Aya waited just long enough to make sure that Aya-chan and Zeshin could make it back to the house under their own steam before taking off at a run. He didn’t hold out much hope of Kai saving Yohji’s life but he had to be sure, had to see the man that meant so much to him at least one last time.
Strange how his emotions, usually so sternly controlled, were able to escape and run amok whenever it came to the sensual and languorous Balinese.
He reached the house to find the porch clear, apart from Yohji’s blood. Kami-sama! So much of it! He didn’t pause, darting into the house and taking the wooden stairs two at a time. Seconds later he was in their room staring down at his pale but still breathing lover.
The wounds were gone, almost as if they’d never been, with not even a scar to show the passage of two normally lethal bullets and his eyes widened slightly. Kai must have a strong talent to be able to do that. But had Yohji lost too much blood?
Almost fearfully he knelt down by the bed, taking one of Yohji‘s cold hands into his own.
The chill hand twitched, fingers closing, holding, the grip weak, but there nonetheless.
Jade eyes opened, blinked at the fog filling them. He knew he wasn’t dead because he was too cold, and people in hell wouldn’t be cold, would they?
No, of course not.
Then he saw the deep red hair and knew.
Not Hell. His own fragment of Heaven, wrapped in solid muscle and bone, alabaster skin, and eyes bright as rare amethysts. Aya.
And Aya was doing something he never normally did. He was weeping, the tears running unheeded down his cheeks to drip off the edge of his chin and dampen the chamois of the duster coat.
The slight pressure on his hand made him look up and straight into those warm green eyes. Was he dreaming? He stared, not daring to believe.
Yohji reached up with a trembling hand to stroke his lover’s tear dampened face. “I’m sorry I let you down,” he said, then started to sit up. “I’ll help you find her.”
Like the time they’d gone to face Riot, Yohji wasn’t about to let a bullet hole stop him from helping.
Gently Aya pushed him back down again. “Idiot,” he said almost tenderly. “She’s safe, Yohji, and the bastard who shot you is dead.”
Yohji sighed, “I wasn’t much help was I?” he asked softly, gaze haunted in a way Aya hadn’t seen his on his lover’s face in weeks. He was remembering Maki another girl he couldn’t save. And he was remembering how he failed Asuka too.
“That’s not true,” Aya said. “If you hadn’t slowed him down he would have got away with it.” But he knew what was really on Yohji’s mind. Perhaps it was time to share some of his own regrets, to let Yohji know he wasn’t alone in his feelings of guilt.
“I wish I’d been able to save my parents instead of simply avenging them. Do you remember Ouka’s friend? The one who’s boyfriend led us to Takatori Masafumi? I wish I could have saved him, undone what was done to him. I wish I could have saved Sakura, too. But all I can do is kill, Yohji. I don’t have your compassion. I wish I did.”
The grip on Aya’s hand tightened a bit, Yohji remaining silent as he considered what he should say. “But I love you for who you are Aya. Not who you might have been, or who you will never ever be.”
Aya grimaced as he thought about the long dead Ran. But then, if he’d remained that naïve boy he would never have met Yohji at all. And Yohji loved Aya, not Ran. He snorted in wry amusement. “If wishes were fishes… “ He squeezed Yohji’s hand again, though gently.
“Give me a kiss. I want to be sure you’re real,” Yohji requested.
Aya leaned forward and pressed one of the gentlest kisses he’d ever given Yohji to the blonde’s lips. “I’m real enough, but you need to rest. You lost a lot of blood.”
Yohji just smiled and guided Aya’s hand down his body to show his lover that, while he might have lost some blood, there was still enough left to fill for a certain part of his body.
“I think I’ll live, if that’s any indication,” he quipped.
But Aya wasn’t smiling. Instead he frowned down at his lover. “You almost died on me, Yohji.” There was real fear in the accusation. “The bastard blew two fucking great holes in your chest! If it hadn’t been for Kai…” But he couldn’t actually voice what might have happened.
“I know,” Yohji replied, touching Aya’s face gently. “I remember what happened, I remember seeing you standing over me. There was a bright light behind you, almost like a halo.” He gave his lover a little smile, “Guess I was hallucinating, but I don’t remember being in any pain. You were there, so I knew I would be fine. You always come and save me, Aya. You always do. You can say it was Kai, but I know better.”
Aya snorted and shook his head in mock despair. “I’m not worthy of any halo’s, Yohji. I’m more likely to wear horns and a tail. And how could I not try to save you? We‘ve been through far too much for me to lose you now.”
“Hmm...” Yohji studied his lover. “I picture you with wings that match your hair. You know, dark red, but with some black thrown in to bring out the colour.” He laughed, “Yeah we’ve been through a lot of shit, haven’t we? And we haven’t run out of shit yet either. Not by a long shot.”
He sighed, “Why don’t you get in here with me? I’m cold.”
For once Aya didn’t argue or make any snide remarks about Yohji’s overactive libido. Instead he simply pulled off his clothes and climbed into the bed. Once there he settled himself around Yohji, trying to warm him with his own body heat as best he could.
Yohji sighed in contentment as Aya cuddled against him. He liked the feel of the other man in bed with him, liked the way Aya smelled of leather and man.
There was a knock at the door followed by Nagi floating a large pitcher of fresh lemonade and a glass in front of him. He brought it to rest on the nightstand before saying, “You need to drink a lot to help replace the blood you lost. That should help.” Then with one of his shy smiles he was gone again.
“I really like that kid,” Yohji commented.
“Yeah,” Aya agreed, his tone a little bitter. “Turned out better than our kid did. Better for Ken, too.” He sighed and closed his eyes remembering happier times at the Koneko and a teenager called Omi. “I feel like a parent asking the rhetorical ‘where did I go wrong’ question.”
“Omi was never ours,” Yohji replied softly. “We might have loved him, but,” he shrugged, “he was always very... pragmatic. He did whatever was needed, reinvented himself at need to fit the situation, and moved on. Any attachment he might have shown to us was part of the situational requirement. When he stopped being in that situation he stopped caring.”
Aya gazed at his lover, realising that he was speaking nothing but the truth. It was the rest of them that had taken ‘Omi’ at face value and were now paying the emotional price for doing so. It was time to change the subject.
“Drink some of that lemonade,” he said gruffly. “We don’t have the ability to give you blood transfusions and you need to get your strength back.”
“I’d rather have a beer,” Yohji stated, then he grinned. “Or some purple sausage.” He waggled his eyebrows comically and reached for his lover. “Come here.”
Aya pulled away. “Lemonade first,” he said. “Drink some of it and then we’ll see.”
“Oh, all right,” the blond relented. “You might want to do the pouring though. I don’t want to spill it.”
