Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Carefully Out of Reach ❯ Finding Life ( Chapter 4 )

Carefully Out of Reach

By Verdorbene Unschuld

Disclaimer: I own very little, extremely little, and Weiss is not included in that very small amount of things I do own. I'm using them for the entertainment of others and my own personal therapy. Think, I'm opportunistic to use anime to escape from real life? Sue me. Wait, on second hand, don't.

Warning: Plenty of angst, sadness, disease, hopelessness…it's depressing, NOT HAPPY. This is also Yaoi or m/m relationships. Aya seems just a tad fucked up, well he's anyway.

Rating: NC-17, there's swearing, there's sex, there will probably be a little violence if I'm in the right mood because it adds a nice side dish to all the angst.

Pairing: YoujixAya

Summary: Something is very, very wrong with Aya but will he let Youji help him? And even if he does, will it be far too late?

A/N: What Aya reads to his sister (ack, the sappiness, I can't believe I have a muse that makes me gag): It is the first line of Jane Austin's Pride and Prejudice, a marvellous book, and though I own a copy of the book, the story does not belong to me.

A/N 2: Um... … … sorry, sorry, sorry, I am a horrible person for waiting so long to get this up. Hangs head in shame.

A/N 3: Excluding the first few sections of Youji and Aya pov, there is a fair bit of time in between each one. When Youji knocks, it is about a month and a half later and then there are big spaces between each section.

A/N 4: Thank you all for not killing me.

If I close my eyes and think of every nuance of your face, every facet of your eyes, the exact texture of your skin, the particular softness of your lips, the silkiness of your hair; if I sculpt your image with my imagination, when I open my eyes, you will not be there. Fantasy is not reality, and that is all you'll ever be for me, a fantasy. So very far out of reach. I wish I had a better imagination, even in my dreams I cannot make you love me.

Aya stared at his sister's sleeping face. No, that wasn't quite right. This wasn't his sister's sleeping face, it wasn't even his sister. His sister smiled and laughed and cajoled him into doing crazy things his father would be furious about afterwards. Even when sleeping, she had always been smiling, dreaming of the things she could do when she awoke. This _thing_, whatever it was, was _not_ his sister. It couldn't do anything she could do and he hated it. Hated whatever had taken control of her body and made her into _this_.

But he loved the memory of his sister, loved what she had been. And even if it was just something he had deluded himself into believing, he knew that his sister's mind and soul were still in the body he despised so much. And he hoped that she could hear his voice and know that he loved her, even if he couldn't love the body before him. He hoped it would help her to throw out this vile thing that had stopped them both from living life.

He had left his apartment once all the colours but blue had left the sky. There was no point in staying in a place that was his own and yet wasn't. Besides they had moved his sister so that he would have a bed beside her if necessary and he wanted to see her room and make sure she had handled the move alright. It was nice, he supposed, if you could call a hospital room that without cynicism. It had a view of the park he had stopped by so often after visits with her. More sun shined in here, making the girl look a little more alive than with just the dull lights of the hospital.

There was nowhere he had to go, nothing he had to do. If nothing else good came of what was happening, at least he would be able to spend more time with his sister. He smiled at her as he sat down and picked up the top book of a pile that sat on the window ledge. "It is a truth universally acknowledged;" he started as he curled up in the seat beside her bed, "that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife..."

****

"What do you mean exactly, by: 'goodbye'?" Youji asked, taking off his sunglasses to give Manx a penetrating look, one that had her taking a step back at the honest violence in his eyes. Ken shot up from his seated position, knocking the glass off his knee and onto the floor. It shattered, and everyone was suddenly quiet in the wake of the crash. Omi bent down, trying to pick the pieces up, hindered by the fact that his trembling hands kept dropping the glass.

Ken was still standing, looking bereft and forlorn, craving for someone to give him a purpose to latch onto. Youji ignored both of his team-mates, instead concentrating on the two women who stood nervously before him. "Answer the fucking question," he hissed out, quite ready and willing to wrap his hands around either of their throats for answers.

"Exactly that," Birman said, but the pity in her eyes bellied the harshness of the words, "he isn't coming back this time, for whatever reason."

