his free hand. He shook Ryoga slightly, feeling his already abused muscles sing from the effort of holding the boy down.

"No, don’t you dare!" Ranma hissed at him. "You burned me enough last time. I ain’t letting go of you until you calm down."

"Please!" Ryoga shrieked, squirming harder now that his hands were restrained. Had he been at his normal weight and usual strength, Ranma knew full well that he would not have been able hold the boy. He was hard pressed to keep Ryoga contained as it was.

"Please, let go of me! Ranma . . . please! I’m begging you . . . I’m begging . . . I didn’t mean to do it! " Ryoga tried to yank his hands free, but Ranma kept a firm hold on him. This seemed to prompt Ryoga into greater panic. He twisted and growled lowly, his fangs showing, as he fought to release himself from the embrace, trying to kick his legs out from beneath Ranma’s. "Ranma! Please!!"

"What happened, Ryoga? What didn’t you mean to do?" Ranma prompted demandingly, hating himself for what he was doing, even though he knew intuitively that it had to be done. Things were starting to come out now, Ranma could see that, prompted undoubtedly by panic. Ryoga had done something that scared him, but what? Ranma knew that he had to find out, but seeing Ryoga’s gently rounded face twisted in such pain hurt Ranma down to his very core. He fought to resist the urge to let the boy go. Instead, he leaned in, bringing his face close to Ryoga’s, letting his thick bangs brush against the other boy’s. "Look at me!" he ordered sharply.

Ryoga’s eyes snapped open, and Ranma felt him start violently at finding them face to face. "No . . . " the Lost Boy whined softly, tears forming immediately and spilling down over his cheeks. Within seconds, he was sobbing, but his deep brown eyes were looking right through Ranma, as if he were no longer seeing him, but something else entirely. "No . . . " he pleaded again, his voice that of a young frightened boy more then the man he almost was. "Don’t hurt me . . . don’t hurt me again . . . I can’t - I can’t take it . . ."

"I’m not going to hurt you, Ryo-kun," Ranma whispered, briefly wondering if Ryoga was pleading with him, or someone else unseen. He lowered his face even more, so that his forehead rested against Ryoga’s, and he could feel the desperate heat of hysterical fever which rose from the Lost Boy’s body.

Ranma closed his own eyes, and tried something that he had never attempted before, but had heard of from various martial arts masters he’d encountered over the years. As he felt Ryoga quivering beneath him, Ranma attempted to still his own mind. It was difficult, for Ryoga’s increasingly incoherent pleas penetrated Ranma like blades, sticking accusingly into him repeatedly without mercy, and renegade thoughts of regret repeated themselves over and over like some sick mantra. If only. If only he hadn’t abandoned his friendship with Ryoga. If only he had stuck close to protect and guide him as he always wanted to . . . if only . . .

With a deep firm breath, Ranma forced the thoughts out of his head. Whatever had happened in the past, he -was- here now, and he -would- help Ryoga through this. Proceeding past Ryoga’s sobbing and struggling, Ranma found a determined center in his own mind and gently used it to project himself into the other boy, to feel what he was feeling, to share his wildly escalating emotions and the pain that had built up within. Slowly, he began to lose the sense of himself, and he felt the first inklings of absolute terror filter into his head from Ryoga. He tried to calm the panicked boy, bringing with him only soothing thoughts and feelings.

"I’m with you, Ryo-kun," he said in a voice more mental than physical. "We’ll face it together."

"No . . . " Ryoga tried to resist this intrusion, but found that he couldn’t. Ranma’s familiar aura was already within, whispering quietly, trying to soothe and calm him. His presence was subdued and sheltering, like the old worn blanket that Ryoga had coveted as toddler. Caring . . . comfort . . . love . . . it had been so long since Ryoga had felt anything like that genuinely directed towards him, and as frightening as Ranma’s closeness was, Ryoga didn’t want it to end. He latched onto it like a life preserver, clinging tightly. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath Ranma’s protection and lose himself forever. Ranma would take care of him, right? Hadn’t he sworn to? Hadn’t he promised?

But that something was still out there, still after him. With Ranma’s presence shielding and protecting him, Ryoga thought he might be able to face it, to turn on it and put an end to its merciless chase.

Within his mind, the Lost Boy pulled Ranma’s strength around himself as a shield and turned, staring directly into the vicious green eyes and letting the clawing hands grasp at him. Ryoga shuttered, as a feeling of revulsion and horror grew within him, starting as a small black spot deep in his heart and quickly expanding to fill his entire being. Somewhere, a hole opened and memories too terrible to exist came to life once more.