Aya sat up and poured a glass of the lemonade. He then helped Yohji into a semi-sitting position and even held the glass for him to drink from. For anyone who knew him well, sure signs of just how worried he had been.
The door opened and Crawford stepped into the room, “Touching,” he said as he pushed his glasses up, the lenses glinting brightly. “I take it our number one target is going to survive?” Of course he knew the answer to that question, but he wanted to hear it from Aya, more as reinforcement of the former Weiss’ belief in that fact than because he needed an answer.
“As long as he agrees to get his fluid intake up with something other than beer,” Aya replied gruffly. “And he doesn’t argue about it!”
Yohji stuck his tongue out at Aya before he started drinking the lemonade.
“He’ll do as he’s told,” the American said as he regarded the pair on the bed. While he held his emotions in check, seeing the two of them made him want things he knew might not come to pass, the crossroads in time causing too many possibilities for him to sort out.
Yohji turned a baleful glare on Brad, “Yes master,” he muttered before handing Aya the empty glass. “Between the two of you, I’m not going to have a moment’s peace.”
“You need to regain your strength, Kudoh. We can’t get back to our own time without you. And we can’t go back until we’ve had sufficient time to train together.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Aya could tell that Yohji was tiring, or perhaps he was simply irritated with Brad’s presence.
*Schuldig, you made a rather interesting remark about Kudoh earlier. Would you care to enlighten me regarding it?*
*He’s quite open to kissing me although the thought of a threesome with Farf seems to freak him right out.* There was amusement in the telepath’s mental voice. *You looking for distractions, vater?*
*Looking for something I haven’t had for a long time, Schuldig. I’m looking for a good time.*
“He’s not up to training right now,” Aya snapped. “If there was nothing else, Crawford, he needs to rest.” He moved as if to get out of the bed but Yohji grabbed his hand and he knew the blonde wouldn’t rest unless he was there.
“Calm yourself, Abyssinian. I wasn’t talking about this very instant.” He smirked, “So protective. Don’t let it cloud your judgment.”
Aya simply glared back at him. “You can get us to jump through your hoops later,” he said. “Right now I want some time alone with Yohji and to make sure he gets the rest he needs in order to survive and help me to get us all back to our own time.”
Crawford’s smirk didn’t waver in the least, “I know what you’re going to do, Aya. So don’t try and play me for a fool.” He turned and opened the door, “Have fun.”
The door shut softly behind him, but it didn’t do much to mute the man’s laughter.
“Smug bastard,” Aya muttered irritably. He turned to gaze at Yohji. “Have you finished with that lemonade?”
“That he is.” Yohji showed him the empty glass, “Done.”
Aya took the glass and placed it on the nightstand. “Good,” he said. “Lie back down, Yohji.” He helped the blonde to settle on his back again before leaning over him to kiss him tenderly.
Yohji put his arms around Aya and held him close, returning the kiss, the feeling of his lover’s body over him, the warmth of Aya’s skin was wonderful.
“You frightened me, you bastard,” Aya whispered against his lips. Then he moved away from Yohji’s mouth and moved down his chest, searching for any sign of the damage that two bullets should have done. There was none, not even a scar. Marvelling at Kai’s skill he bent and took one of Yohji’s nipples in his mouth.
Blood loss or not, Yohji went instantly hard, the blond groaning with the pleasure of what Aya was doing. He slid his hands down and gripped Aya’s ass, fingers massaging his lover’s butt.
“You going to fuck me, Aya?”
Aya smiled up at him as he moved to the other nipple. Having given it his attention, he pulled away and smiled again. “No,” he said. “You’re going to fuck me.”
Yohji blinked. Then a slow smile spread across his face, “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”
Aya nodded before his own smile died. “I know I haven’t treated you very well, with Zeshin and everything, but I do love you, Yotan. Whatever either of us may do, that will never change.”
He shifted position again and licked his way down Yohji’s long body, worshipping it with tongue and lips as he went.
Yohji shivered, and the chill gripping him had nothing to do with his recent brush with death. No, every goose bump and quiver was the direct result of the sensations that Aya was awakening in him. Lust. Love. Passion. Need.
He stroked his hands along his lover’s lean body, his touches worshipping the alabaster skin, the sleek muscle, the killer that he loved.
Aya reached Yohji’s erection and wrapped his hand around the base of it before engulfing the head in the warm cavern of his mouth. He licked and sucked at his treat, enjoying every gasp and moan he wrung out of his lover.
The flame ignited deep inside him and Yohji groaned louder, fighting the urge to thrust into Aya’s mouth.
He planned to do some thrusting, but it wasn’t Aya’s mouth he wanted to be in.
Letting Aya pleasure him for a few more moments, Yohji lay there, letting Aya hear his appreciation for what was being done to him.
Finally, Aya let him go and smirked up at him. “Do you have anything we can use?” he asked. The lack of modern lube was beginning to be a problem.
“Just that small can of lard,” he replied as he reached into the drawer of the nightstand. “Or we can use the whale oil, but I don’t like how that stuff smells.” He handed Aya the can of lard.
Aya grimaced slightly but opened the can and took a generous amount onto his fingers. He dumped the can and spread the lard between his fingers, warming and softening it. He straddled Yohji’s thighs and spread the now warm and pliant substance over his eager cock.
He moved forward and lowered himself, one hand grasping Yohji’s erection, until the head was pressing against his opening.
Yohji caressed Aya’s cheek, “You must love me an awful lot, Aya.” He rocked his hips slightly, nudging his cock against Aya’s waiting ass.
“Love and trust you.” He pressed down until the head of Yohji’s cock had slipped inside him and gasped. He’d forgotten how good this could feel. Slowly he impaled himself, savouring the feeling.
Yohji groaned, his love for Aya heating him with a warm, golden glow. His own personal sun filling his chest, his heart.
He gripped Aya’s hips to help his lover steady himself. “I trust you too, Aya. With my life, my heart and even my soul, I trust you.”
Aya sighed contentedly as much from Yohji’s words as from the intense pleasure he was feeling as that wonderful cock slid further and further in, filling and stretching him to the limit.
“Oh gods! Yohji!” he cried.
Yohji smiled, loving the sound of Aya’s passion roughened voice. “Like that do you?” he asked.
Not sure how long he’d be able to give Aya what he wanted-- what they both wanted really-- Yohji moved under his lover, his hands helping to guide Aya along the length of his stiff flesh.
“Mm, yes,” was all Aya could manage to say at that point. Now with Yohji fully seated within him he began to move slowly, up and down again. He shifted position slightly and was rewarded by a silken brush against his sweet spot that made him moan aloud. Why had he denied himself this pleasure for so long?