"Has he left Kritiker, or just Weiss?" Omi asked, sniffling slightly as he stared at the sparkling shards on the ground.

"He is no longer apart of the organization," Birman stated, just as Manx said to Omi, "it had nothing to do with you," which could be taken in more than one way.

"Ch," Youji said, "So who's doing Aya's solo missions?"

Manx glared at him; he would ask that. Youji was acting dangerously stupid at the moment, unsurprisingly stupid. Manx had gone to Persia before they had come here and told him that no one in Weiss was taking Aya's old missions. She has threatened to quit when he pressed the issues, knowing it would most likely mean her death if Persia ignored her 'request'. He had stared at her quizzically for a few moments before agreeing. She didn't know much about those missions, but she knew they weren't pretty and was going to give Aya the privacy of no one in Weiss knowing just how ugly they were from personal experience.

"None of your concern," she answered sharply, a little delayed. He just smiled bitterly at her and stood up.

"Then you have nothing left to say that might interest me," he said as he walked up the stairs, ignoring Omi call for him to come back and Birman's frown.

"He's right;" she said firmly, "this meeting is over. We need to leave. Good evening." Manx nodded at the two of them and left, both women knowing things were about to get ugly.

****

Youji walked into the garage, slamming the door shut behind him. He didn't notice that his hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair. 'Good-bye, eh?' he thought as he grabbed the tool case. 'Good-bye?' he wanted to shout as he pulled the door back open and stormed up the stairs. Down the hall and into Aya's room, past the mattress and the mark on the wall beside it. The small burn from his cigarette was the only sign that someone might have lived in that room once. He walked past it and into the other room in the flat where he sat down on the floor in front of the window. He threw open the toolbox and got out the battery operated drill and as he tried to insert the drill bit into the screw, he realized his hands were shaking. He stared at them a while, wondering when that had started before turning back to what he was doing. One screw fell into his waiting, shaking palm, and then another.

The others were, despite their shock, inevitably drawn to the noise. It took them a little while to locate where the sound was coming from and by the time they did two more screws had fallen. Another one by the time Omi finally asked him to stop.

"No," he said in response and one more screw tumbled down to join the others in agreement.

Omi reached for his arm to stop him. "Get off, Omi," he said, and those words should have been fair warning, damnit. Omi should have known he was dangerously close to the edge. He could feel it bubbling up inside him, so much stronger than before, stronger than he ever thought possible. The noise of the drill was grating on his nerves but he forced himself not to throw it across, concentrating on his task.

But Omi obviously wasn't thinking quite as quickly as he normally was. "No," he mimicked unintentionally, trying to get the drill out of his hand.

"Get. Off." he repeated, not wanting to be touched.

"Then stop trying to break Aya-kun's window seat," Omi yelled at him.

"No," he bellowed right back.

"Then no," Omi said, holding tighter, both of them ignoring Ken's shouts to stop.

"I said, let go," Youji yelled, pushing his elbow back. It connected hard enough to force Omi to let go and put a hand to his nose, scurrying back. The older man whirled; breathing heavily as he readied himself for a fight. But there was only Omi sprawled along the floor with blood coming out of his nose and Ken glaring up at him before trying to take a look to make sure nothing had broken. Only Omi. Omi, who he had promised to himself not to hurt, and there he was, in pain and it was all his fault. Only Omi. Omi sitting on the floor with betrayed eyes, not a threat. He threw the drill away and it hit the wall with a 'clunk', Youji wincing internally at the way Omi flinched. Guilt was joining the rage that had found a new target: himself.

"I…I'm sorry…I-" he stopped, swallowed and looked away. "I need to go," he walked out, ignoring Ken's curses.

He left his car, he didn't trust himself to drive, didn't trust that he wouldn't hit someone that was as innocent as Omi. He walked aimlessly, ending up, as usual, in a bar. Not a bar with fancy lights and pretty women, but a bar where the only the comfort you could get was drink. He ordered tequila shots and told the bartender to keep them coming. No one talked in this kind of bar, except for the drunken murmur of regrets long since past.

