Fic: "The Hell Season" pt. 3 of 3 [2002, Chiu/Fung, PG-13]

[keiko-kirin.livejournal.com]

Author: Keiko Kirin
Title: The Hell Season
Fandom: 2002 (Hong Kong movie, 2001)
Pairing: Chiu [played by Nicholas Tse]/Fung [played by Stephen Fung]
Summary: Unusually dry weather hits Hong Kong, and its resident ghosts are suddenly quiet, but Chiu finds himself increasingly distracted by the mysterious 'Matron' -- and by his partner, Fung. Set after the movie.
Word count: pt. 1: 7900, pt. 2: 6800, pt. 3: 3300
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Long story! Contains spoilers for the movie.
URL for printer-friendly version: pteropus.com/keiko/misc/2002hs.html

The fires in the Tsong Tower were mostly contained. Chan, Chiu, and Fung got the all clear and left the roof through the stairwell. As they climbed down to the lobby, Chan told Fung about the little ghost girl.

"I'm trying to figure out how she got you here," Chiu said to Fung. "You said you couldn't see them."

Fung, on the stair in front of him, exchanged a look with Chan. Chan raised his eyebrows as if excusing himself from the conversation entirely.

"I followed you here," Fung said at last. "I was at the flat when you called. You told me to meet you at Tsong Tower. When I got here, you called again, saying you were on the roof." He hesitated. "You said you were going to jump."

Chiu stared at him. "What? I never called you. And I never-- You thought I'd really jump?"

Fung ignored this. "When I got to the roof, there you were, on the edge. You said you couldn't forgive yourself, and you got up on the ledge. By the time I got there, and saw it wasn't really you, it was too late and the ghosts had me. I had no idea it was the children. I thought it was some giant air demon I couldn't see."

It was too much to comprehend at once. "Forgive myself? And wait, if it wasn't me, who was it?"

Fung chewed on his lip, casting a worried glance at Chan, who was pretending not to listen. "Matron."

"Matron! Of course! We almost forgot about her." Chiu pushed past them and started taking the stairs two at a time. "We have to find her. She'll be up to something now that the kids are gone. She'll be furious. She'll--"

He stopped, looked back and saw Fung and Chan standing on a stair watching him. Incredibly, Fung said, "Forget about Matron. Please."

Fung. Of all people, Fung. The only one who'd listened to him, the only one who'd helped find out about her. Hell, the only other person who'd seen her. Chiu stared at him, not even seeing Chan anymore. Only Fung.

"Chiu," Fung said quietly. "Please. Let's just get out of here, okay? We can talk about it later."

Chiu's gaze didn't waver. All the relief, all the happiness he'd felt knowing Fung was alive, seemed to shrivel inside him, becoming something bitter and hard. Without a word he turned and continued down the stairs, his boots clanking loudly on the metal steps.

When they got outside and away from the smoke-filled, sour air, Chiu sank to the curb and sat down and ran his hands over his face. Fung sat down next to him, and Chiu almost edged away, but he was too tired and too weighed down by Fung's betrayal. He hung his head and closed his eyes.

He heard Fung say, "He's not going to listen to me. You tell him."

Chan's voice floated above Chiu's head. "I think it would be better if it came from you."

"Well, you're wrong about that," Fung snapped angrily, so rare coming from him that Chiu opened his eyes and looked at him. Fung looked away.

Chan stepped out into the road and stood in front of Chiu. "You want to find the Matron?" he asked.

Chiu nodded, suspicious.

Chan raised a finger and tapped his own forehead, then pointed at Chiu. "Look in a mirror." He flapped his coattails and walked off into the night.

Fung groaned and flopped back into the grass and said to the sky, "Thanks a lot. That was really helpful."

Chiu frowned at him. "What are you talking about? What did he mean?"

Fung sat up and sighed. He put one hand on his knee and rested his chin on his knuckles, not looking at Chiu. With his other hand he picked at the hem of his trousers.

"You heard what Paper Chan said about the ghost girl," he said slowly. "How she feeds off people's emotions. How she can force a person make his own demons."

Chiu watched his fingers plucking at stitches along the hem. "You're saying I created Matron. She was my demon."

Fung nodded without looking up.

"But that's--" Chiu stopped. He glanced around, half expecting to see the world full of madmen around him. "But you saw her, too. She was real."

"Of course she was," Fung said. He added after a pause, "Your fears and doubts and guilt are real."

"But..." Chiu trailed off, nausea twisting his gut. "No. She was real. You saw her, too. And she possessed me."