A faint blush coloured Aya’s cheeks. Pleasure lighting Aya’s face. Yohji’s breath caught, the way his lover looked, the soft cry of enjoyment sending a spike of pure lust through the blonde.
This was Aya. A cold, emotionless killer. And Aya was his.
Suddenly Yohji realized that Zeshin didn’t matter. The fact that Aya fucked the boy was totally immaterial. He didn’t love Zeshin. He was just using the boy to relieve tensions that Yohji couldn’t deal with. Aya’s need to dominate, to hurt his lover.
And if he could get over his own fears, his own reservations about their relationship, totally discard the last clinging shroud of his past, then maybe Aya wouldn’t need Zeshin for even that.
“Use me, Aya. Use me to make yourself feel good.” He considered it for a moment then added, “Do whatever you want to me. Anything. I’m ready now. I’m not afraid anymore.”
A shudder went through Aya at Yohji’s words. They were both overcoming their fears it seemed. Yohji was ready to submit and he was ready to let Yohji dominate. The irony wasn’t lost on him but more important was the overwhelming rush of joy that the realisation brought with it.
“Nor am I, Yohji,” he whispered. “You want to collar me, that’s fine. But for right now…”
He speeded his movements up a little, gasping as his sweet spot was stimulated again and again.
Yohji groaned as Aya’s heat, the tightness, the slick feel of the grease all combined into one white-light glow that spread through his body, the centre point a coil of burning heat low in his body.
“Yesss,” the blond hissed as he got closer, his breath harsh. He felt light-headed, dizzy, but damned if he’d mention it. Not now. Not when they were both rising on the spiral of sexual fulfilment.
Aya knew Yohji was too weak to keep this up for long and the sensations were so overwhelming anyway that he was soon close to completion. With one last cry of Yohji’s name, he spurted over his lover’s belly, whiting out as it all became too much for his overloaded senses to take anymore.
Feeling Aya’s body tense then release as he came took Yohji over the edge with his lover, his own come filling his lover’s insides, the blonde crying out the redhead’s name as he slid through the white-light flare of orgasm.
Just how he did it he wasn’t sure, but he caught Aya as the man went limp, guiding him to the mattress rather than letting him fall.
Turning onto his side he wrapped his arms around Aya, kissing his lover tenderly before his own eyes closed and he drifted into the embrace of a dim grey twilight.
Somewhere in that near darkness he could hear Crawford, or rather feel him as the Schwarz precog sat in silent misery in his office, holding in the frustration he felt.
He wanted Aya almost as desperately as Yohji himself did.
The knowledge almost brought the blonde up out of the dark hold of sleep, but his body’s exhaustion was stronger than the shock of the revelation. Yohji dropped into sleep, the mental impression of Crawford’s unhappiness burned into his mind.
Beside him, Aya stared out into inner space, still quaking at how close he had come to losing Yohji forever. He had no idea what he was going to do about either Zeshin or the lust he could feel pouring off Crawford from time to time, but he was sure that all that he now needed was lying asleep in his arms.
* * * * * * *
It was hard for Aya-chan to settle once she’d made certain that Zeshin had gone to see Kai about his wounded shoulder. The whole experience had unnerved her, seeing her brother and the others kill to protect her. It wasn’t squeamishness on her part but the desire to know what made her important enough for Yohji to almost die for, Zeshin to be so badly wounded for and the others to kill for. She could find no answers.
Cole watched the beautiful young woman as she fidgeted around the house, cleaning up but damned if he could see anything that needed cleaning. He figured she was doing it out of nervousness and he could hardly fault her for being a tad edgy, considering she’d been kidnapped that day.
She finally ran out of things to do and came to a halt by one of the windows, staring out into the late afternoon sunshine. She would have liked to talk to Ran or one of the others but they’d all vanished. She frowned out at the brightness, wondering if there had been any reason for her kidnap other than the obvious one of her being female.
Cole approached her warily, remembering all too clearly the way her brother had acted earlier. Right before the lovely woman had been grabbed.
“Miss Fujimeeah?” he asked softly, stumbling verbally over her last name.
She started at his voice but soon composed herself and turned to smile at him. “Randall-san” she acknowledged him. Strangely his presence made her feel more secure.
He looked down into her dark eyes, and lost the capacity to speak for a moment. Feeling like the greenest schoolboy found his tounge and said, “I.... umm... was wondring if… are you all right? That fool didn’t hurt you any, did he?”
Idiot, he probably roughed her up and scared the bejezuz out of her too.
A tentative smile formed on his mouth, sparkled in his dark eyes, “I suspect that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”
“He didn’t hurt me the way he hurt Yohji and Zeshin,” Aya said, “so I’m fine, really. It’s just…” She frowned.
“I spend so much of my time feeling like the village idiot, Randall-san.”
The man’s expression showed puzzlement, “I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Fujimeeah.”
“Would they really have killed not only that man but Everette and all his people just for me? It doesn’t make sense. I’m about as useful as a chocolate teapot yet they all guard me with their lives.”
Cole found himself glancing at the floor as he replied, “Beauty is a rare thing, Miss Fujimeeah. Around these parts it’s worth fighting and killing for.”
Aya’s eyes widened at his reply. Forgetting all about her conviction that there was more to the whole episode than met the eye, she concentrated on the here and now and the attractive man who seemed to think her pretty. She blushed rosily.
“Um… thank you, Randall-san.” She sounded so dumb!
She was so beautiful, and innocent. He could see that in her blushing face. Living with all these men, and yet.... he realized she belonged to none of them.
Exactly what possessed him at that instant Cole would never know, but he found himself taking the slim girl into his arms and leaning down to kiss her, in a tender melding of their lips.
He wanted her, wanted to protect her with a fierceness that shocked him to the very centre of his being, to his soul. As if he’d stepped from the drying heat of the desert into the blessed rain of spring.
She stiffened at first but then, realising this was exactly what she wanted, she tentatively returned his kiss. The majority of her late teens having been spent in a coma she was totally inexperienced in the art of kissing.
His arms tightened around the slight form in his arms, an upwelling of emotion, lust, possessiveness, determination warmed him, turned him fierce, his kiss becoming more sure, his heart racing.
Cole backed off, stunned at his own reaction to this charming creature.
“I ah...” he blushed and took a step farther away, “I’m sorry Miss Fujimeeah, I...” he shook his head as if to clear it, “don’t know what got into me.”
Didn’t he want her after all? Was she that repulsive, that inexperienced? She quelled the instinct to stamp her foot at the sheer stupidity of men instead turning away so he wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to form in her dark blue eyes.
