Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 17 ( Chapter 17 )

17

run, rabbit run, dig that hole, forget the sun

and when at last the work is done, don't sit down, it's time to dig another one

"How is he?" Crawford asked as he brought several large shopping bags in from the car. The man looked exhausted: his eyes were deeply shadowed, and he frowned as though the morning light bothered him.

But I didn't mistake the look of relief that relaxed his features for that one beautiful moment, when I told him Nagi was awake. I smiled back at him. "Well, he's weak, of course. Needs help to pee, has to be spoon-fed, things like that. We got the line out of his arm and he's taking liquids readily enough."

"But?" Brad clearly had Seen something; he looked at me as though daring me to lie.

"He...he's lost a lot of his English, Brad. And his own language is damn hard for him. I can't look too deep in his head because he feels it, as quickly as Farf does, but with Nagi it hurts him. I'm a little scared, actually." Damn, I wished I hadn't had to lose the good mood so early. Now I'd be wanting cigarettes all damn day.

"There are more cigarettes for you in that bag, Schuldig. And by the way, you're projecting again."

Fuck. "God damn it, Brad! I worked on that," I whined. "I worked hard, dammit! Ah, hell."

Brad put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. "I understand. Your telepathy always acts up when you get emotional. I'm worried about him too. I've arranged for us to see another doctor, a better doctor. But we'll have to go to Tokyo."

I felt myself go pale. "Brad, no. No way! I am NOT going back there!" Reflexively I flinched out from under his hand as though afraid he might drag me to Tokyo by force.

"I thought you said you'd been working on your shields. What's the problem? Just because you're projecting right now doesn't mean you can't handle Tokyo." He regarded me with a sharp eye.

"Fuck you, Crawford," I mumbled, more panicked than I wanted him to see. Tokyo, damn near the highest population density in the whole damn world, and every living thing with an education and a high IQ. That's how it felt, anyway, millions of curious, active minds humming and buzzing like a beehive on cocaine. At my peak, I could barely keep them out and myself in. Right now I was definitely not at my peak.

"Schuldig, the team will go to Tokyo." Brad's tone would allow no argument. "There we will attend to some more business before leaving Japan for a little while. You will get your isolation soon, I promise you. Until then, I will arrange for the doctor to give you something that will help."

"What, Brad? Prozac?" I could feel myself revving up again, just like last time, and again I couldn't stop it. "You know damn well what does and doesn't work for me, and the things that work you don't approve of! Screw you!" By this time I was shaking, nearly shouting and on the verge of tears. Damn but I was crying a lot these days! "Fuck Tokyo, I'm already crazy."

This time he did gather me into his arms, pulling me against his chest and welcoming my mind into the shelter of his own. One strong hand stroked my hair. I couldn't hold onto the fear and anger with him so strong around me; they melted away, ghosts in sunlight.

"Schu, I need you sane. Nagi needs you sane. I will take care of my team, and that includes you. You and your godawful red hair." He smiled against my cheek.

"Brad, I," I started to say, but he hushed me and changed the subject, moving away to unpack the shopping bags.

"We have a little more packing room available. Make good use of these," he said, handing me two student-type backpacks. "Oh, and I got you this."

I took the disc from him and looked at the case. The Crüxshadows. I raised an eyebrow at the name. Interesting, considering how many crosses had figured into our lives of late. "The Mystery of the Whisper" - also interesting, especially to a telepath. Every mind whispers its hidden truth behind what it puts on for show. I surveyed the artwork, curious now. On the front, one of those Egyptian symbols so popular with the vampire crowd, some other symbol on fire, and a very gothic foursome; on the back, the punk-haired goth boy, and the girl looking like some kind of pagan priestess. The song titles intrigued me, too. The ones that weren't from Egyptian mythology were evocative in their own right.

Distant memories fluttered around my head like trapped sparrows; when had I learned about Egyptian mythology? I vaguely remembered big books with big letters, a wide field and scuffed knees, and sunshine; then the headache came, the way it always came when I tried to remember a time before Rosenkreuz, a time when I was innocent.

"Schu, are you all right?"

Crawford looked concerned. I smiled through unexpected tears. "Fine. I'm fine. Just a little headache."

"I think you'll like that disc," he told me. "I did a little research. Seems they're all the rage in Europe, and I know how you like fashionable music."

"Thanks, Brad," I said, honestly meaning it.

He left me in our makeshift storage room to finish repacking. I could hear him talking softly with Nagi in the room next door. I was glad he'd come back so soon after Nagi's waking; my Japanese had never been as fluent as Brad's, and I really didn't dare leave that to Farfarello. We needed to know how bad Nagi's condition was, and frankly, Brad was best suited of us to find out.

I had already dealt with the suitcases from his first trip out, and the rest of the stuff I'd brought from our apartment. These shopping bags wouldn't be too bad, especially with the extra backpacks. I rearranged a few things, made sure my disc player and supplies were handy in one of the packs, and called it good.

As I headed back to our sleeping room, Crawford came out, supporting Nagi on his way to the toilet. I hurried over to help.

"Done already? What, did you chuck everything out the window?" Brad asked.

Nagi made some comment in Japanese. I caught the word "baka", one of his favorites when referring to me. I smiled a little.