Fung looked at him sadly. "Didn't you ever notice about her?"

"Notice what?" Chiu asked, his mouth dry and tasting bitter smoke.

"The Matron we saw didn't look like the newspaper photo of the woman from the orphanage. She looked like you."

Chiu stared at him, and all the shock and worry and surprise and fear from the night rolled through him at once, leaving him weary and numb. He couldn't say anything, not when Fung stood and helped him up, not when Fung drove them home, not when Fung ushered him to the kitchen table and whipped up a late dinner for them both. He ate silently, tasting the delicious food, listening to Fung chatter about nothing, stupid talk about pastries and Betty's mother visiting from Giulin.

The numbness finally wore off while Fung was washing the dishes. Chiu took off his coat, work belt and boots, and joined him at the sink to dry the dishes.

"So, you're saying that I conjured up my own ghost, and it was a chick," he said, as if hours hadn't passed.

Fung grinned at him. "Embarrassing, huh?"

Chiu made a face and dried the last plate. "You tell anyone about it, and I'll take a picture of you on the toilet and post it on the Internet."

Fung waved this off, reaching into a cabinet for a plastic bucket and cleaning supplies. "The government won't allow you to post something like that. Besides, you know I won't tell anyone. Paper Chan knows already. I think he knew from the start."

"Of course," Chiu muttered, readily transferring his annoyance to Paper Chan. "He could've told me."

"No, think about it. The demon grows the worse you feel. If you knew Matron was something you created, you'd feel horrible about it, wouldn't you? Afraid of what you'd do. That would only make her stronger."

"What are you doing?" Chiu asked, watching Fung fill the bucket with water and haul it to the living area.

Fung tossed him a scrubbing brush. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of living in a room that says, 'I hate you'. The blood writing should come off now."

Chiu rolled up his sleeves. "Good point."

He followed him into the living area, where Fung had stopped and was staring at the wall, the color draining from his cheeks. Chiu glanced at the wall and winced. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that wasn't there when you here." He patted Fung's back reassuringly.

Fung took a breath and the color crept back into his cheeks. "No, it wasn't." He pushed up his sleeves and dipped his scrub brush into the water purposefully. Chiu sprayed cleaning solution over the writing, beginning with: Fung will die.

They scrubbed at the writing until it faded enough that a good coat of paint would eliminate any traces of it. It was hard, back-breaking work, but Chiu worked especially vigorously at the second message. He didn't want any shadow of it to remain.

When he paused to rub his wrists, he asked, "Why did the ghosts threaten you, though? They kept insinuating to me that you were doomed. And she wrote this."

Fung had taken a break and was sitting on the floor. He didn't answer immediately, but looked thoughtful. "Everything the ghost girl did was to make you doubt yourself, make you afraid," he said at last. Chiu thought about this as he scrubbed the wall again.

"It's okay," Fung told him. "You can't even read it now. We can paint over it tomorrow."

Chiu stepped back, and could still see more of the writing than he cared to -- the curve in Fung's name was clearly visible, if faint -- but his back, arms, and wrists ached. He tossed the brush into the bucket of bloody water and sat down on the floor. He watched Fung for a while, not sure what to say or how to say it. Fung was rubbing his fingers, working the cramps out.

"I told you that you didn't seem possessed that night," Fung said quietly. "I would have known if you had been."

"I don't remember it," Chiu said bleakly. He clenched his jaw and took a breath. "What happened?" he asked at last.

Fung stretched out and rested on his arms. He spoke softly, not looking at Chiu. "Not much, really. You came home and apologized. Told me what Danielle had said to you. You were upset, but I thought we should talk about it. So we sat on the bed and talked until you fell asleep."

A curious weight lifted from Chiu's chest, leaving both relief and an odd hollowness in its wake. "That doesn't sound so bad," he said tentatively.

"It wasn't," Fung said with a wistful smile. "You had your arm around me when you fell asleep..." he trailed off, flicked a glance at Chiu, and his smile faded.

Chiu raised an eyebrow. "You left out something, though, didn't you? Why were we naked?"

"I wasn't naked," Fung said blandly. "I was wearing my shorts, which you would've seen if you'd looked."

Chiu felt his cheeks go warm. He cleared his throat. "Still haven't answered my question."

Fung shrugged a little. "You stripped out of your clothes. You didn't say why. I thought maybe you were sleeping like that because of the weather."