“It’s okay,” she managed to stutter out. “I’m s…sorry t…too.” It was no use, the tears had started to flow.
Cole blinked, frowned. “What are you sorry for?” he asked softly, as he reached out and gripped her arm gently turning her around. “I was being too forward. A lady like you... Well you’re too good for the likes of me.”
He touched her cheek, wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry I made you cry, Miss Fujimeeah. I ain’t nothin’ but a no account drifter, but you... you’re a precious treasure, a pearl of beauty. You’ll get yourself a fine man, someone like that Mr. Crawford. He’s got it all, wealth, power, and he’s handsome too. Not like my ragged dirt-poor self.”
Then she did stamp her foot. “I don’t want Brad Crawford,” she snapped, “I want you!”
Cole took a startled step back. “What?”
There was so much he didn’t know, so much she felt unable to tell him, that she was a product of a different century to this one and, although well brought up, she wasn’t prepared to sit and pine rather than try for what she wanted.
“I… you need to talk to Brad or Schu or my brother,” she said, “but we are none of us quite what we appear to be.”
“I know that,” Cole replied. “Your friends are like me, Miss Fujimeeah. See, they don’t call me the Phantom Gun for no good reason.”
“I can make myself insubstantial. Like a ghost.” He was watching her, waiting for the usual reaction to what he’d just told her, but hoping that her contact with Crawford the precog and Schuldig the telepath would have inured her to such things.
She smiled, glad of his quick understanding. “Yes, all that,” she said, “but there’s more. We’re not from this time. My brother can… manipulate time or at least can move himself and us through it. Our own time is over a hundred years into the future.”
Now it was her turn to wait for his reaction to what probably seemed absurd.
Cole mulled over her words. It was outlandish, her claim of coming from the future, but, at the same time, he could just about take it as fact. The men, Crawford especially, had seemed different in ways he hadn’t been able to set a name on.
“A hundred years? I reckon that means you’ll be going back there then, but it doesn’t explain why you’d come here in the first place.”
If what she was saying was true, there must be some reason for them to come to this time.
“I still think you need to talk to Brad or my brother,” she said. “They could explain things better than I can. All I really know is that there is an organisation that recruits people with power, talent, whatever you want to call it, and twists them for its own evil purposes. We came here to escape that organisation and give my brother, Kai and Yohji time to train their own powers.”
Cole rubbed his chin, thinking things over. So they’re all like me then? Interesting, even if her story is a bit farfetched.
“Well I told Mr. Crawford I’d hire on with him. I’m not sure about this whole coming from the future business so I guess I should talk it over with him.”
He frowned, “What about you? Are these bad people you mentioned after you too?”
“They might have used me against my brother,” she said, “but I don’t know if I have any powers of my own. I haven’t really noticed anything.”
“Like that damned fool earlier today. I suspect he did what he did to get back at Crawford not realizing he’d have been better off walking barefoot into a den of rattlers.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, not too happy about her brother and his friends being likened to poisonous snakes. And that seemed to answer some of the questions she’d been asking herself. The why’s of her abduction. To get at Crawford made sense. Though just why she was so important that they’d risked their own lives for her… that question remained unanswered.
“I suspect Crawford and his boys must love you a lot the way they went tearing off to deal with that fella.”
He found himself at a loss for anything else to say.
At just that moment Farfarello came into the room, single amber eye regarding the pair. He smiled at Cole, but there was a hardness to the expression and the half blood saw a dangerous glint in the man’s gold eye.
“Is everything all right, Aya-chan?” Farfarello asked, his whole stance tense with menace.
Cole realized that the pale haired man was ready to take him on if the girl gave him the word and it chilled him as he came to the conclusion that the man would have done just that if he’d seen them kissing.
It was a sobering thought that he had to tread so cautiously, not only around her brother, but around the whole Crawford gang.
Aya turned towards Farfarello and smiled at him. “Yes, Farf, everything’s fine,” she said. “Randall-san has been looking after me and I’ve been trying to explain things to him. I don’t think I’ve been doing very well considering the disbelief he’s been showing.” She giggled. “No, actually, he’s borne up very well considering how far-fetched it all sounds.”
“Yeah, it would sound wild to anyone who heard it,” Farfarello agreed. He was still watching Cole with distrust.
“Holler if he does anything you don’t like,” the Berserker said then, after giving Cole a measuring stare, he turned and left the room.
Cole had faced down many a man in a fight, but for some reason he had the impression that the pale haired man with the single eye was not someone he ever wanted to tangle with.
Good as he was, and even allowing for his unusual ability, he didn’t think he’d come out of any such altercation unscathed.
He decided a total change of subject and a bit of distance was in order.
“Would you like some lemonade, Miss Fujimeeah?”
Aya-chan was having none of that, however. “Please, call me Aya-chan,” she said before grinning mischievously. “And you haven’t done anything I didn’t like.”
A dark eyebrow rose, then Cole gave the girl the most disarming and genuine smile of joy she’d ever seen.
“Why Miss Aya-chan, you’re going to lead me down the road of temptation with words like that.”
“Oh, I do hope so!”
For a few heartbeats the only thing the half breed gunslinger did was stand there looking at her.
Beautiful. And, from her words, willing.
“You serious about that, Miss Aya-chan?”
She gazed back at him, suddenly realising that she wasn’t dealing with a teenage boy and that she was completely serious.
“Yes,” she said simply, “only I’d better put Ran and the others straight first.”
He nodded, not believing for one second that her brother-- if that’s who she meant by Ran-- would condone them doing anything of the sort.
But a man could dream and hope, couldn’t he?
“Sure Miss Aya-chan. And if you change your mind, well I haven’t lost anything since you aren’t really mine.
“But it would please me mightily if you decided you wanted me to be your beau.”
* * * * * * *
If Farfarello had a tail it would have been lashing in frustrated rage, the one-eyed man seated on a bale of hay in the barn, the gleam of a well polished knife catching the dim light. He was cutting himself. Blood dripping to the straw floor.
Punishment he couldn’t feel. Angry at himself. Angry at the world.
Crawford had given him a duty, an order, and he’d blown it.
Such a simple thing.
Farfarello I want you to protect Aya-chan, and the Weiss from harm.
So simple and he’d botched it and badly.
Aya-chan grabbed, Kudoh shot.
He pressed the blade of his knife into the skin of his forearm, watched the blood flow. No pain. Only the cool sensation of the steel as it slid through his flesh.
Failure was something Brad never tolerated.
It was something that left a hard knot in Farfarello’s belly.
It reminded him of his old hatred.
Hatred of a God that had stolen his family from him.
The emotion poured off of him in an almost palpable wave.
He wanted to kill.
