Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ By the Book ❯ That's all there is to say ( Chapter 2 )

See previous chapter for warnings and other nonsense.

A/N: So this is a bit more AU than I planned, but it's rather explainable. It follows most of the events of the animated version of Weiß Kreuz…just that the team finds out about Aya-chan and Schwarz sooner, and everything can be assumed to occur the same - without Ken. He's…ur…absent. For the timeline I'm using, there's no OOC. That's something. Just go with it.

Aya pulled silently into the garage, idly noting the Seven was already parked there, and probably had been for some time.

Youji jumped to his feet as soon as Aya entered the house, eyes darting behind his sunglasses.

"Aya! Where the hell is Ken!"

Aya just stared, then moved to go upstairs.

"Aya!"

"I don't know," he growled and disappeared into his room.

Youji fumed. It was one thing to be cold and silent, but to not look after a teammate and, worse, not seem to care what happened to him went beyond the bounds of Youji's tolerance. He was ready to follow Aya and beat him into answering.

"Youji-kun!"

Youji turned back to find Omi seated at the counter staring raptly at the television. The light from the screen illuminated the boy's face red and orange.

A cold anxiety took hold in Youji's chest as he crossed the kitchen in long strides and found his disbelieving stare also fixed on the flashing image.

Firefighters were vainly trying to extinguish the conflagration that had suddenly overtaken a large office building on the outskirts of Tokyo. Youji's mind was rapidly denying every word even as the reporter began to describe the extent of the destruction.

"It is believed there was nobody in the building at the time…"

Youji was screaming inside for it to be true, but he knew there was no way the reporters could expect a young assassin to have been stalking through the deserted hallways that night. And if he was in there when the building exploded - if he was still there - there was no way he was still alive.

Omi started when Youji's fist slammed into the counter next to him, but he didn't turn to look as Youji stormed out of the kitchen and upstairs.

"Aya! Open the damned door!" Youji bellowed, slamming his fist against the wood in a violent parody of knocking. "What the hell happened out there! Open up, you bastard!"

The door suddenly vanished from beneath Youji's hand and he found himself staring into Aya's stormy violet eyes. For a moment, Youji almost thought he looked remorseful.

"I don't know what happened, Youji," he said flatly, as though every word was being wrenched out of him. "Schwarz was there. I was unconscious."

Youji stared incredulously at the redhead, wondering if he had truly just heard an admission of failure from his younger teammate. Despite Aya's dangerous expression, though, he felt the need to press further.

"And the target?"

"I don't know."

Aya's answer was brief, but it spoke volumes. Months of living with the icy assassin forced a person to become an expert in reading body language and reading between the lines. Aya had lost control of the situation, and he was embarrassed.

"So Ken's…" Youji couldn't find it in himself to finish the question, but Aya was just as good at understanding the silence as he was at implementing it.

"Probably."

"What happens now?"

"We wait for Manx."

As always, Youji found himself thankful for Aya's confidence in the face of disaster, though he dimly realized that even Aya's posturing wouldn't help ease the loss of a friend.

"I'm going to go talk to Omi," Youji all but whispered, knowing his tone would tell Aya exactly what the topic of the conversation would be. "Do you need anything?"

"No," came the standard reply. And then, "Not now."

Youji smiled bleakly and went downstairs.

Schuldig leaned back in his chair, balancing two legs on the ground. The effort of remaining upright was a meager but welcome diversion from the boredom that was threatening to drive him insane more quickly than the cacophony of voices in his head surely would.

The room was a makeshift hospital. Schuldig had only entered it once before after a particularly nasty gunshot wound, but he otherwise avoided it entirely. The walls were clinically white, almost painfully bright with the sun shining in the tall, curtainless windows. The Weiß assassin was carefully arranged in a large bed, hooked to an IV and heart monitor that was thankfully noiseless, while Schuldig was given a worn cot and a hard wooden chair to sit in as he guarded the sleeping boy. He had been out cold for eight days. For the first two Schuldig had amused himself by listening in on the brunet's jumbled thoughts, but they became more and more miserably fragmented with every passing hour until it only served to give him a massive headache. He had tried to find another source of amusement - hell, any source of amusement - in the room, but even his most pathetic desire went unfulfilled. The windows were bolted against outside noises and he all too quickly tired of singing and humming. There weren't any decorations for him to inspect nor patterns in the floor or paint for him to trace with his eyes. Nothing.

And he wasn't allowed to leave the room to seek other distractions.

Since bringing the kitten back to the house was Schuldig's idea, Crawford had judiciously decided it would be he who watched him until he woke up, as well. In an attempt to retain some pride and keep Crawford from lording over him any more than necessary, he ordered the other Schwarz members out of the house, insisting that he would in no way be locked in a room with nothing to do but listen to their inane thoughts.

Schuldig briefly considered going out to look for a deck of cards, but it would be just his luck if the Weiß boy woke up while he was gone and escaped. In fact, Crawford was probably planning on it. Knowing the smug bastard, he allowed Schuldig to kick him out of the house because he'd had some vision of the redhead letting the enemy sneak out during a moment of incompetence that would be severely punished later on.

He was almost beginning to regret his decision to bring the enemy assassin back to the house. It had been over a week since he had gone out to terrorize the good people of Japan, visit the clubs, or just get laid. He knew someone with less will power than himself might have gone stir crazy already, but even that empowering thought was of small comfort. Not for the first time Schuldig considered just killing the kitten and ending his torment.

But even Brad had admitted his plan was a good one. They had in their possession the least convicted of all the Weiß assassins, the one most likely to join them if they were so kind as to save his life and nurse him back to health. Schuldig almost giggled aloud when he thought of the remaining three killers finding out the quiet brunet had turned on them. And, if he couldn't be convinced to switch sides, it would be easy enough to kill him, weakened and outnumbered in the Schwarz house. Either way they would be pruning the opposition, but the prospect of some mental and emotional torture just served to sweeten the deal for the telepath.

