Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Not Now, Not Ever ❯ Three Days in the Mountains ( Chapter 5 )

Disclaimer: Still don't own. Still not getting paid. Still having more fun than I should be allowed playing with the boys! This is a work of fanfiction and is not for profit.

 

Pairing: Aya/Yohji

 

Rating: NC-17 for language and future smut

 

A/N: Thanks to Marasmine for betaing. Thank you to KD, MM-chan, DP, PF, BB, and all the other members of AssAnon who are a constant source of infuriation, *ahem* I mean INSPIRATION! Thank you to those who have reviewed on MM.org and AFF.net, as well as those who've emailed feedback. It really helps!

 

`thoughts'

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Confusion was plain on Yohji's face when the Porsche pulled up to the cabin. Aya was smugly satisfied at already having Yohji off center. The longer he could keep him from figuring out what was afoot, the better. The moment Yohji began to feel like a captive, he'd start resisting and Aya desperately needed Yohji to be cooperative.

 

Someone came to the cabin once a month to run the taps, test the electricity and clean up a bit, so the place was immediately inhabitable. The caretaker had been in just last week and Manx would inform him not to resume his visits until instructed. There should be no interruptions. They kept extra linens on hand, but Aya had packed two spare sets, just in case. They'd have to go buy food in the morning, but there was always bottled water and some nonperishable items stocked.

 

“Get some sleep. I'll bring you up to speed in the morning,” Aya ordered gruffly. He avoided using language specific to missions, like “debrief,” etc. That way, when the shit hit the fan later on, he could claim that he'd never deliberately misled the other assassin; Yohji had just assumed it was a mission. He allowed himself a tiny smile at how the man would hate being trapped by semantics.

 

Narrowed green eyes looked at him keenly for a moment and Aya felt a split second of panic. It was way too early for his latest assignment to be getting suspicious. He cursed himself for never giving the man enough credit, for allowing himself to buy into the airhead routine that fooled so many others. Then, Yohji shook his head, seemingly to himself, and headed inside without a word. He deposited his coat on the rack just inside the door and Aya couldn't help but admire the view as the lanky blonde preceded him on the stairs. Further inspection proved somewhat less appealing, though. The once painted on pants were too loose and almost every rib was visible from the back. It was disconcerting, to say the very least. He sighed inwardly. `I really do have my work cut out for me.'

 

The Weiss field leader woke early the next morning, as was his wont. He'd been exhausted and had slept soundly. He felt rested and he was grateful for the gods knew he would need his strength. If there was one thing he would bet had not changed about Yohji, it would be his obstinate nature. The fool could be as stubborn as an angry mule in concrete and twice as hard to move when he set his mind to it. The fates were simply not that kind. His eyes gleaming in welcome of the challenge before him, he showered, dressed and headed out. It would be a minimum of two hours before Yohji woke, so he had time to get groceries now.

 

After returning from the store he prepared a western style breakfast with eggs, bacon, toast, and juice. He also made miso. As much as he enjoyed the western food, it just wasn't breakfast without miso. Anyway, if was going to put some weight back on his emaciated teammate, he may as well start now. He took the stairs two at a time and strode to Yohji's door. Two sharp raps. Nothing. Two more. Still no response. `Oh no, it is too early to start this already.' He tried the knob and, surprisingly, it turned easily. He stepped inside cautiously, not knowing what to expect. The bed was rumpled, but didn't look slept in. The duffel bag was in the chair, but didn't appear to have been opened. Yohji's shirt was on the floor, shoes were under the chair, but there was no Yohji. Then, Aya noticed that the sliding door to the balcony was ajar and approached. Yohji was leaning on the railing and staring into space. His face was completely blank. The absolute stillness chilled Aya and raised gooseflesh on his arms. It was just so unlike Yohji. Aya was beginning to be genuinely frightened for his friend.

 

“Yohji?” His voice was gentle, a little unsure. Ran had a powerful urge to just wrap his arms around the man and tell him that it was going to be all right. But, he feared he'd be met at best with rejection, at worst with violence. Aya was equally tempted to smack the moron in the head and tell him to snap the hell out of it. While debating the merits of the Ran vs. Aya approaches, he decided to try the Weiss leader tack again. “Kudoh!”

 

Yohji was clearly startled and then seemed ashamed at having been caught so completely off his guard. He wouldn't meet Aya's eyes, which was fast becoming the norm. Aya could already feel himself becoming frustrated. Where was the confident, sexy man he'd fallen for? ~Deep breath~ `You can do this Fujimiya. This is it. This is how you're going to find that balance. Yohji is going to need Aya's firm command, but Ran's gentle understanding to get through this. You can do this.' He repeated these things to himself. Over the coming weeks, the words would become a sort of mantra.

 

“Breakfast,” he finally bit out. Yohji seemed about to argue, perhaps to say that he wasn't hungry, but one look from Aya and he wisely held his tongue.