He wanted the Liar to pay.
The gold eye narrowed, and Farfarello rose to his feet, knowing where he could go, what he could do to get even.
There was a man he could kill.
Reverend Evans at the Church of the Lord.
Schuldig’s head came up and he frowned. Farf was in one of his nastier moods, blaming himself for the day’s fiasco and it was only a small step from there to blaming God for everything.
He should have been paying more attention to his dark lover but Everette’s telepath and his minor skill in thwarting them had left a nasty ’taste’ in his mind and he had wanted some time alone to get rid of the aftertaste.
*Farf? Where are you going?*
But there was no answer beyond the mental miasma of Berserker’s seething rage.
“Oh shit! Brad’s going to kill us…” *Farf! Talk to me for fuck’s sake!*
But Farfarello was past any rational discussion. He stalked out of the barn, headed for the one person that could make this better.
The Hand of the Liar.
If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.
*Brad! I think Farf is beyond pissed and will be heading for the church about now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop him on my own.*
The American set aside the journal he’d been writing the day’s events into and rose to his feet. *I’m on my way. See if you can at least prevent him from leaving the barn. Our new playmates don’t need to see him like this. Not when they’ve begun to finally trust him.*
Schuldig sighed and ran for the barn only to find Farfarello had already left and was halfway down the street. Cursing under his breath in three different languages he ran after his lover.
*He’s already left the barn, Vater. I’m going after him but I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.*
*Stall him. Get Nagi to come and help if you think you need him, but make sure he leaves Hidaka here. This is not something any one else needs to see.*
Brad was almost running as he left the house. Farfarello in one of these moods, loose in the town was a recipe for total disaster.
Farfarello paused as a man and woman stepped out of a home, golden eye studying them, looking for any sign that they too were servants of God. Children of the Liar.
The couple provided just enough of a distraction for Schuldig to catch up to his lover. “Farf?”
*Nagi, Farf’s having one of his ‘episodes.’ Leave Ken where he is and come help us!*
*On my way, Schu. Don’t worry.*
Farfarello stared at Schuldig. “The Liar has to pay for hurting us,” he stated, then he turned away from Schuldig and resumed his single-minded hunt for the man of God.
Schuldig braced himself, knowing what was likely to happen next, and grabbed Farfarello by the arm. He just hoped he could hold him long enough for the others to get there.
Farfarello grabbed Schuldig, his hands gripping the German’s arms so tightly that the telepath would have bruises. “Have you gone over to Him?”
“No, I’ve been sent by Crawford, not Him.” He knew he had to choose his words very carefully. One false move and bloodshed would ensue. “Brad wants you to come back to the house, Farf. He isn’t mad at you or disappointed in you.”
“I failed him. I failed. The Liar has to pay for this. He has to be punished for interfering in our lives.”
He shoved Schuldig and turned to walk away.
“FARFARELLO!” Crawford’s voice had the snap of a whip, and Schuldig could see the Irishman visibly flinch.
*Don’t make him angry, Farf, please. I hate it when you’re drugged up to the gills. Please, just come back with us.*
Farfarello was torn by his need to destroy the agent of the Liar, and his lover’s plea.
Crawford was striding toward them, his expression dark as an approaching storm. “Farfarello, go back to the house.”
For another few heartbeats the Irishman stood there, then he bolted, running from the man he’d failed.
Schuldig turned angry blue eyes on Crawford. *You told me that the events of today turned out for the best. He doesn’t know that! He’s still convinced he failed you. You going to put him straight?*
Nagi appeared further down the street and guided Farfarello back into the house, his talent ready if needed to restrain the Irishman.
Farfarello vainly struggled against his team mate’s power.
“Let me go. The Liar must pay. The Hand of God must die!”
The black rage turned to deepest despair, Farfarello going silent.
Instead of striking Schuldig as he might once have done, Crawford took him by the arm and led him back to the house.
“Take care of him, calm him down,” he ordered. “If he doesn’t snap out of this I’ll chain him. Understood? We can’t afford to let him vent his hate anymore. Not here, not when we get back to our own time.”
“So tell him that he hasn’t failed you! That’s what brings these moments on, or haven’t you worked that out yet? Shit!”
Crawford entered the house with Schuldig.
He looked at Berserker standing there under Nagi’s control, then he walked over to him, put a hand on Farfarello’s shoulder. “You failed me Farfarello. But I forgive you. Do you understand?”
Berserker looked up at the taller man’s face, “You... do?”
“Yes, I do.”
Berserker crumpled to his knees, wrapped his arms around Crawford’s legs and started to sob.
Nagi made his escape then and Schuldig gently disentangled Farfarello from Crawford’s legs.
“Come on, Farf, let’s grab some zees before the next catastrophe hits us.”
Berserker nodded, tears still trickling down his cheeks.
“You won’t chain me upside down? I.... wasn’t bad, was I?”
As often happened after one of his episodes Farfarello had reverted to an almost child-like behaviour.
He looked at his sliced up arm, “We better bandage this. Brad will be mad if I get blood on the furniture.”
Oh, Farf, why? But that thought was doubly shielded from anyone hearing it. “Yes,” he agreed, the kit’s in the kitchen. And nobody‘s going to chain you anyway up.”
He led the way and soon had Farf’s arm bandaged up. Then he took his lover by the hand and led him to their bedroom.
“Let’s get some rest,” he suggested.
Farfarello nodded and passively followed the German to their room.
“We should get a dog. I think Nagi would like it if we had a dog.”
Schuldig smiled. “Yeah, he would but until we can actually settle somewhere it wouldn’t be very fair on the dog, would it?”
He settled himself on the bed and patted the space beside him. “Come to bed, Farf, I want you near me right now.”
Farfarello shed his clothes and crawled into bed, reaching for Schuldig, pulling the German into his arms he lay down.
The door opened and Crawford entered, put a cup of tea down on the table and met Schuldig’s gaze. “Make sure he drinks it. He needs to sleep.”
The American was gone without waiting for Schuldig’s reply.
Schuldig sighed slightly. “You heard the man,” he said. “Drink your tea.”
Farfarello shook his head and kissed Schuldig instead. “I don’t like tea.” He yawned and relaxed. “Let’s go to sleep.”
Schuldig chuckled. “Sounds like a great idea to me,” he said. He shucked his own clothes and curled against his volatile lover.
The Irishman held his lover close, fingers stroking through the wild mane of hair. He was quickly drifting close to sleep, “Kudoh’s pretty. I think we should keep him.”
“Yeah, he’s almost as pretty as Aya and Zeshin are. Kai’s kinda cute too and Nagi thinks Hidaka is wonderful. Ah, what the hell, let’s keep them all!”
