Into the Abyss

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FIC : Into the Abyss
Author : Sagakure
Fandom : Saint Seiya (Knights of the Zodiac, Cavaleiros do Zodiaco, Caballeros del Zodiaco, Chevaliers du Zodiaque).
Pairing : Rhadamanthys x Kanon (also, Saga x Kanon; also everybody x Saga).
Rating : NC17 (For angst, mature content, and possibly bondage/bdsm. Don’t read if it’s not your cup of tea).
Warnings : Set post-Hades war.
Disclaimer : I do not own Saint Seiya. Saint Seiya is (C) of Masami Kurumada, Toei, Shueisha, Akita Shoten and quite probably some more people. No copyright infringement or disrespect intended here. This is a work of fanfiction, done completely for fun. No profit is taken out of it.
Thanks : To Dani, for being a wonderful beta!
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[Into The Abyss – Scene II] – Awakening in an upside down world.


Pain.

It burned.

Yet, at the same time, he was cold. It felt as if he was frozen inside and burning on the outside.

He couldn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by some physical damage or if he was simply too tired for that. Only one thing was certain for him: he was alive. He didn’t know how it was possible, but every inch of his body screamed at him in excruciating pain. You couldn’t hurt that much if you were dead, could you?


He hoped he was alive, for he knew that not even he would be able to stand an eternity of such pain. The shreds of thought in his mind were short and far apart, more like sensations than actual reflections. The armor covering his body was a mystery for him. He clearly remembered removing the gold cloth before the last fight, and his mind was too weary to try to understand what happened. All he could do was feel the metal’s strangely soothing coolness, as well as the more material discomfort caused by broken armor pieces pressing painfully against his abused flesh.

There were voices around him, speaking in low and hushed tones, as if they were afraid that the very sound would hurt him. He thought that he should be wounded pretty badly, for people to be acting that way around him. He wished he could open his eyes and take a look at the damage. It was more unsettling to remain in ignorance than to actually see what was wrong.

He could feel the crusty coat of caked blood covering his face, or at least part of it. Maybe it was what was preventing him from opening his eyes, but that per se wasn’t an unusual sensation for him. He was more worried by the fact that he couldn’t feel most of his body. But then again, he wasn’t even sure if he was dreaming or awake, and his mind kept threatening to slip back into unconsciousness.

All of a sudden, the hushed voices stopped altogether, and the entire world turned upside down with a nauseating swirl deformed by his dimmed senses. The pain made his head spin and tore a weak cry out of his cracked lips.

They were moving him.

The unexpected light along with the sheer pain caused by the movements of the people placing his body on the stretcher sent his already flickering conscience crashing back into oblivion. The last thing he could remember was a polite voice addressing him with respect, mumbling words he didn’t quite understand.

“Everything is going to be fine now, milord Wyvern. The doctors are coming, and we’re taking you to the Mash unit.”


What?


***** * *****


Green walls, green ceiling, green clothes.

Everything was green, light and soft, like an ocen of numb stillness. Everything seemed made of fabric, hanging from the ceiling, draped over the walls, hanging from the doorways. Muffled sounds, as if he was perceiving them through water, or through some sort of veil. Everything seemed slow and incomplete.

Flashes of images, sensations, smells, rather than actual thoughts or real feelings. The strange taste in his mouth, too dry, yearning for something, anything liquid.
The little background noise was ever-present. Not loud enough to be a real nuisance, but so constant that he couldn’t tell if it was part of his vivid nightmares or another chunk of reality that he couldn’t grasp well enough through the fog of sedatives.

The smell of the medication was one more thing that invaded all his senses. It seemed to be coming from his very body as well as from the entire place surrounding him. Everything and everybody smelled like it. Relentless like the tide, the odor brought him yet more reasons to have an agitated sleep.


Time and space had ceased to have any meaning.