Chiu didn't entirely buy this answer, but didn't entirely disbelieve it, either. He rubbed the back of his neck and stood up. Fung rose and took the cleaning supplies back to the kitchen. Chiu watched him, and took another look at the wall, considering painting it another color entirely. Maybe a new color would better hide the traces of writing.

Fung joined him and stood beside him. He rested a hand on Chiu's shoulder and said, "It'll be gone tomorrow. A bit of paint, and it's all over."

Chiu gave him a sidelong look. "That's all that happened that night?"

"Yeah, that's all," Fung said. He patted Chiu's shoulder. "Well, there was the kiss, but..."

"Kiss?" Chiu looked at him.

Fung smiled. "Yeah, but you were falling asleep. It wasn't much of a kiss."

Kiss. Chiu couldn't get his brain beyond this point. They'd kissed. He didn't even remember it. He stared at Fung. They'd kissed.

Fung lowered his gaze. "It's okay," he said. "It wasn't anything, really. No big deal."

They'd kissed, and he was never going to remember it. A sticky, ill heat gathered at the base of Chiu's spine and clawed its way up his back. Faintly dizzy, he touched his lips to Fung's for a brief, warm moment. His pulse caught and quickened.

"Was it like that?" he asked, voice unsteady.

Fung, eyes wide and wary, shook his head. Chiu licked his lips and kissed him again, a bit more pressure this time, a longer moment. The heat in his skin tickled from the inside out, made him shiver.

When he broke the kiss, Fung closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and licked his lips.

"Like that?" Chiu asked, and Fung shook his head again. Chiu's heart pounded. "Then what was it like?" He was both afraid of and eager for the answer.

Fung opened his eyes. He smiled a little sadly and kissed Chiu gently on the forehead. "You were falling asleep. You kissed me goodnight. That's all it was, truly."

The fear, anticipation, disappointment, and wonder threatened to spin him to the floor. Fung took hold of his arms, alarm in his eyes, and Chiu saw him through a kind of bleary haze. And then Fung kissed him. The dizziness evaporated, the haze was gone. Chiu wrapped his arms around him, a rush of soothing heat flooding him at the inviting softness of Fung's lips.

"What's that?" Fung said, lifting from the kiss.

"What's what?" Chiu, drunk on heat, kissed the side of his mouth.

"Wait. I hear..." Fung let go of him and took his wrist and went over to the slanting windows. "Yes!" He grinned at Chiu and opened one of the windows. Rain poured in over them.

Chiu looked at his grin, turned his face to the sky, and let the rain beat on his face. He started laughing. Fung pulled him close again, laughing with him. They stood under the open window and kissed and, laughing, kissed again in the rain.

-----

Chiu woke up on the floor in the living area, under an open window showing a cloudy morning sky. Fung was curled up beside him, asleep. Their clothes and skin were damp and steamy. The morning air was heavy, humid, promising more rain. Chiu smiled and lay on his side and watched Fung sleep.

Fung opened one eye. "If you tell me you were possessed last night, I'm going to hold you upside down out of the window until your wallet falls out and lands on some lucky person's head."

Chiu answered with a smug smile. "My wallet's in my coat." He touched Fung's chin and kissed him softly.

"No possession?"

"No possession."

"Good," Fung said, rolling onto his back and stretching. He reached for Chiu and Chiu slid easily into his arms, propping himself on Fung's chest. It rose and fell beneath him, living and breathing.

"But..." Chiu began, because he didn't like the uncertainty. "I still can't remember that night. Why? Why wouldn't I remember it?"

Fung blinked at him, frowning while he thought it over. "I don't know," he said at last.

Chiu laughed, giddy.

"What?" Fung said, raising up on his arms.

Chiu touched the tip of Fung's nose. "You don't have all the answers. I guess that's what I like about you, because I don't have the answers, either."

Fung grinned and pulled a lock of his hair. "Of course you don't, old-timer. Think we should start on the painting?"

Chiu yawned and stretched and said, "I suppose we should."

Fung bought paint while Chiu changed into old clothes and covered the floor with newspapers and towels he didn't mind throwing out. They spent the morning painting, and the repetitive task sent Chiu's thoughts back along other paths.

"Maybe," he said, "I don't want to remember because of Danielle."

Fung's paint roller slowed on the wall. "Sure," he said at last.

Chiu watched him. "Danielle said something to me that night I haven't been able to forget. She said I have one life for you and one life for her, and I don't live them together."

Fung dipped his roller into the paint. "You want to keep her separate from all this. I can understand." He concentrated on painting, his brow furrowed. "Ghosts and demons and everything. Danielle's a nice girl, and you don't want her mixed up with that."