He knew he was making no sense at all, but it didn’t matter. Farf was back without drugs or punishment and life was good.
“You’re the most beautiful....” Farfarello sighed, his head pressed to Schuldig’s as he dropped off the edge of consciousness into sleep.
* * * * * * *
Ken studied the blades of the pair of bugnucks that the blacksmith had made for him. He’d always fought with a single one before, but the precog had insisted he learn to fight with a matched pair.
It still disturbed the former Weiss to follow Crawford’s orders, but he supposed he’d get used to it in time.
What he was having the most trouble getting used to was being happy for the first time since his career as a goalie had gone down the toilet.
“So how much longer do you think we’re going to be here?” he asked Nagi, wondering what he’d talked with Crawford about earlier.
That Schwarz still had their secrets was nothing that surprised him. And, as much as he loved Nagi, he still couldn’t fully place his trust in any of the rest of Schwarz.
Nagi glanced up from the trashy novel he’d been reading. “It all depends,” he said. “Yohji needs to regain enough strength to recommence his training. Aya is almost ready, as are you, and Kai seems to use his talent completely naturally and might be better left without specific training.”
He grinned. “Put another way, how long is a piece of string?”
Ken closed his hand on the bar that opened the bugnucks claws, “Depends on where you cut it.”
“Okay, Ken, what’s really wrong? Is it just that Yohji nearly got killed or something else that’s bothering you?”
The brunette shrugged and let the bugnucks blades click back into place. “I was just wondering how many of us are going to die when we face Rosenkreuz.”
“If you want to know our future you’d do better to ask Brad than me. Though he won’t challenge Rosenkreuz at all until he’s sure we’re all ready.”
Nagi put the book down and frowned at his lover. “We’re all in this together, Ken. It’s not Schwarz versus Weiss anymore.”
“I know that Nagi. I’m just...” he stared at the floor, “I guess I’m scared. We almost lost Yohji and that would have torn Aya apart.” He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, “I don’t want to lose them, Nagi, and Brad isn’t God, he’s not able to see everything, which is pretty damned obvious after today.”
“Today was unusual,” Nagi admitted, “but that was down to interference from Everette’s telepath. We all know that when we go up against Rosenkreuz, Brad might not be able to ‘see’ nor Schuldig to ‘hear’ as they were trained by the organisation. However, you were not anymore than Aya or Yohji, Kai or I were. That’s what gives us a chance. And if Brad is right about Cole… there’s not a lot we can’t do.”
Ken nodded, set aside the bugnucks and moved to kneel at Nagi’s feet, his arms going around the slender teen. “And you’re powerful. I think Crawford places a great deal of faith and trust in you. Doesn’t he?”
Nagi coloured up. “He did tell me earlier that he’s pleased with how I’ve turned out,” he said. “It’s probably hard for you to understand, as you’ve seen how Brad is when he’s your enemy, but he’s been like a father to me. The only father figure I’ve ever had or needed so his praise is like a father’s love.”
The brunet was silent for a while, his expression thoughtful. “He’s taken care of all of you, hasn’t he? Like he seems to be trying to take care of us too, in his way.”
“If it hadn’t been for Brad, I’d still be on the streets or in prison for letting my power run away from me and killing someone.” He looked away, apparently fighting back tears.
“I hated Mamoru because he forced me to kill for him. Brad has never done that because he knows the truth about me, that I accidentally killed my mother when I was five and had a temper tantrum. Without him I simply wouldn’t have survived.”
Strong fingers stroked his cheek gently. “Don’t let it tear you up like this, Nagi. You were a little kid, you didn’t know what you were doing, or anything about your power. It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah well... when he was Omi he told me he loved me. And we know how much of a lie that turned out to be.”
Nagi leaned into those caressing fingers. “I know you find it hard to trust us,” he said quietly, “we were your enemies for so long that it’s understandable. But can you honestly imagine Schu or Farf or even Brad betraying you the way he did?”
Ken thought about it, “I could picture Farfarello slipping a gear and stabbing me maybe, or Schuldig messing with my head as an amusing diversion,” Ken replied truthfully, “but, much as I hate to admit it, no. No I can’t. I think Brad might use us to get what he wants for himself, or for you, but... I don’t think he’d screw us the way that Takatori bastard did.”
“That’s where you underestimate us,” Nagi said. “Farf doesn’t kill his own. He’s never hurt any of us. Schu would only mess with your head if you hurt me or Farf and Brad might be using us all but it’s in order to keep us all safe, to get us all a life we can live without fear.”
“So I keep hearing, but...” Ken shook his head, “remember I spent two years getting my ass kicked by him. It’s hard to make the adjustment to thinking of him as an ally. And Schuldig... well he never really did anything to me.” Ken frowned, “You know I just realized it was Omi he went after. I wonder....” He met Nagi’s gaze, “Do you think he realized what Omi was like, that he had Mamoru Takatori lurking under the surface all that time?”
“Your ass kicked, yes, but he left you alive,“ Nagi said with a quick grin.
He was quiet for a moment, thinking back. “Schuldig is complex,” he said finally. “He seems devil-may-care on the surface but there’s a lot going on underneath. He knew who ‘Omi’ really was and even took him to Hirofumi to be beaten. He referred to Weiss as his prey but he only ever picked on Mamoru.”
“That whole business with Ouka, it was like he was trying to make the rest of you see what he saw, the corruption within. I really think he wanted the three of you to kill Mamoru. Farf only killed Ouka because she moved when he’d aimed at Mamoru.”
He glanced up, dark eyes apologetic. “That was when Brad and I had to tell Reiji about Weiss. If we hadn’t he’d have beaten Schu and Farf to death.”
Ken listened in silence. Listened to the story from the other side, hearing it for the first time. It put things into a whole new light.
“So they were trying to save us from the snake in our midst.”
“People always forget that Schu is empathic as well as telepathic. They really should remember it because it’s his empathy, or ‘how a mind tastes’ as he would put it, that makes him act. I’ve never asked him but I get the impression that Takatori Mamoru left as bad a taste in Schu’s mind as the rest of his family did.”
Ken nodded, his expression as bitter as his voice when he said, “Well Mamoru left a bad taste in my mind too.”
“I wanted to kill him too,” Nagi said, “but Brad wouldn’t let me. He’s the only person I’ve ever actively wanted to kill.”
“No, you’re right. I can’t ever see Brad doing anything like this to any of you.” He gave a harsh chuckle, but it wasn’t a sound that carried any humour. “We always thought of Schwarz as monsters and the truth is, the only monster was Takatori Mamoru.”