He couldn’t tell for how long he had been in that place, or even how many days, weeks or months had passed since they took him to his new room. The surgery – for he could swear there was surgery, if this wasn’t another of his dreams – seemed to be now a distant memory. His constant state of half-dream and half-wake didn’t let him guess if it was all done in one sitting or if he had gone through many operations, but lately he had been staying in the same place.People came regularly to take care of him, clean him and change his clothes, but he was never conscious enough to talk to them . Their presence was more something that he guessed or sensed, rather than a reality that he acknowledged.

Everything he had seen of the place was a maze of green corridors, filled with silhouettes of men in masks who hurried by, the voices of wounded people lost in a daze of blurry softness. It usually sounded like a mix of people walking, talking, crying, moaning and screaming, all of it very far away and unreal.
Even through his semi-consciousness, he could guess easily enough that this was some sort of hospital. As he regained more of his strength and conscience, he could add pieces to the puzzle until it made more and more sense.

He still didn’t know how long it had been since he arrived, but he assumed that his healing process had advanced, since he could now stay fully awake. They must have cut down on the sedatives, which was a very good signal. Not only because it meant that his condition wasn’t so critical anymore, but also because now he was, maybe, going to be able to know where he was and what was going on.

He had found himself fully awake shortly before dawn that morning, for the first time in a long while. Of course, he didn’t let his care-takers see that the effects of the sedative had already worn off. This way, he would have a few more hours to try to gather information that might help him.

The day had passed fast and in a strange manner. Whenever there wasn’t anyone around, he tried to assess how much of his capacities he still had. He found himself able to sit up on his bunk and move his legs, although they were still terribly numb and painful from the lack of use. Every single muscle in his body ached and bandages covered a large section of his abdomen and chest, as well as his arms and part of his legs.

By the looks of the surroundings, he must be in a military hospital of some sort. The whole thing was mostly built of tents, with green fabric forming smaller spaces, probably individual rooms for the wounded, like the place he was in. It was clearly a makeshift installation, probably due to the sheer numbers of people they were having to treat at the same time. Maybe they didn’t have a proper hospital structure in normal times, and thus found themselves overrun, or perhaps the war had made more victims on their side than they had expected and they weren’t ready to cope with it. The thought brought a cynical smirk to Kanon's face. Considering how much the spectres seemed to underestimate the saints of Athena, this possibility wouldn’t have surprised him.

When he finished his survey of all that he could see of the corridor without attracting anyone's attention, Kanon turned around to finish examining the contents of his “room”, and his gaze caught on something that sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body: Much to his surprise, the Wyvern surplice was standing in a corner of the room, still damaged but now completely clean and polished, free of all the smudges and blood stains it was harbouring before.


A shiver ran through Kanon’s body. Fear? Maybe. If he had to fight Rhadamanthys in this condition, he wouldn’t stand a chance. But there was no sign of the spectre or his cosmo anywhere nearby.The armor was stern and solemn like a statue rather than the living thing it would be when worn by its owner.

The gold saint fell back against his mattress, blinded by the pain of the headache that assaulted him when he forced his tired mind too far, to try to remember the circumstances of the last moments of their flight up into the sky. He was still too tired to think too hard, and the very effort of trying to remember was painful.

A wave of panic rose suddenly from the bottom of his stomach when he heard voices approaching, much more distinct than the usual rumble of the other rooms and corridors. He barely had enough time to return to his usual position and cover himself with the bedsheets when he saw from the corner of his eye the door curtains lightly moving as two silhouettes stood by the entrance of the room.

His heart beats seemed so loud that he thought that the sound would give him away, but it was just an impression. It slowly calmed down, and he could focus on whatever chunks of the conversation he could catch. There were two voices. One had the harsh tones of a warrior, possibly an intermediate rank specter, while the other was more subdued, yet held a clear authority in it. A hospital worker, probably, but his voice had the strenght of a man who accepted no compromise no matter the reasons. Quite possibly a medic of some sort, for a nurse wouldn't have that same edge in the voice while facing a warrior, Kanon guessed.