Youji drank until Ken came to pick him up. The brunette explained something about tracers, which he couldn't quite pick up in the state he was in. Ken threw the blonde into Seven's passenger seat and drove them home, listening to Youji's drunken ramblings with a worried frown.

When Youji woke the next morning, aching in more places than he could count and far too alone, nothing had changed. But as walked by Aya's room he glanced through to the far end and saw a complete window seat. It didn't really matter who had done it, or why they had chosen to, but they had, and he was grateful.

******

Aya yawned as he put the book aside. Sighing, he got up from the chair, the tinge of pain from his side reminded him of his need to see the doctor, which reminded him of other things. He bent down carefully and kissed his sister on the forehead, promising to come back and finish the book later.

He walked out of the room and down the hall. He needed to go two floors down and make a few turns. He stepped off the elevator, ready to face whatever the doctors would tell him. Well, not quite…

But sometimes, there are things you need to tell yourself so you can continue on.

******

A month and a half later (for those of you who don't read author's notes)

Youji knocked softly on the door, waiting for the Omi to answer. There had been a time where he hadn't needed to knock; he could have just barged in, a time when there would have been nothing to knock on because the door was always open. And even if he door had been closed for some reason, as it was every once and a while, the eldest Weiss had always been able to barge right in and be welcomed. Aya's leaving had started a pattern of change, all of it unpleasant.

Omi's, 'yeah,' was heard through the door, muffled slightly. Youji opened the door to see Omi swiping his thumb over a picture frame, before putting it pack on his desk. He stared at the picture as Omi turned away from it; the four of them together. He hated when Omi looked at those pictures, the lonely and betrayed faced he had whenever he did. Hell, he hated pictures of the four of them in general, hated any reminder of what once had been, what they had lost. Enough of recent days he'd hated Aya, but today was not one of those days.

"I want you to find him," Youji declared abruptly as he closed the door behind him. Omi's head whirled to look at him sharply, disbelief clearly written on his features. Youji had refused to say a word about Aya since Manx and Birman had come by to give the man's last words, or rather, word. He had taken it to the point where he would leave the room if he heard even the fangirls mention the redhead.

"You know what that would mean, don't you?" Kritiker had specifically forbid them to try and find Aya. Manx had gone as far as too say they would be considered traitors if they did. None of them believed that, even without Aya, they were still Kritiker's most successful team. Kritiker couldn't afford to loose that, especially since they supposedly didn't have their best assassin. But there would be repercussions and none of them pretty.

"Only if they find out," Youji pointed out with cheerfulness he didn't feel. He had decided, finally, after one more dream of Aya, that it was time to try and do something about this. Because there was always the possibility that Aya had amnesia or something like that. Unfortunately it was only the first decision of many. He had thought about not bringing Omi into this but, despite not really wanting to, he had decided that he had to. Kritiker was watching them all far too closely for Youji to use his old contacts and Omi had a subtly he lacked. So it was out of necessity that he came to the young blond; that and Omi needed someone to give him a purpose, a cause.

So he was doing this in part for Omi. Really, he was.

Omi stood there, chewing his lip for a moment before turning to Youji and giving him a smile. There was something in his cerulean blue eyes that seemed more familiar and he hadn't seemed that happy since Aya had left and something twanged inside Youji at the thought.

"We'll find him, Youji-kun; I knew you'd change your mind eventually." Omi hugged him and he ruffled the kid's hair. The first hug since Aya had left.

"I'm glad somebody did."

******

Aya sighed as he walked down the hallway towards his sister's room. To be honest, his and his sister's room. There had been chemotherapy and then more Chemo, different Chemo during the past couple months. They had destroyed his immune system enough that the doctor had told him he should be in isolation. He had asked if he could continue to see his sister. when told no, he had told the doctor that they should be more concerned about keeping germs and viruses away from his sister than his eventual death. The doctor told him he wouldn't necessarily die. With the way his body rejected the treatment and that his immune system was so non-existent that a sniffle could kill him, he had just left. But now he lived in the hospital, his apartment not collecting dust only because of the Ivory Tower's cleaning service.

And as he walked past the nurses and the doctors and the patients and the visitors one question refused to leave his mind.

What was it like to live, that other people thought he should want to so badly?