Nagi’s arms went round Ken’s neck. “Stop doing this to yourself, Ken,” he pleaded. “The only thing you were guilty of was trusting a very plausible and clever teenager. He had you all fooled, even the usually suspicious Aya.”
“Yeah, and that hurts too. I don’t think Aya or Yohji have fully gotten over this either. Maybe we never will. I mean, if Brad turned on you, how would you feel?”
“Like I’d been shot through the heart,” Nagi said without hesitation. “I know Brad isn’t always the most likable person but he’s not one to turn on his own. He knows you trust Aya and Yohji and that’s why he named Aya his second and Yohji and Schu his thirds in the chain of command.” The rest of Brad’s reasoning he kept to himself.
“Yeah, shot through the heart. Boy do I know that feeling.” Ken buried his face in Nagi’s hair, breathing in his lover’s scent. Once he’d done this with Omi. But Omi was no more, lost in the man he’d become, Takatori Mamoru, their enemy.
Ken pulled Nagi into his arms and held him tightly, desperately, wanting to believe, afraid of yet another lover that would lie, use him, hurt him, hiding his tears against the boy’s shoulder. “He promised me he’d never betray me either, Nagi. He swore he’d kill anyone that hurt me the way Kase did.”
Nagi had nothing to say to that but his hands had formed fists and his power was like the oppression of a gathering storm. Oh how he longed to unleash it on Takatori Mamoru and the dead Kase for what they had done to this honest man.
Scooping Nagi up in his arms, Ken carried him to their bed and lay him down, his mouth finding Nagi’s in a tender, loving kiss.
* * * * * * *
Kai had knocked several times on Brad’s door and, after receiving no answer, poked his head round it. The room was empty so he sat down on the bed and waited, the lotion he’d bought earlier weighing heavily in the pocket of his jeans.
He was so nervous he was shaking. Yes, Brad was damned attractive, yes, he knew he was gay and yes, Yohji was way off limits, but he hardly knew Crawford. The extent of their relationship had been his sleeping in the same room when the American had been ill and that little talk earlier.
He had no idea what to expect.
Crawford entered his bedroom carrying a tray on which rested some of the imported goods Algernon Porter had brought in from China. A delicately painted tea pot, matching cups and saucers, sugar bowl and creamer. There was also a tray of cookies he’d ordered from one of the ladies who offered baked goods as a way of making ends meet.
The man was neatly dressed, not a hair out of place. He placed the tray on the bedside table and offered a very faint smile to the boy. That Kai was terrified was very apparent to the man who’d made it a point to strike terror into the hearts of his enemies.
“If you want to back out of this, I won’t stop you,” he told the boy as he pushed up his glasses.
“No… it’s just…”
Crawford sat down on the bed, reached out and touched Kai’s cheek in a gentle caress, “You’re afraid. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice Kai.”
“Yes, I’m afraid, but it’s not of you as such…” Then it all came tumbling out. “We hardly even know each other and it’s my first time and I’d always thought that it would be different somehow.”
Crawford sighed and let his hand fall back into his lap. “I’m in love with someone I can’t have. So are you. We won’t ever have what we desire. You know that. I know that.
“I hoped we could make the best of a difficult and unhappy situation, but I imagine that’s just a vain hope.”
He picked up the tea pot, poured some into a cup. “Cream or sugar?” he asked.
“Neither, thank you,” Kai said. “So you knew about the stupid crush I had on Yohji? Dumb of me, wasn’t it?”
“Why would you think that your attraction to Kudoh was dumb? He’s a good looking man.” Brad handed the cup of steaming tea to Kai, “I’m in love with Aya. Not lust. Not a crush. Love. And I always knew that, in the end, I would have no real chance with him. None.
“So who’s the dumb one here? You or me?”
Kai sipped at his tea and relaxed a little. “You really love Aya? He doesn’t strike me as the easiest person in the world to be in love with. I mean, I know he’s beautiful and all but he’s so….” He shrugged as he searched for the right word then gave up and said, “cold.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. My mouth runs away with me when I’m nervous. And, yes, you do make me nervous.”
“I imagine I would make you nervous. But Aya does that to you too, doesn’t he?” Brad asked as he poured himself a cup of tea.
“And that cold demeanour is what I like about him. He stays cool and focused. Even when he thought Yohji might be dead he did what was needed. I respect and admire that. Those are the exact qualities that draws Kudoh to him. Unfortunately for me, Aya loves Kudoh. Oddly, I understand that too. Opposites attract. My main failing I suppose is that I’m too much like Fujimiya for him to have any attraction to me.”
Kai nodded. “Yes, I fully admit that he scares the hell out of me at times,” he said. He took another sip of his tea.
“You’re alike yet not alike if that makes any sense. I can’t imagine Aya going to all this trouble to rescue Schwarz if things had been the other way round. I can’t imagine him caring that much about the rest of us. Yohji and Ken, perhaps, and his sister, of course, but not the rest of us.”
“In that you are correct. But he also can’t see the future as I can. Don’t you think I would have killed all of them long ago if I hadn’t known that they were our salvation? The only people who could help us bring Rosenkruez down. I’ve known that from the start.
“I also knew what your ability was the first time I saw you, and that was before we even met face to face. I just didn’t know the full extent of your abilities. Of course, with Kudoh’s help, you’re much stronger than you would have been without it.”
“You mean he helped me to help him? Yeah, I guess that makes sense really. I’m just glad I’m of some use. When Kritiker made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” he smiled wanly at his own joke, “both they and I thought I was just a street punk with a very short life expectancy.”
“For a street punk you’re very well spoken and shy. In some ways you remind me of Nagi.”
“I actually came from a good family and I did quite well at school until I got in with a bad crowd and started running with the Yakuza. The only time I wasn’t shy was when I lost my temper or was fighting.”
Brad nodded, took a sip of his tea and sat watching Kai in silence. He was an attractive boy. Young man really. But he lacked the chill untouchable expression of Aya.
Aya. Unattainable beautiful Aya. The man might as well have been on the moon for all the good it would do him to continue longing for what he couldn’t have.
And that was the whole point of him bringing Kai into his room. He needed someone to keep him from doing something that he would regret. Something that would result in all of them dying.
And Kai, pretty, young and fragile Kai was the only one around. The only one as lonely as he was.
“You’re gay, but you’ve never been with a man. I’m gay and I haven’t been with anyone in...” Brad sighed, “a very long time.”
Kai bent his head, concentrating on his tea to hide his confusion. Then, instead of worrying what Brad had said about him he thought about what he had said about himself. “Was it lack of opportunity?” he asked.
“I was the leader of Schwarz, part of Esset. Sex was a distraction, a loss of focus to them. To keep my place I became a veritable monk, channelling my energies as needed. My goal has been achieved, at least in part. Esset and the Elders are dead. We’re free. I’m free.”