 

Yohji didn't eat much, mostly just moved the food around.

 

Aya noticed.

 

“I didn't prepare the food to decorate your plate.”

 

“What? Oh, it's great, Aya. Really, very good. Thank you. You shouldn't have though.” Yohji especially meant the last part. It was just a waste of time and food to cook for him since he didn't eat.

 

“Really? How would you know? Have you even tasted it?”

 

Yohji flushed and cursed Aya's shrewd observation skills for the hundredth time. That moving food around trick worked on everybody else! Honestly, trying to hide things from the man was an exercise in futility. Aya went on without really giving him a chance to answer. Yohji didn't mind.

 

“Kudoh, it's really quite simple. I like to cook, so I don't have a problem with preparing the meals, but you will eat what I put in front of you. It's sort of like that medication you didn't want to take the other night, remember?”

 

Yohji remembered Aya's threat and had no doubt that the bastard would follow through with it. He gave the redhead a smile that was really no more than the baring of teeth. Aya raised a brow in warning, then pointedly directed his gaze to the still full plate.

 

“But, Aya, it's cold now!” The blonde whined.

 

`That sounds more like Kudoh,' Aya thought with a small smile.

 

He turned to glare at Yohji, who finally capitulated with no small amount of fear in his eyes.

 

“We've really got to work on your people skills,” Yohji grumbled to his plate.

 

“Why? It worked didn't it?”

 

Yohji declined to answer around a mouthful of food and remained silent for the rest of the meal. Aya was inordinately happy at having drawn the blonde into a conversation. He was also grateful that Yohji was eating and though fear wouldn't have been his first choice, he was pleased to see something in his eyes besides that flat, dead look that had been haunting him for far too long.

 

As the days progressed, it became increasingly clear that Yohji did not want to be there. Aya wasn't taking it personally. In fact, it seemed to have little or nothing to do with him at all. They established a routine of light lunches and fuller dinners. Yohji ate. Aya started him off slow, small portions, a little of everything. He figured he'd get him used to eating in general, then start the push toward getting the weight back. As the days wore on, Yohji became more agitated. He kept walking around the grounds and the cabin. He looked like he was searching for something, prowling like a caged animal. He seemed paranoid. It grated on Aya's nerves, but Ran kept him in check.

 

Yohji had spoken very little since their arrival. Aya was no stranger to the quiet, but Yohji's silence was deafening. Ironically, that hush spoke volumes about his friend. The simple fact that he'd maintained it this long would have been miraculous a few months ago! Finally, in the evening of the third day, Yohji broke the silence of his own accord.

 

“How long do we have to stay here?”

 

`Hmm. Not `why are we here,' not `what are we doing.' Yep. Yohji definitely doesn't want to be here.' Aya was pleased to note that Yohji still hadn't asked why they were here. `He must still trust me, at least a little.'

 

“I don't know for certain. At least two weeks,” he answered truthfully.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because this is where we need to be.” Aya knew it wasn't really an answer, but it was the best he could do. He didn't want to lie to Yohji, but he wasn't ready to reveal himself yet either.

 

“Hn,” was Yohji's only reply. He knew it wasn't an answer too, but he also knew it was likely to be the best he'd get. He knew Aya would tell him when he was good and ready and not a moment before. `But, oh gods, I really do not want to be here! Too many ghosts. Too many memories.' But then, there was never really an escape, no matter where he went. He cursed himself a thousand kinds of fool for wanting Aya to comfort him. But at that moment, if Aya had wrapped his arms around him and told him that it was going to be all right, he would have believed him. At least for that moment.

 

But, the moment passed and for the time being, Yohji let the subject drop. Aya thought he seemed afraid to voice his real concerns. `Still giving nothing away, huh Kudoh? Hoarding your pain like it's all you have left.'

 

Wait a minute.

 

`Hoarding your pain like it's all you have left?'

 

The thought hit him like a thunderbolt. `He's clinging to the pain because it's the only thing grounding him, reminding him that he's alive. How long can a person hold up under that? If pain really is all you have, how long 'til you decide being alive isn't really worth it?'

 

Things were suddenly so much clearer. `He needs something else to tether to. Another reminder of his humanity, preferably one rooted in joy, not anguish.' Slowly, an idea began to form. `Yohji, we may both get what we want after all.' He needed to think about this. He needed to be sure.

 

“Kudoh, when was the last time you slept?” Aya asked suddenly. His voice was colored by concern and Yohji's heart leapt involuntarily to hear it.

 

“I don't know. Night before last maybe? Could have been last week. Not really sure, stopped keeping track.” He never liked lying to Aya and ever since the day that Aya had proven that he could see beyond the mask, he had stopped trying. Mostly.

 

“Go to bed. You need to sleep.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “please.”