The doctor seemed to be repeating himself to make his point. “I realize that you have waited since yesterday to see this patient, but I assure you that his condition is still too critical for him to receive any visits. In his state, he can’t even speak to answer your questions, much less escape, no matter who he is. If your suspicions are right and he isn’t lord Rhadamanthys, then he will still be here for your interrogation tomorrow, when we will have cut down on the sedatives enough for him to begin to regain consciousness!”

Suddenly, everything became clear in Kanon’s mind. The very last moments of their flight, and Rhadamanthys covering him with the Wyvern surplice! And then his fall. The spectres of lower rank in charge of collecting the wounded and taking them to the military hospitals probably never had the chance to meet someone as high-up as one of the Three Judges, and unable to recognize him by his face, they assumed that the man wearing the Wyvern armor must be Rhadamanthys.
But somehow, his cover was about to be blown soon, and the realization sent a multitude of thoughts racing through Kanon’s tired mind. He had to do something, and it had to be done quickly. The discussion in the corridor seemed to die off. The man that Kanon assumed was a doctor had probably verbally defeated his opponent, for the specter was leaving.

But right when Kanon thought that things would get calm for a second, the doctor pushed the curtain aside and entered the room. The ex-marina felt his sweat turn cold on his temple as he heard the doctor’s footsteps approach the bunk where he was laying still, feigning to be asleep or unconscious.
The man fumbled with something on the small table by the bed, and seemed to check on the IV bags connected to Kanon’s arm. In the moment the medic turned his back to the bed and leaned slightly forward to pick something up inside a box in the ground, Kanon threw the sheets off and lunged for him, effectively surprising the man and seizing him in a head lock.
The strain on his wounded body was such that Kanon almost fainted in the process, be it from the remaining sedatives in his blood, or from the pain that invaded all his muscles and drained his strength as suddenly as he moved. He didn’t let go of his hostage though, and after a short moment of struggle, the medic understood that wounded or not, Kanon’s grasp on his neck was perfectly tight.

“Help me to get out of this place or you die!!” – The gold saint whispered through gritted teeth, but the pain in his voice showed well, and he was breathing heavily from the effort, tiny beads of sweat spreading over his forehead. His sight was getting blurry, and he hoped that the medic would quickly collaborate, so that he wouldn’t have to waste even more energy.

Much to his dismay, the doctor remained as calm as his situation allowed him to, and spoke in a stern voice: “What would prevent me from screaming for help?”
Kanon tightened his grip and answered as convincingly as his ragged breath allowed him to.
“You’d die before you could even try!” – Anger mixed with a hint of shame at not succeeding as fast as he expected brought colors to Kanon’s face, otherwise pale from the blood loss.

“You may kill me now, and reveal your presence to the numerous guards nearby. Your cosmo will be sensed instantly, and in your state you won’t be able to defend yourself.”
Kanon wasn’t expecting the medic to put up any real resistance, and such determination in the words of a man who wasn’t even a warrior took him by surprise. His second of hesitation allowed the doctor to add: "I know you were awake. If you heard us talking in the corridor, you must have realized that I lied about your sedatives. They were cut yesterday night. Without that lie, you would be dead by now.”

“Why, if we’re enemies?!”

“Are we? I have never met you in a battlefield. Nor have I seen in person our lord Hades, or your goddess, Athena. But I put all my faith and dedication into what I do. I save lives. You were brought to me nearly dead. I don’t know what games fate was playing, but the surplice you were wearing granted you the access to the best material and services our makeshift hospital could afford. For everybody here, you were one of the three High Judges, a hero fallen while fighting for our god. But for me, you were just another wounded warrior. I saved you, just like I would have saved any soldier that would have been brought to my surgery room. It is not my concern who you give your allegiance to.” – Although the man's voice betrayed a hint of worry, it remained otherwise calm and under control through his short and decided sentences. He articulated slowly, probably trying to convey that calm to his agressor. Kanon’s grip loosened lightly while he listened, although he didn’t release him yet. He was taken aback by the man’s tirade, but had long ago learned that trusting too easily is a decisive path to your own destruction.

