Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 2 ( Chapter 2 )

2

"We can stay here a few more days," Crawford stated with unconvincing calm.

"Why couldn't we just go with Weiß? They have doctors!" I snarled, fear getting the better of me. I had watched from the window as the retrieval vans had arrived and swept the Kritiker team away to medical care and hot food. I had watched the youngest kitten look back toward my window and say nothing. I had watched their rescue even as I listened to the faint breath of Nagi and the harsh rasp of Farfarello struggling not to die just yet.

Crawford sighed, pain clouding his features. He wrapped his left arm around himself a little more tightly. Something had broken inside and movement hurt him. Still, he was our leader, and as such, he would lead until stopped by Death herself. "Schuldig, we can't do that. Not now. Don't ask me why. We'll get through this without their doctors."

There was no need to mention that we would do without Esset doctors as well, for our ties with Esset had been not only severed but cauterized. After this, we would either be hailed as liberators, or reviled as traitors. I had a bad feeling about it. But my head hurt too much to dwell on such things, so I complained about the obvious.

"What about Farf?" How the Irishman had survived was beyond me: two of those claws had gone right up into his brain, with a third claw giving him a new scar up the right side of his face. He was alive, but had had two seizures since we brought him to the cabin and still had not regained consciousness. "You've Seen Nagi waking up, but what about Farf?"

I frowned at myself; even I had heard the panic tinging my voice, and I knew it had not been lost upon Crawford. That man missed nothing. He remained silent. I looked over at our stoic leader.

Silver tears spoke for him. His shoulders shook slightly as he fought to contain this uncharacteristic outburst, and failed. One trembling hand rose to cover his face. "Schuldig, you don't understand. None of us should be here." His eyes peered over his fingers at me. "We should have died in that tower."

A chill ran through me at his unexpected statement. "Brad --" I felt justified in using the familiarity of his first name under the circumstances -- "what are you saying?"

He looked up at me from where he sat, leaning painfully against the wall, his eyes bright with knowing. "The only freedom I saw for us would be bought in blood. Our blood. I never saw an `after' for that battle. We should be dead."

Something compelled me to his side. I sank to the floor, took hold of his arm and lay my head against his shoulder. This time, he did not push me away. All those years I had ached to be this close to him, and now... He wept, and I wrapped myself in the silence of him.

The moment ended too soon. "Schuldig, there's something we need to do, and I can't be the one to do it. Our apartment. There are things we'll need..." His voice trailed off, stolen by pain.

"I'm on it. How much time do you think I'll have?"

Crawford frowned, calculating the risk. "Take as little time as possible. In any case, be back before sunrise."

He didn't need to say any more. I knew that if I did not return in time, they would not be waiting for me. How he would move our two unconscious teammates didn't matter; he would find a way.

I promised him I'd be back in time.

I couldn't take a car. That would be too obvious, and in any case I was not in any condition to drive. I figured I'd dry off better if I took a bike anyway, at least as far as the train station. Thank the gods that this wretched museum had been on the same island as our apartment, or this would be much more difficult to do.

As soon as I spotted a likely mark, I was off the bike and helping myself to the fellow's cash and his ATM card, with the number easily plucked out of his unsuspecting head. He smiled and nodded, and would remember only a gaijin asking politely for directions; he would presume his wallet had been left at home. When it turned up later in a public trash bin, he might wonder, but would never connect it with me.

I hopped on a bus, invisible as a ghost. Damn, but it was easy clouding the minds of normals. Good thing, too; my head hurt like a bitch. I didn't know how long I could keep this up, and time was of the essence.

Bus to train to apartment, with a brief detour to cash in the stolen ATM card and lose the wallet. It felt like midnight was fast approaching. This was taking too long.

I let myself into our apartment and checked the clock. 10:48. Not midnight yet, then. Good. I tried to figure what time it would be in 20 minutes; I had to count on my fingers, my head hurt so bad. Okay, then. I would be out of here by 11:08.

First stop, hallway closet. Two large gym bags, already stuffed with minimal gear: casual clothes, two spare guns, ammunition, small towels. Still room for more important things. I dropped them in the hall and moved on.

Bathroom. With shaking hands I opened the bottle of migraine pills and dry-swallowed two. Then every bottle of pain medicine went into Crawford's neat little shaving kit, along with needle and suture thread, rubbing alcohol, first aid kit, and general hygeine supplies. On impulse I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and tossed it with the over-full shaving bag into the hallway.

Farf's room. Not the cell, there wouldn't be anything in there. This was his room for his lucid times. Rather, this was his room. I grabbed two good knives, a few random books, a whetstone and oil, some more street clothes, and a straitjacket.

I looked at the growing pile in the hallway. How the hell was I going to carry all this shit?