 

Yohji couldn't tell Aya that sleep would never come to him in this place, but he didn't want to disappoint him either. He nodded and moved toward the stairs to pace his room and stare at the stars as he did every night. Aya gave his attention back to his book, but listened as Yohji's door closed. He didn't hear it lock and promised himself he'd look in on him later.

 

Yohji took a shower, the hot water helping to ease the tension he'd been holding in his back and shoulders since their arrival at Villa Weiss. His body and mind were both screaming for rest, but he was afraid to sleep. At least he couldn't dream while he was awake. He tried to protest his physiological demands, but it was losing battle. He avoided the balcony, not wanting to tempt fate, and slipped into the crisp sheets in nothing but his boxers. Yohji prayed fervently that sleep would find him swiftly and it did.

 

About two hours after Yohji went upstairs; Aya was startled from his reading by a sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Assassin reflexes kicking in, he was standing outside Yohji's door before he even registered his own movement. It was eerily quiet and Aya was set to believe he'd nodded off and dreamed the whole thing when it came again. He had Yohji's door open instantly and what he saw brought his heart to his throat.

 

Yohji was lying on the bed facing the door, the shaft of light from the hall illuminating his face. His features were twisted into a mask of pain, fear, rage, and immeasurable sadness. His body was twisted in the covers, each limb tangled almost to immobility. His eyes were open and wide with shock, though he was not awake. His face was wet with tears, some of which still pooled in the sparkling emerald orbs. It was more emotion than Aya had seen him express since . . .

 

`Oh gods! Since Neu. Of course! What the hell was I thinking to bring Yohji here, back to the place where the woman he thought he loved had tried to kill him! Back to the place where he started to realize she was gone from him!' It was then that Aya noticed Yohji's hands. They were scratching at his throat and neck, like he was trying to pull something off. There was no telling how long he'd been at it, but he'd torn a few deep gouges into his flesh that were bleeding onto his pillow.

 

Aya rushed to the bed. He started talking to Yohji, though in retrospect he couldn't remember what he said. He just tried to offer comfort, to remind him that it was a dream. To bring him back to the present with the sound of his voice, an anchor, a lifeline. As he spoke he moved around the bed, unraveling the mass of sheets and blankets from Yohji's long limbs. His palms tingled just to be in contact with the other man's flesh. Once free of his bonds, Yohji's body began to relax a little. The sound that had beckoned Aya, a cross between a scream and sob, was quieter now, but still coming intermittently. Without making any kind of conscious decision, Aya climbed onto the bed. He carded his hand through Yohji's hair and stroked cool fingers along his face, tracing the tear tracks, still talking. He rubbed his palms down Yohji's arms from shoulder to wrist, gently trying to keep the wire-calloused fingers away from the already bloodied neck. He could see the shiny scar around that bared column and ached to kiss the hurt away. He kept crooning, stroking, and petting until Yohji began to still and quiet. Then, in one quick movement, Yohji latched onto Aya. He wrapped both arms around the pale assassin's waist and laid his head in his lap. Fresh tears began to fall and Aya could hear him muttering apologies. For a moment, Aya was too shocked to continue his ministrations, but he recovered quickly and went back to soothing the older man. The vaguely comforting thought that this was progress was soon replaced by questions of where to go from here.

 

All too soon, Yohji was peeling himself away. Aya caught a glimpse of shame on his friend's face as he rolled away to face the opposite wall. He apologized again and tried to sink deeper into the covers. Aya was at a loss. He couldn't let Yohji pull away again. He knew, without a doubt that if he allowed this distance now, it would never be recovered. He moved off of the bed having come to a decision.

 

Yohji had to stifle a fresh sob as he felt Aya move away. He'd humiliated himself in front of the person he respected most. For one moment, with his head in Aya's lap, he'd laid his soul bare. Luckily, he'd pulled himself together enough to let his teammate go before Aya'd had to push him off. He didn't need to see the look on Aya's face to know how pathetic he was, so he'd kept his eyes closed. `I just hope he doesn't come back in a minute with his katana. Then again . . . maybe it wouldn't be such a bad way to go.'

 

Had Yohji looked, the compassion and concern he'd have seen would have floored him. Aya heard the hitch in Yohji's breathing and knew that he was still trying to stifle his sobs and that now he was crying because he believed he'd made a fool of himself in front of a man who already thought precious little of him. `Well, time to changes those misconceptions,' Aya thought as he moved to the door. He reached into the hall and killed the lights. He closed the door and moved back toward the bed, slowly as his eyes adjusted. He stripped off his socks, jeans, and tee, with an efficiency of movement that was pure Aya, leaving himself clad exactly as Yohji, in boxers only. He prayed silently to any god that would still hear him that this was not a mistake, and then climbed back onto the bed. He slipped under the covers and molded himself to Yohji's back. He felt the other stiffen and start to pull away, so he draped an arm around his torso, just below the ribs and pulled him back. He held him there, not so tight that he couldn't get away if he really wanted to, but tight enough to let him know that Aya wanted him to stay. And he did.