Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 16 ( Chapter 16 )

16

(sound…of a heartbeat)

Farfarello sat outside in the rain. His mantis friend was long gone to dryer places, leaving the Irishman alone with his thoughts.

I reached out to his mind, testing myself. Three days of almost solid work had given me a hell of a headache, but last night's sleep and a couple of aspirins had put it back down. Now I was ready to see if it had done any good at all.

The trick would be touching his mind without his noticing me, and getting back out without either of us getting a headache or a nosebleed. Not that Farfarello would care about either, but the headache would make his vision blurry enough to notice. I'd ask him later, if I had any doubt as to the results of my practice.

His outer mind was like a still pool today, calm, reflective. Occasional ripples hinted at dark forms within the depths, things that could rise up and transform the pool to a vortex of violent intensity. I had to be careful here.

There, his internal monologue, a constant stream of thoughts that carried his personality and most basic beliefs, the things that got him through his day. In most people, this would be a cheerfully disjointed thing, a babbling brook full of random chatter and phone numbers and shopping lists and the like. But the mind of Farfarello was far more organized than most, and his inner voice droned on like a preacher, or an attorney.

His current attitude was one of waiting: he considered Brad's absence a means of telling time, and when Brad returned he would take that as a sign that the next phase would begin. What exactly he expected that to involve I could not decipher without digging deeper, and I wasn't ready to try that yet.

From within his mind, I turned my attention back to myself and listened for other intruding voices. None. That was good. While I was outside my own shields and browsing through Farfarello's head, I wasn't picking up any other thoughts. True, there weren't that many people here; the crush of the big city would be a different test altogether. But if I couldn't handle this, I wouldn't have a prayer there; I had to try this to know.

At the edge of my thoughts, Farfarello became aware of the intrusion. He'd caught my comments to myself, I could tell: his mind had pounced on the word "prayer" like a cat on a mouse, and now he searched for the source of it. Crap.

::Just me, Far. Making sure I can still do this.::

::Ah, I see. Incurring any roaming charges?:: His mental tone was laughing.

::Don't think so. Any effects on your end?:: I raised a hand to my face to feel under my nose, but no blood. A good sign; a nosebleed on a sending telepath usually indicated extreme brain damage or total lack of functional shielding, so its absence gave me a good measure of comfort.

::None. Want to try more?:: He relaxed against my mind, allowing me to do as I wished.

::Nah, I'm done in. Hoped you wouldn't notice me at all, actually. Kind of disappointed that you did.::

::Oh, but I'd always notice you, Fire-hair. You're kind of unmistakable. But do as you will. I'm enjoying the rain today. And you don't have to watch the door. I'm staying here until dinnertime.:: His thoughts held no anger at my vigilance, only a calm recognition of it.

::Thanks, Far. I'll leave you be, then.:: I disengaged. The headache pulsed back into life, but dimmer than it had been. I shook out two more aspirin and took them with a swig of soda. Damn, but I was glad I'd asked for the cola! It speeded the aspirin up a little, and tasted mighty good too.

I felt my confidence and mood swell to near-normal heights. This little practice with Farfarello had gone perfectly, until he noticed me, anyway. And to be honest, it was damn near impossible to sneak into his head without him noticing, so any moments I had were good ones.

Something in the room caught my attention, but I couldn't place what it was. Then it came again: a soft rustling sound from the direction of Nagi's futon. I hurried to his side.

The boy's eyes moved beneath the closed lids like a sleeper in dreamstate. His left hand, the side hooked up to the bag, twitched a little on the covers.

I held my breath and took hold of his hand. "Come on, chibi, wake up. Wake up, baby!" I murmured, trying to remember to breathe around the words. My heart pounded dizzyingly in my chest.

His hand twitched again, then turned a little as though recognizing the touch of my hand upon it. Eyelids fluttered over eyes too deep-set, sunken within his childlike face and delicately bruised. Lips stuck together through disuse pulled slowly apart as his jaw worked and his tongue tried to shape meaningful sounds through the soft whimpers coming from his throat.

"Shh, I'm here, Nagi, I'm here," I whispered, a fresh wave of tears coming to my eyes. I squeezed his hand a little.

Tiny muscles in his dark, papery eyelids worked to unstick eyes glued shut with unnatural sleep. His long lashes parted, a millimeter, two. He blinked slowly at the dim light.

"Doko…?" Nagi's breathy voice faded after the one word, though his lips moved to complete the question. His eyes slowly focused on my face.

"Long story, sweetie," I said, unable to keep the smile from my face. "Someplace safe."

He tried to turn his head but the effort was too much. Instead, he moved his left arm a little, bringing the line into view. "Nani?"