No time. I hurried to Nagi's room. There, I made a small pile of clothes - he didn't have many. Then I rifled through his desk until I found the small screwdriver he used for his computer casing. I pried open the hard drive and pulled out the motherboard and memory chips. These went into the pile of clothes. I would cripple every computer in our possession: we didn't dare keep them, but damned if I was leaving anything behind.

From there, I hurried to my own room. I grabbed another satchel and stuffed clothes and cigarettes in it. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed my disc player, headphones, and some random music.

Brad's room - easy. Just clothes and spare eyeglasses. He didn't keep much of interest there. I did grab the small pistol from his nightstand, though, just in case.

Then, the office. It was already eleven; I had to hurry. First, the wall safe. Crawford kept a stash of money in several currencies there; we'd need every last bit of it. I grabbed a large envelope and filled it. Under the cash lay a key; it went into the envelope too.

I gutted the computer and the laptop, keeping the chips in my pocket for the moment. I'd dispose of them thoroughly later.

I knew he never kept anything important written down, so I didn't bother with the filing cabinet. I jimmied the desk and took the half dozen syringes of powerful sedative he reserved for Farfarello's most dangerous outbursts. I found yet another gun and more bullets, and our ATM card. I looked around to see if I'd forgotten anything.

On the desk sat Crawford's candy jar, its contents a bright mix of inviting colors. American chocolate, candy coated to keep it neat, the orange and green ones carefully removed to keep a certain unstable Irishman from going ballistic. I found a manilla envelope, dumped out the papers, and poured the candy in. I folded it over carefully and headed back to the hall.

I managed to cram most of my collected items into the gym bags and satchel. I had to jettison one outfit each for myself and Crawford; I had forgotten the kitchen, and needed a little more room.

Cans are too heavy, bottles out of the question. I grabbed some soup packets and two plastic mugs, trying to plan what we could feed Nagi and Farf when they woke up. I refused to think anything else about the matter. The things we had in the kitchen were too bulky; I decided to get food later.

Blankets, dammit! What was I thinking? The fishing cabin had only one tiny cot and a smelly wool blanket, and we had two wounded people to care for. Three, actually; I'd need to find something to wrap Brad's chest with, too. And I was still sopping wet, and my self-imposed deadline was nearly up.

I hurried to my room and stripped, then dried off with a sheet. Sudden inspiration moved me, and I grinned at my cleverness. An outfit I had passed by became my first layer: skin-tight leather pants and a silk shirt. Over this I added another silk shirt. I grabbed two thin but warm blankets and a set of sheets and sprinted, tossing the bed linens into the hall and hurrying back into Brad's room.

There I found a pair of jeans that just fit over my leathers, and a linen shirt that wasn't too overly warm. Two pairs of lightweight socks and a pair of old, sprung tennis shoes finished the gear. The layers of clothing made me look far different from the slender German they would be expecting, should the hunt begin so soon.

The bags were crammed to capacity. I took one last look around the apartment.

11:10. Time to go.

I hurried away from the apartment, then deliberately slowed down. I would play the part of a misplaced gaijin student, looking for a friend's house that was just down the street for certain. Lost would suit me well. Besides, the bags were damn heavy.

Another train, another lifted wallet, another bank card. I collected a fair amount of cash in a short time, always sure to pass the card to a handy assistant and guide them through the transaction like a good puppet, to ensure that my face did not appear on the bank cameras.

My head was killing me. I wondered what had happened, in the tower, that had left me in such condition. I had been in contact with the rest of my team when the tower fell. I had felt Farf die, though it seems the crazy Irishman had survived his own death yet again. Could the link have damaged something for good?

It didn't matter, so long as my telepathy lasted long enough to get me back to the fish hut where my team lay wounded and cold.

The rest of the night became one painful blur. I debated taking more medicine, but no, I would save that for Nagi. If my power was causing me pain, and all I had done was keep up our link, what had happened to the chibi, who had collapsed saving us from the sea?

I stopped at a convenience store and bought some food, mostly hiker's snacks and power drinks and the like. On impulse I added a double handful of caffeine pills and vitamins to the pile. The clerk smiled blandly and would not remember my face. Hopefully he would not think about why he had turned the security cameras off for those few minutes.

I checked the clock on the register. 3:14 a.m.

Less than an hour later, I stumbled down to the shack by the sea. My muscles were screaming, my head was beyond pain, and my eyesight was beginning to go dim, but I made it back in time.

Crawford met me a few steps past the door, taking the two gym bags from me with a grateful smile.

"Wait," I told him, setting down the groceries and my satchel. "I have to do something first." I took the computer parts out of my pocket, snapped them into shards, and flung them into the sea. "Okay, now I'm done."