"Well, she already has been," Chiu said, "but yeah, that's part of it. Her life is pretty and clean and safe. I like her life. I like her. But..." He hesitated, and Fung looked at him. "But I don't want to stay there. I like this life, too."

Fung eased the roller over the wall. "She could live in this life, you know," he said carefully. "I'm sure it's not easy working in a hospital. A lot of death, a lot of ghosts there. She's stronger than you think."

Chiu toyed with the roller in his hand. Paint spattered across his feet. "Yeah, I know. I'm just not sure I want her to live here, in this life. In my world. Our world."

Fung lowered his roller and gave him a quiet, serious look. "You don't have to decide that today."

"I know," Chiu said, grateful. He knew he wasn't ready for such a decision yet, but thought that perhaps one day he would be. He painted another section of wall, over the faint lines of the word 'you'. "But what about--" he started and stopped, thinking it was none of his business.

Fung stretched to paint over the highest lines. "What about what?"

"You don't seem very confused. What about Betty?" He focused on rolling the paint over the same spot and didn't look at Fung.

"Betty's a great girl," Fung said. "I like her." He paused and Chiu glanced over. Fung gave him a curious look. "Oh, you think I'm going to marry her?" he asked with a laugh of disbelief.

"Why not? She's a nice girl," Chiu said a little defensively. He didn't think it was that unlikely an idea. "The next love of your life, right?"

"No, it's not her," Fung said easily, half-smiling, giving Chiu a long look. Chiu felt heat on his cheeks, and couldn't decide if he wanted this moment to end immediately or last forever.

"How could I tell?" he muttered at last, pushing the roller over another stubborn spot on the wall. "All those dates, all those trips to the bakery."

Fung set his roller down and put his hands on his back and stretched. "You remember the first time we went to that bakery? We both had the moon cake, and you said it was the best sweet you'd ever tasted."

Chiu vaguely remembered it; what he remembered more was Fung flirting with Betty.

"That's when I decided," Fung said. "I already knew how to cook, but I didn't know how to make pastries. I wanted to learn so I could make you the same kind of sweet. I got Betty to teach me. But it's harder than it looks. I haven't gotten beyond making the filling yet."

Chiu stared at him and lowered his roller. Paint dripped on his toes and he set it in the paint tray. "You-- You did all of that? So you could make me a pastry?"

"Yeah." Fung smiled at him.

"You are such a girl," Chiu said, pointing at him.

Fung laughed. "Me? You're the one who made his own ghost a woman." He ducked as Chiu threw a towel at him. Chiu chased him to the kitchen. Fung volleyed a sponge at his head and scooted away, back into the living area. Chiu aimed a near-miss kick at him.

"Wait, wait," Fung said, laughing. He pointed at the floor. "Look."

There were white footprints all over the floor from Chiu's paint-spattered feet. He sighed and sank to the sofa. Fung sat down next to him and handed him a towel. Chiu wiped his feet, casting Fung a sharp look. "This is your fault. You're cleaning it up."

"I think it looks kind of cool. An abstract floor design."

Chiu pushed the towel at him and got paint on his shirt. Fung grimaced at him in mock rage, and Chiu laughed at him. They sprawled on the sofa and stared at the wall together.

"We didn't do very well, did we?" Fung said.

"At least it's covered up."

"I don't ever want to sleep in a room that says 'I hate you' again."

Chiu looked at him. "You won't have to. I promise."

Fung raised an eyebrow, but smiled softly at him. Chiu smiled back and felt like kissing him, so he did. And he thought, they could kiss like this everyday, for the rest of their lives if they wanted to.

"You," he said to Fung.

Fung grinned. "Are very annoying?"

Are alive, Chiu thought. "That, too," he said.

The end

Comments

[navigatorsghost.livejournal.com]

I'm not familiar with the fandom, but I read this out of curiosity and I really, really enjoyed it. I like the characterisations, the shifts between easiness and awkwardness as Fung and Chiu interact with each other; I like the plot, it's good and solid with enough mystery to keep the reader interested; and your descriptions of the various ghosts are really quite beautiful and in places very touching (the children-ghosts with the cakes spring to mind.) Lovely work. Thank you for posting this!

(I want to see the movie now...)

[keiko-kirin.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you! I'm so happy someone read it!! *g* The movie is a nice mix of serious and fun, it's slashy as can be, and the guys are very lovely together. I recommend it.

Thank you so much for reading the story & commenting! You've made my day!