I concentrated on his mind for a moment, despite my own headache. His understanding of language was scrambled, but he seemed to be firing on all pins otherwise. He winced a little, and I realized he had felt me. "Sorry, kiddo."

Nagi looked at me, his face blank but his eyes showing pain. "Gaijin," he whispered, and I felt a little chill run down my spine. Didn't he know who I was? But then he murmured, "Shudrich," and the chill dissipated a little. His language center had apparently slid backward a few years; he was having trouble with the European pronunciations again. Was that normal? Then again, who could say? We didn't even really know what had happened to him, though my theory that he'd suffered a stroke seemed borne out with his speech difficulties and trouble with movement.

"Hai, Schuldig desu," I told him, again squeezing his hand gently.

He winced again and whispered, "Baka gaijin, Shudrich." His parched lips almost smiled.

"Yeah, so my accent is atrocious. What else is new?" I said with a grin. "Crawford is away on business, but he'll be back soon. Farfarello --" I paused. I almost said "Farfarello is in the garden," but that would have a quasi-biblical or funereal sound to it. "Farf's here too," I finished lamely.

Nagi blinked again, trying to focus. His hand tightened on mine, and I realized he was trying to pull himself up. I slid my arm under his shoulders and helped him sit. He didn't have the strength to hold himself there, so I sat behind him and let him rest against me. When he'd caught his breath from this exertion, I propped him against the wall and went to our little stash of food for a bottle of water. I had to hold it for him, and he coughed some of it back out, but he drank quite a bit.

Soft questions in Japanese fell from his lips, and I answered as simply as I could. Ten days, or close to it. For now; I'll take the needle out later. I know it hurts.

He dozed, and I monitored his breathing, afraid he'd slip away from me after that brief reassuring moment of life. Above us, the storm increased its intensity, lashing rain and wind against the rooftop with the rhythm of waves.

Farfarello came in and toweled off by the door. He changed into dry clothes, then seemed to notice me sitting with Nagi in my arms.

"Schuldig?"

"He's going to be all right, Far," I murmured, understanding his question without needing to read his thoughts. "He woke up for a little while. Now he's just sleeping."

Far came over and knelt beside us, gazing at Nagi the way a kind child would gaze at a lost puppy. He reached out one rain-cool hand and casually felt Nagi's throat for a pulse. "It's stronger," he stated; I had no idea when he might have checked before to have such a comparison. With a slight frown, he regarded the IV line and asked me, "Does he still need that, then?"

"I'm not about to fuck with it, Far. I don't like needles."

"They don't bother me. I can take it out, if you want."

The thought of Farfarello touching Nagi in such an intimate way bothered me. He would be close to a major vein, and have access to a big and sharp needle. Then I reminded myself that never had the madman even hinted at wanting Nagi's death. In fact, he'd said he would die to protect the boy. I sighed. "Honestly, I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to take it out, in case he goes under again and needs it. But...I think it's hurting him, having that thing in his arm."

Far placed his fingertips under my chin and tilted my head back so I had to look at him instead of at Nagi. "Schu, does he want it out? Would you, if you were him?"

I nodded, too weary, too relieved, just wanting this all to be over.

Far leaned in and kissed me, his full lips soft upon my own. His mouth tasted like jasmine. He moved so his lips caressed my ear. "Trust me?"

Again I could only nod.

He got up and went to our supplies, digging out a bottle of alcohol, some gauze, and the bandages. Moving with calm determination, he knelt in front of Nagi. With firm, skilled hands, he doused a wad of gauze, then swabbed off Nagi's arm around the needle. The flesh was deeply bruised from forearm to bicep, displaying an array of sickly color from green to purple-black.

"If this bothers you, don't watch," Farfarello told me as he gripped Nagi's arm at the elbow with his left hand. The boy was small anyway, but with his sleep-induced weight loss Farfarello's hand engulfed his arm easily, pressing just above the needle point. With the side of his right hand, Far pressed down just below the needle; using his thumb and forefinger, he gently slid the steel lifeline from Nagi's tortured vein.

Blood spurted, but Far clamped down on it with his hands and a wad of bandages. He neatly folded Nagi's arm at the elbow and lifted it high, slowing the blood flow to that limb with practiced ease. His lips moved as he counted the seconds.

After about a minute, he cautiously checked his handiwork. Blood trickled, but that was all. He pressed the wadding into place and instructed me to hold the arm up again. Far unwound a strip of surgical tape, tearing it free with his teeth, then taped the wadding into place. The tape pulled at Nagi's delicate skin; I knew it would leave marks, if not glue blisters, but it couldn't be helped.

"Thanks, Far."

"Anytime."

Farfarello went into the bathroom, and I could hear him washing. I sighed and leaned heavily against the wall, Nagi cradled against my chest. He would be all right, I told myself. Now everything would be all right.