Said telepath was standing up to stretch his legs when he caught the first flash of active mental noise from the unconscious boy. Schuldig regarded him with a smirk and dragged his chair to the bedside, wanting to be close enough to slit the young assassin's throat if he should prove unmanageable. No sense wasting any more time with an unwilling plaything.

Schuldig arranged himself carefully on his chair, resting his elbows on raised knees and chin upon his hands, attempting to look pleasant if not friendly. He had to force himself not to smirk at the brunet's tumultuous thoughts as he struggled to gain consciousness. He reeled between confusion and fear so chaotically his head whipped back and forth upon the pillow.

Finally the Weiß assassin managed to crack one eye open, grimacing at the brightness of the room. Schuldig waited with a patience born of mischief as his patient slowly began to pull the room around him into focus. After staring at him for some time, moving his lips dryly, Schuldig realized the young man needed water and hurriedly passed him the glass from the bedstand. The brunet continued to stare as he cautiously sipped the water, and Schuldig was mildly bemused by the lack of recognition in his eyes.

The glass was passed back to him and the boy licked his lips several times before speaking.

"Who are you?"

Schuldig didn't need to feign shock at the question. He was sure it was written clearly on his face. He quickly sifted through the younger man's thoughts and found…a whole lot of nothing: Where am I? Who am I? What happened? Why doesn't he answer?

A new plan began rapidly congealing in Schuldig's mind. If the Weiß assassin didn't know he was either Weiß or an assassin, it wouldn't take much to convince him to side with Schwarz. In fact, with a careful play of sincerity, it wouldn't take much to convince him of anything. It took all his willpower to suppress a smirk.

Instead, Schuldig turned worried eyes on the confused brunet. "You…you don't remember me?" He mentally congratulated himself at the pain he could hear in his voice, and again at the guilt plainly expressed on the other man's features.

"I'm sorry," he stammered pitifully. "I don't know. I…Who am I?"

He looked close to tears and his battered frame was heaving with panic. Schuldig gave him his best reassuring smile.

"I'm Schuldig," he said, doing his best to sound somber despite the glee that was tingling throughout his body, "and you…your name is Matze."

The boy nodded shakily as he absorbed the small bit of information and was obviously trying to force himself to relax. Schuldig took the opportunity to gently force him to lie down again.

"You need rest now, Matze. We can talk when you're feeling better."

Strangely without protest, the young brunet closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep. Schuldig was glad for it: he needed time to work out the details of his plan and explain it to the others.

Youji and Aya were preparing to open the flower shop for the first time in a week. After the shock of the news report had set in, the three remaining assassins had come to an unspoken agreement that they needed time to be alone and think.

With each passing day there was less and less reason to hold onto hope that Ken was still alive somewhere. It was the risk of being an assassin, after all. They all knew the danger when they agreed to go on an assignment. They had all given up their lives long ago.

Still, Youji reflected, it wasn't making it easier to deal with. Omi had watched the office building blaze on every station until the coverage stopped, and hadn't left his room since. Even Aya seemed to be taking the loss personally, brooding in his room and only appearing when he made his now daily visits to his sister.

Youji had tried to maintain at least a small degree of normalcy, seeking out a bottle and a body to keep himself from collapsing with the wrongness of it all. It wouldn't have been so bad if he or Aya had been lost. They were cut out for the work, they could handle it. Ken and Omi were different. Despite the murdering and vigilante justice, they had someone remained almost childishly innocent. For Ken to be the one sacrificed to the madness they were involved in…it was just wrong.

A shrill feminine voice shook Youji from his musings, and he was surprised to find Manx standing next to him.

"Don't bother opening shop today, boys. We have to talk."

Aya led them to the basement, turning to glare at Youji at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, I'll get him," Youji sighed.

Five minutes later the three remaining members of Weiß were seated in the briefing room. They were all tense, Omi leaning against Youji with his arms around his knees and Aya watching Manx with dangerous eyes.

"You know why I'm here," she began, leafing through a thin manila folder. "Siberian is gone. No traces of his body were found, but the remains of his weapon were discovered within the office building that burned to the ground last week."

Omi gasped and buried his face in Youji's shoulder. Youji himself bit his lip and put an arm around the young boy. It seemed they weren't to be given any reason to continue hoping.

"He has been gone for eight days. For your safety, as well as that of the organization, Ken Hidaka no longer exists in any form. This folder gives information for anyone who becomes curious," she handed the thin folder to Aya. "For your purposes, Ken has traveled to America to be with his ailing aunt. The phone number there will reroute to headquarters where someone will play the role of Ken's aunt and handle security. You three will do nothing to contradict that story, or you may be compromised as well."

The last was delivered with a distinct seriousness, but Manx's face showed her sympathy for the boys.

"That's all there is to say," she said, and stopped at the first stair. "I'm sorry."

Ken: My name's `Matze' now? What the hell kind of name is that?

TT: I knew a guy named Matze once. He was a right bastard. But Ken's not. Ken is a good Matze.

Aya: Ken is gone. He went to visit a sick aunt and isn't coming back.

TT: Oh, shut up. We both know where Ken is.

Omi: No, Ken is away in the States. He's planning to stay there.

TT: Enough! I'm the one who told you guys to say that!

Manx: Um, hello, sweetheart?

TT: You're DONE, you old bat! One scene is enough for you!

Ken: Send her this way. I could use some company about now.

Schuldig: Company you say? Am I not good enough? I'll just lock the doors and then we'll have some time just for ourselves.

Ken: Thorn? Help?