Ryoga’s struggles stopped abruptly and he went limp in Ranma’s arms, much to the surprise of the other boy. As the Lost Boy began to sob, Ranma opened his eyes and looked down at the young man he was holding for a long moment, brushing his bangs back away from his face in a repetitive gesture meant to lend reassurance. When Ryoga reached up and grasped the front of his jacket, hanging on as if he were about to fall from some sheer cliff, Ranma accommodated by hugging him closer, easing him up until Ryoga’s face was pressed close to his chest, his crying muffled by the material of Ranma’s clothes.

"I . . . I d - d - didn’t mean t - t - to k - k - k -. . . " Ryoga stuttered chokingly, unable to get the final word out.

"I know," Ranma soothed, rocking him slowly. Deep down inside, Ranma was shocked, but set the feeling aside to be dealt with later. Right now, only Ryoga was important. He was relieved that the young man’s strange seizure appeared to be over, but had the feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Ranma decided that he didn’t care. He had made a promise, and this time he damn well intended to keep it. He was Ryoga’s protector, his friend, his . . . Ranma shut his eyes slowly. He couldn’t get ahead of himself. They would sort all that out later. For right now, he was content to simply hold the Lost Boy, share his strength and warmth with him, and pray that it would be enough.

"You’re all right, Ryo-kun," Ranma assured him, bending down to place a kiss on Ryoga’s feverish forehead, even as he continued to rock the crying boy. "Don’t worry. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you go."

********************************

Akane didn’t even bother trying to hold back her tears. They burned in her brown eyes and against the skin of her face as she made her way down the side of the cliff, through the heavy brush and undergrowth that littered the rocky slope. For the moment, all of her concentration was devoted to making sure she was quiet, that she did nothing to alert the two boys at the campsite to her presence. That wouldn’t do, not right now. Though she would have liked nothing better than to go racing down there to kill them both, she tempered her rage, rolling it into a tight black ball within herself, where it could fester and eat at her.

It was how she usually dealt with her anger, but she had never before been this angry. This was a fury that she was hard pressed to hold within, one that threatened to consume her with uncontrollable rage. Though she often gave in to her tantrums, never before had she felt like she did now. At this moment, all she wanted was retribution. She didn’t want to hold it in, but she knew that she had to. Right now, it was more important that she get close enough to find out what was going on, to learn why her treacherous iinazuke was cradling that . . . that . . . Akane’s mind couldn’t come up with a word horrible enough to describe Ryoga. She simply blanked out his name in her train of thought and continued her silent scramble down the hill.

It was the awful betrayal that caused her painful tears. How long had it been now since she adopted P-Chan as her beloved pet? She couldn’t even remember. And she had loved him so much! P-Chan was the one being that she trusted with all of her private secrets, and the single outlet for her deeply buried feelings of maternal instinct. He had been her baby, her most treasured possession. But all that time, in the two or so years that she had been caring for him, loving him, he had actually been . . . oh, how could he?! How could that insufferable beast have used her like that?! He had lied to her, betrayed her feelings and emotions . . . the words kept spinning through her mind . . . how could he? How could he?!

She’d always thought that Ryoga was her friend, that he was honest and good hearted, that he loved her. And truthfully, there had been a few times when she thought of him as more than just a companion as well. If she hadn’t already been engaged to Ranma, Akane could have easily lost her heart to Ryoga, and had considered it on more than one occasion, though usually it was when her iinazuke was acting like a jerk.

But, a small part of her had always been attracted to Ryoga, charmed by his determination to win her heart, and moved by his shyness. That was why the realization that he had been playing her for a fool all this time, that he had taken advantage of her softer side, had slept in her bed, lied to her . . . that was why it hurt so much . . . she never could have imagined that sweet Ryoga could be so deceitful and cruel.

He was going to pay.

That perverted bastard was going to pay for every single minute he had spent in her presence, pretending to be her pet. She would revisit upon him every tear she was now shedding a thousand fold. She fought to restrain herself from going down to that campsite and smashing him into oblivion with one of her mallets. Oh, she would love that! But, she also knew that it wouldn’t be good enough. No. Ryoga was strong, and he would recover from a physical attack too quickly. Akane knew his real weaknesses. She would not attack his body.

She would tear out his fragile heart and shatter it.

And as for Ranma . . . that vicious snake had obviously known about P-Chan’s identity and yet said nothing! Akane chose to conveniently forget all the times that Ranma called his rival Mr. P or Pig-Boy in front of her, as well as the many little cryptic hints that he had dropped over the years that suddenly made sense. If he had known of such treachery, he should have come right out and told her! He was her iinazuke, and yet he had stood idly by and let Ryoga make a fool of her! He said nothing as she took P-Chan to bed with her each night! He allowed that bastard to use her, and was even in on the deception! He had to be, for Akane’s mind immediately jumped to all the times Ranma had, for some then-mysterious reason, saved Ryoga from falling into the backyard koi pond. What other motivation could he have other than trying to shame and dishonor her?!