“How?! How did you know?! If everybody else believed I was Rhadamanthys, how did you find out who I was?!”

“Unlike most of the military doctors, I don’t work here by assignment, but because I volunteered. I used to have a clinic in the capital, and more than once, I went to watch the public judgements. We don’t have many distractions, in this world. But I am very good at remembering faces, and you most definitely are not lord Wyvern. I do not wish to know who you are though. Lowly bronze saint or elite of the Athenian forces, it doesn’t concern me, and this information would probably do me more harm than good.”

Kanon’s vision was getting more and more blurred, and the pearls of sweat were now all over his face, giving him a feverish look as he struggled to decide whether he should trust the medic or quickly snap his neck. He was now having so much trouble to stand that he was partially keeping his balance by leaning on his captive. His hesitation once again prompted the man to act, and he squeezed gently Kanon’s arm, snapping the gold saint off his reverie. - “We did a pretty good job on your wounds, but you’re not out of danger yet, and considering the impressive amount of blood that you lost, you wouldn’t stand a chance to escape if you had to fight in that state. Now, you could go ahead, kill me and then die or get captured while trying to escape. Or, you could release my neck, take a few blankets, that box full of bandages and some medication, and I’ll turn around and look that way for a moment. The next time they come, we’ll all be very surprised to find out that you escaped when the sedative worn off faster than we expected, while nobody was guarding you.”

Of all things, that was what Kanon least expected the medic to offer. For a moment, he almost thought he was dreaming. Still unsure, he loosened partially his grip before finally letting go, allowing the medic to turn and look at him. The look of disbelief in the ex-marina’s face made the doctor chuckle softly.
“Do not take this as anything personal towards you. I merely cannot stand that people would wish to destroy what I worked so hard to create. Surgery is a creation like any other, and handing you over to torture would destroy all my efforts. I would have done the same thing for any man, be him in our side or yours.” – The doctor explained with a smile that was in-between a reassuring one and an amused one, perhaps because of the surprise that Kanon’s couldn’t shrug from his face. The gold saint didn’t expect to find such an ideologist in a place like that.

But an occasion like that couldn’t be wasted, and Kanon was quick to nod in agreement and grab the items the medic had mentioned as well as his old clothes, that had been laying in a neatly folded pile by the surplice.

He looked back one last time, expecting to at least be able to signal his gratitude to the man before slipping out through the window on the less guarded side. But true to his word, the medic was standing with his back to him, apparently busying himself staring a point on the wall.

Wrapping himself as well as he could in a large blanket that he was going to turn into a cloak, Kanon held onto the box with the medication and bandages and stepped out into the darkness.

What expected him out there was a mystery, but whatever is was, it was better than certain death. He had always been a survivor, and as long as he could count on himself, he felt he would be fine. Maybe. Physically, at least. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to face being alive after he had planned not to live to see the end of this war, but there were things that he absolutely had to find out. Death could always wait another day or so before taking him away into her cold embrace.

He stumbled his way through the rocky landscape while constantly checking for guards and concealing himself in the shadows of the closest boulders, until the hospital was far behind him. The most strange sensation he had in years was poisoning his mind. The thought of dying, which used to be a solace during his many years of solitude, now felt like something repelling.

Could it be because a man had died to save his life? Certainly Rhadamanthys couldn’t have such an effect over him?!

Too tired to try to keep fighting his own uncertainties and fears, Kanon decided to just walk forward and let the new dawn wash away his doubts and worries for now.

Until some things were solved, it was better to focus on what he still had to do and forget about himself.


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[To Be Continued]
[Next Scene : The Parade of Shame.]

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