"Gaki's feisty today," I observed, mangling the word for brat as usual. "Yes, I'm done. I was done until you brought the new shit, and that didn't take long. The backpacks were a good idea."

"Of course they're a good idea," Brad stated, as though surprised I'd even bothered to say so.

Nagi had always been a very private soul, and having two of his teammates practically carry him to the toilet did not make him happy. He told us to back off, and held onto the doorframe for a few moments before sagging back onto Crawford's arm. From his mind I picked up the language-proof sentiment, ::I hate this.::

"I know, chibi," I said as I slid his boxers down and helped him sit on the toilet. Thank God they had the sit-down kind! This kid was too weak to stand to piss, much less to squat. Brad and I stepped away to give him a little privacy. When Nagi was done, we helped him back up and got his modesty restored, then started back to the bedroom. His legs gave out, and he nearly slid through our grasp. He didn't weigh anything, I thought as I lifted him in my arms and carried him the rest of the way. Brad looked grateful; I figured he was too damn tired to do this, so I smiled and sent, ::I've got him, Brad. Why don't you find us all some food? You're taking a nap after we get this kid fed.::

For a moment I thought he'd argue, just on principle. After all, he was Brad Crawford, the man in charge, the one who gave the orders, not took them. But this morning he merely nodded. "Good idea. He needs more liquids." He patted Nagi on the shoulder and went in search of the matron of the house.

Over an early lunch Brad explained what the next few days would hold for us. Farfarello listened intently. Nagi half dozed. I paced, my knees still damn sore from that spill I took. They never warn the people taking care of epileptics that the seizures might be more dangerous for them, especially if they're going too fast on a nice wood floor. So I paced, and grumbled to myself.

At least I wasn't chain smoking.

"We're going to Tokyo, then to an outlying district. In Tokyo proper we will receive immediate medical care. That means you, Farfarello, and you, Nagi. It's already arranged." Brad looked at me and asked, ::Do you need medical, Schuldig?:: I told him no. Anything the guy could prescribe wouldn't help me. If necessary, I'd find my own way.

He went on. "We have a window that will last approximately two to three months, during which time the forces of Esset will still be recovering and unable to engage. We will use that time to finish any business that cannot be left undone before leaving Japan. I haven't decided yet where we will go after that. I am using several sources of information in my planning, and things have to be a little flexible right now." He looked like this fact displeased him.

"In other words," Farfarello said in a low, thoughtful voice, "we're going to loiter about the scene of the crime, knowing full well that they won't bother to look there first. Gamble, or do you know, Crawford? The boy is in no condition for a fight."

"I know, Farf. Something happened when the Elders died," Brad said in a near whisper. Somehow we could never manage to talk about Them without dropping our voices, and it relieved me to find that Brad was still not immune to the effect. "I've Seen that there has been a terrible amount of bloodshed over this, and it's not over. They are turning on themselves, casting out the weak and impure, so to speak. Their numbers are dwindling, but those that remain will be the strongest and the most determined to live."

I had to ask. "Any hope that they'll kill themselves off and not bother looking for us?"

Brad didn't dignify my question with a look, but merely stated, "None. They'll come, Schuldig. I've Seen that too."

"Have you seen when?" Far asked.

Brad shook his head. "That's the problem. I know we have this window, but beyond that it's patchy. The only certainty is, we are not safe, gentlemen. We will be hunted."

I sighed. "When do we leave, then?" I was resigned to my fate. I would return to Tokyo with my team and try not to go crazy.

"Morning after next. Until then, enjoy the hospitality."

I yawned, surprised at how such a simple thing could be so draining. Brad stripped to his underclothes and dropped to his futon like an exhausted animal; he was out cold within seconds. Nagi was already asleep, and I couldn't fight my own fatigue any longer. Only Farfarello seemed fresh and alert: he'd slept great ever since that last seizure. Must have done him some good, I wisecracked to myself.

I stripped off my clothes and stretched. It felt good to revert to my preferred sleep state, which is to say nude. I reveled in my own body, though it occurred to me that the assortment of scratches, bruises, bumps, and scabs did not make for an attractive sight by any means. I frowned a little, but enjoyed my stretch anyway. With a yawn I crawled under the covers next to Brad.

"What are you doing, Schuldig?"

Well, I'd thought he was asleep. "Uh, taking a nap, Brad. I'm beat, what with waiting up for you and all."

"I thought you were going to watch over Nagi."

"I've been watching him for days, Brad," I muttered, not wanting an argument from this man. "Farf's awake, he'll keep watch."

Brad snorted. "Fine, it's his turn, then. Why are you in my bed?"

That hurt. More than I was about to let him know. I didn't trust my voice, so I just lay there and blinked, trying to figure out what to do next.

"All right, you can stay," Crawford acquiesced. "But don't get too used to it, Schuldig."

"Never mind," I whispered, "I'm not tired anymore."

Brad heaved a sigh and half turned to look at me before I could get away. "Schu," he said, "remember what I said about treating this too casually? Need I remind you, this is not a bed-and-breakfast inn." Switching to mental speech, he said, ::Sleep is one thing. Utter distraction we cannot afford. And --:: He broke off the thought, but before his shields could push me out, I had picked up enough.

Brad Crawford found me utterly distracting.

Now if I could just get him to relax and enjoy it.