Kai placed his empty teacup down on the bedside table. He wanted to throw his arms around Brad, to comfort him for what he’d had to give up but he just knew that wouldn’t be appropriate, wouldn’t be the right thing to do. So what could he do? What was there to say?
He smiled suddenly. “So now you want some fun for yourself?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lotion, handing it to Brad with a flush of colour on his cheeks.
Brad put his own cup down, reached out and pulled the teen into his lap, setting his mouth against Kai’s in a kiss that was anything but tentative.
Kai’s arms went round Brad’s neck of their own volition and he returned the kiss, hoping he was doing it right.
Arms tightening around Kai, Crawford turned to lay the boy down, keeping his weight off the boy as he deepened the kiss.
It wasn’t Aya, no, but it was still good to be kissing another man. A man that kissed him back.
Kai almost panicked as he felt himself swung onto the bed. Then he relaxed again and concentrated on the kiss. The kiss that he was enjoying far too much.
Brad broke the kiss, stared into Kai’s eyes. He sat up, took off his glasses, removed the coat of his suit and set it aside.
He turned to Kai, offered the boy a faint ghost of a smile, then lay down beside him. He said nothing, took Kai into his arms and kissed him again.
Kai had thought he would be fantasising about Yohji as he returned the kiss, but he found that wasn’t the case and his senses were filled with the feel, taste and smell of Brad Crawford. There was no taste of burnt tobacco on his tongue, instead a freshness mixed with the taste of the tea.
The cologne that Crawford wore, musky with an underlying hint of sandalwood and spice wove a dizzying spell in his brain and he tried, almost impossibly, to get closer to the man.
Crawford closed his eyes. He wanted this. Yes. But he wanted it with someone he could surrender to. Someone with whom he could relinquish all control. Someone that he could submit to, and not feel like a fool.
And Kai, sweet, pretty Kai wasn’t that man.
No, for that he wanted a cold killer like himself. A man with an icy violet stare and a face like a mask of porcelain.
Brad shuddered, flickering images filling his head with light and sound and he clung to Kai as another vision exploded in his mind.
In another room, Schuldig started awake. *Vater?* He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Farfarello and pulled on a pair of sweatpants before leaving his room and padding down the landing to Brad’s room.
He knocked softly and Kai’s concerned voice answered. “Come in.”
He opened the door to find the Japanese boy half-buried under Brad’s weight. The American was gripping him as if he was the only anchor to reality that he still had.
Brad’s face was ashen, eyes wide and staring, seeing things in futures as yet unborn, possibilities unrealized, the pitfalls and mines of dangers looming on the horizon.
Schuldig could feel the images trying to bombard his own mind with their sheer intensity and he strengthened his shields as he crossed the room using his telepathic speed. For all his healing energy, Kai didn’t know what to do while he did.
He gently prized Brad’s fingers off the boy’s clothing and turned him onto his back. *Brad, come back.*
Crawford’s hands flailed, reaching blindly. Fingers closed on Schuldig’s arm, held then let go, searching, seeking the sanctuary of another power, another mind and body. Another heart.
Kai raised himself on one elbow and reached out the other hand to touch Crawford’s face. There were tears in his eyes but he ignored them as he stroked the older man’s cheek. He knew it wasn’t his hand the American wanted touching him but he felt compelled to do it just the same.
The soothing touch of the healer’s hand was like a breath of fresh air to a drowning man and Crawford’s hands closed around the boy’s slim body and drew him close.
For a few moments Crawford stayed as he was, Schuldig on one side of him, the boy in his arms. His breathing was ragged, heart racing as if he’d just finished running a marathon.
The rapid flood of images into his mind slowed, stopped leaving him feeling light headed and drained. He reached one hand out, touched Schuldig’s face, offered the telepath a smirk.
“Now this is a nice change. Two handsome men in my bed, and a bottle of hand lotion right at my fingertips. How lucky can a man get?”
Schuldig smirked back at him. “I’m only here because you were having a real humdinger of a vision and it woke me. Anything I should know about or can I go back to my own bed?”
Brad's smirk faded so suddenly it was as if a switch had been thrown. His dark eyes suddenly took on a haunted look, but in an instant that too was gone. "Nothing important. Go back to bed," the American said, his voice flat and a little harsh.
The walls in his mind went up with a snap that felt like a razor blade formed of ice across the telepath's mind. That he was hiding something was all too evident to the German, but exactly what it was only Crawford himself knew.
For a moment longer he held onto Kai, then he let the biokinetic go.
Schuldig exchanged a look with Kai who’s expression was as worried as he felt his own must be.
“Are you sure? If there’s anything I can do…”
“Or I…” Kai added.
Brad just shook his head. "I'm tired," he told them, and Schuldig knew it meant their leader wanted to be alone.
“Come on Kai, let Vater get his beauty sleep,” he said to the obviously reluctant Japanese boy.
Kai bit his lip but did climb off the bed, head bowed, gazing at the floor.
*It’s not that he doesn’t want you. He just needs space to sort through the visions he’s just received.* And judging by that haunted look in his eyes, they hadn’t boded well for any of them.
Brad noted the distraught teen and forced a smile, one that failed to reach his deadly cold gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong, Kai. You'll find someone. It just won't be me."
Having said that Crawford started to undress, trying to hide the shaking of his hands.
And Kai didn’t believe either of them. He was really sorry that he couldn’t be Aya fucking Fujimiya. But to ask him here then tell him to leave in front of Schuldig…
“You insufferable bastard,” he said quietly. Then his voice rose. “Why the hell did you bother asking me to come here if it was just to humiliate me? Damn right it won’t be you!”
He pushed past Schuldig and ran, tears of anger blinding him. At least he thought they were tears of anger.
“Phew!” Schuldig said. “You didn’t handle that with your usual diplomacy.”
"Get out, Schuldig. Just get out. I need to think, and your yapping is annoying me."
It would be best if he managed to alienate them, to put a wedge between himself and everyone else before it happened. It would be less painful to them. At least he hoped it would be.
Standing there, he could feel the impact of the bullet, the awful pain and the fear of knowing he was going to die. But there was also the satisfaction of knowing he wouldn't die in vain.
In the end Aya would live, the rest of them would live, and that's all that mattered. That's all that he cared about. Aya would live. Nagi would live. His only love. His only son. With them alive the others had hope. They would live. They would all live.
But the images in his head told him that wasn't completely true. Not all of them would survive.
One other would die, but he didn't know if it was Singapura or Siberian because he would be the first one dead and all visions ended with the darkness that claimed him.