Well, they were both going to pay. If Ranma thought that he knew the depths of her temper, he was in for a big surprise. He had no idea what she was really capable of. She would rip them apart.

The only question was how? This was why she needed to get close enough to hear what was going on. From her vantage point on the cliff top, Akane was able to make out that Ryoga was obviously upset and distressed by something. She had quietly seethed through his lengthy conversation with Ranma, only to be shocked when he seemed to suffer some sort of seizure. And though a small distant part of her was concerned, her anger was too great to acknowledge that caring. If Ryoga was suffering, then so much the better.

However, when Ranma embraced his rival, pulling him close and pinning him down tightly, Akane had to forcibly hold herself back. What in the world did Ranma think he was doing?! This alone would have been enough ammunition to use against them both, for obviously their relationship went far deeper then either of them had ever admitted, but Akane wanted more. She wanted to break Ranma, punish him for daring to make a fool of her, betraying her, and for the caring and . . . love? . . . that he was now showing to Ryoga. It wasn’t fair! ~She~ was suppose to be his iinazuke, she was the one he should be showing kindness and understanding towards, not that . . . that . . . PIG. Together, they were betraying her further, shaming her, taking her honor and stomping all over it!

Akane finally made it to the level ground of the forest floor, and carefully picked her way through the undergrowth, around to a spot close to the camp. Yes, she would make sure that Ranma learned his lesson, and learned it good. And Ryoga. She wouldn’t just hurt Ryoga.

She would destroy him. Completely.

*********************************************

Ranma was careful to make sure that he banked the fire well, and moved their packs a good distance away from the flames so that there would be no inadvertent accidents. That placated him somewhat, but he still had a feeling of mild unease, as if he were being watched, and he didn’t like that. Glancing around, his weary blue eyes gathering in the darkness of the night, the young man decided perhaps he was just feeling overly edgy because of the state his companion was in. He sighed and prepared himself for what was to come. Ryoga said that he remembered what had happened, and now Ranma was going to make him talk about it.

Ducking into the tent, he zipped it up behind him securely and felt his way through the close blackness to the pile of joined sleeping bags where Ryoga was waiting for him. The Lost Boy lifted the corner of the coverings to make room for him to slide in, and then Ranma made sure that they were tucked in tightly as he fitted himself in around the warmth of Ryoga’s slim body.

The young man curled back into his arms as if he belonged there, resting his head against Ranma’s strong chest, listening to his heartbeat even through the layers of his clothing. It was a soothing rhythm, one that Ryoga almost thought sounded familiar. Any nervousness, anger, or bitterness he might have felt towards Ranma was shadowed for the time being. Right now, he concentrated only on the offered shelter.

Ranma pulled off Ryoga’s multiple bandanas and tossed them into the darkness, so that he could run his fingers freely through the young man’s thick hair. He noticed absently that it was getting longer. Obviously it had been awhile since Ryoga had cut it. Feeling the uneven lengths play through his fingers, Ranma allowed himself a slight smile, wondering if he could somehow convince the Lost Boy to let it grow out.

Ryoga seemed to like the feel of the stroking fingers in his hair. He sighed softly and pressed his head a little tighter against Ranma’s chest.

"You okay?" Ranma whispered.

"No," Ryoga replied with a small sniffle.

"Well, I won’t let anything hurt you, all right? You’re safe." Ranma nuzzled his face in Ryoga’s hair, drawing in the fresh outdoor scent of it. Holding Ryoga like this felt so good, so natural, like a continuation of something they had begun a long time ago, but abandoned. Some small corner of his mind was still lecturing him with Genma’s voice, reminding him of honor, duty and dojo, but all of that was far away. Ryoga was here and now, and Ranma could put his other responsibilities aside, even if only for a little while. He felt far more comfortable here, holding Ryoga, than he had ever felt with any of his iinazukes. The Lost Boy needed his presence and his support, and Ranma was only too willing to give him both.

({ Maybe I can somehow make up for all the teasing, all the fighting, the angry words . . . I really want Ryoga to trust me again, like he used to. His friendship is one of the only nice memories I got of being a kid. I want it to be that way again. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I want it to be more . . . })

After a long quiet time of simply cradling his companion in his arms, Ranma nudged him just slightly. "Time to talk," he prompted gently. "The whole story, not just highlights."

"It doesn’t matter," Ryoga muttered, shivering despite how toasty warm it was between them.

"Yes it does, Ryo-kun. I’m here to protect you. Now, please."

With a shuddering sigh, Ryoga drew in a low breath and securely pressed himself as close to Ranma as he could physically get, gripping the material of his jacket with tightly clenched fingers. In response, Ranma embraced him more firmly, silently assuring him that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

In tones low and hesitant, the Lost Boy began to whisper the entire story.

To Chapter Six

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