******

"Youji," Omi called from upstairs, "YOUJI!" he called again, five seconds later when he got no response.

"Yeah chibi?" Youji called back, not about to go all the way upstairs before he knew what he was being called for.

"Just come upstairs," he hollered, not about to explain it on different floors of the house.

"Fine, fine," Youji muttered as he walked up the stairs, inwardly complaining about tyrannical chibis. He threw open the door, ignoring the formality they were finally starting to get passed. "What?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame.

Omi grinned at him, seemingly so very proud of himself as he declared, "I found him."

*****

Aya stared at his sister from his bed; sitting cross-legged as he leaned against the raised mattress. She was beautiful, as always, even without the smile that would tell him she had awoken. For once in his life, he did not wish for his sister to wake up. He did not want her to see him like this; didn't want to see her finally open her eyes only for his to close in irrevocable death. He remembered his words to the doctor a few days before. "It is inevitable that I will die soon, my sister will not. She is the one that must be protected. And as long as my presence causes no harm to her, I will spend the rest of the time I have by her side."

He ran a hand through his thinner hair; he hadn't been on the treatment for long enough that it had all fallen out, but less was there. He found he missed it, despite the annoyance it had caused him. The thought reminded him bemusedly of Youji.

He walked around her bed to the window, careful not to touch her. He had been so nervous lately; worried that contact with him would curse her like it had everybody else. So he watched her and he read to her and talked to her but he didn't brush her hair anymore, or kiss her forehead. He wondered if she noticed.

He thought, morbidly, that at least this way, instead of abruptly disappearing, he would only fade away.

*******

Youji stared at the door, at his palm on the handle. He would have laughed at his own indecision if he wasn't so mentally sick with nervousness. He had spent hours convincing Omi to let Youji go see Aya alone and now that he was here he couldn't decide whether or not to open the door. He almost felt bad about not letting Omi come now; who he was sure would have just barged right. The blonde boy had worked hard to find Aya. He had found Aya's sister first, knowing that Aya wouldn't have moved far from her. On paper she had moved to multiple different locations before going straight back to Magic School Bus Hospital, except in a different room. He had followed the money paying her bills into an account. Part of the money going into that account went to another one with higher interest, almost two million American dollars pilled high inside. Omi had made the assumption that Aya was paying the money as a trust fund for when Aya-chan woke up. So he moved up the ladder to the account that was putting money aside for Aya-chan. Another number account, with three sources and half the money going to Aya-chan and half to an unknown. Ignoring the unknown, he had found to his shock that the three sources had been Persia's, Manx's and Birman's personal accounts. That had confounded both Youji and Omi but it had been inconsequential compared to the disappointment of not finding Aya. Omi had hacked into the 'unknown's' account more on a whim than any sort of hope it would be Aya. That account once again split into three accounts, a personal account under the name of Arishima Hideo, an account which paid for rent at The Ivory Tower, and intriguingly enough another for Magic School Bus. Omi had looked at the personal account first, seeing normal things like grocery stores and such. Then he looked at the Ivory Tower account, and some of the information he had later found on the apartment's database hinted that it could be Aya. He had been about to switch to the last file when something caught his eye. He had smiled at Youji as he told this part, because Arishima Hideo had requested and been granted the right to build a window seat in his bedroom.

Youji winced at how angry he'd gotten then, at the thought that Aya was still working for Kritiker and just didn't want to see them, see him. But Omi had calmed him down, turning from his computer to look at Youji. "On Kritiker files he was actually killed on our last mission together, when he was shot. Supposedly, no one but Manx, Persia, and Birman know that he is still alive. Money has been going into his and Aya-chan's accounts weekly in small amounts so as to remain unnoticed since he left here." He also reminded him that neither of them had looked at the last account or at Arishima Hideo files at Magic School Bus. And what they had found…

Youji was gratefully pulled from his thoughts by the terrifying idea of the knob turning under his palm. The door swung open to reveal Aya, looking alive and piqued. "Stop standing in front of the door, it's annoying," he said, "Either come…or go."

*******

TBC

See, I told you I'm a horrible, horrible person. I hope the next chapter will come out MUCH faster than this one.