Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 24 ( Chapter 24 )

24

We were once so close to heaven

Peter came out and gave us medals

Declaring us the nicest of the damned

It took even longer to get the special effects putty off Farfarello's face than off Brad's hands. The Irishman had actually managed to mask the scars, though, so the effort was definitely worthwhile. He'd come out of the bathroom with a barely-marked, tanned face so totally unlike himself that I'd just stared.

By the time we got him and the bathroom sink all cleaned up, Nagi had retired to his bed, and Brad's mustache was falling off. As Brad peeled off the last few chunks of fake hair, I leaned back against the wall and yawned. "Hey, Brad?"

"What is it, Schuldig?" he mumbled, picking at the glue on his lip.

"Did you know that Nagi's trying to use his powers?" I didn't feel the least bit bad about ratting out the kid like that. His well-being was my business, and Brad's; this development could be important.

"I figured he might," Brad replied. "And?"

"It doesn't work, it just hurts him."

Brad sighed and for a moment uncertainty clouded his eyes. Then he said, "Well, like I told you, the headaches will be a fact of life for the two of you for a while. I wish it were different, but at this point, that's how it stands."

"Hey, would it help him to have some music, like me? That goth stuff has been a lifesaver. Mindsaver, actually; I'd like more, if you can manage it." I leaned forward and draped myself over his back playfully.

"Schuldig, we are in the bathroom," Brad reminded me, but not without a smile.

"So? At least it's bigger than that one place, you know, with the five-minute shower?" I nibbled at his ear. "Anyway, I'd like to get him something to listen to, something for him to focus on."

"Already taken care of," Brad said with that casual smugness.

Intoxicated by his scent, his presence, I let my hands wander across his chest, and lower. I usually don't play from this position, but having his back against my chest excited me. "Um, Brad?"

He turned slowly, not avoiding my touch but not leaning into it, either. "Schuldig." His hands came up to my shoulders, then slid down my back.

I yawned, the suddenness of it bringing tears to my eyes.

Brad Crawford laughed softly. "Well, I didn't expect that!"

Defeated by weariness, I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I think you need sleep, actually."

"I'd sleep!"

He looked into my eyes and shook his head. "No, you wouldn't." Warm lips pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. "Go on, I'll finish putting things away."

Reluctantly, I did as he suggested. My body was grateful for the rest, even if my libido resented it. I woke to sticky sheets, the dreams unremembered. Fact of life ever since I was old enough, though the years in between had robbed me of the memories of the boy I had once been. With a sigh, I stripped the bed and changed the sheets before dressing and going in search of breakfast.

Brad and Farfarello sat at the kitchen table; there was no sign of Nagi. I got myself a cup of coffee and joined them. "What's on the schedule today?"

"I'm getting us some travel gear," Brad answered, a little distracted by something in the morning news.

"Hey, how did you manage to get a newspaper?" I asked, perplexed.

He focused on me and said, "Schuldig, you never pay attention, do you? The yakuza owed me. I'm collecting. They send a runner over with my newspapers, and I send the runner back out for whatever else we need that doesn't warrant a personal excursion."

"Uh huh… What kind of travel gear? You already got us nice new suitcases."

"They're too bulky. We need something lighter." He went back to ignoring me.

"Lighter? Brad, are you saying you messed up?" I prodded, enjoying the prospect. He didn't make mistakes often, and I pounced on them whenever I caught one.

"I'm saying nothing of the sort," he stated, glaring at me around the paper. "I'm saying that things have changed, and now I have a clearer picture of what will be needed. Get it through your head, Schu: this is not a vacation. This is not for fun. Right now it looks calm and easy, but it will not last."

"Yeah, right." I sulked a little. I had enjoyed the madcap day of makeup and disguises, and now it looked like Paranoid-man was back.

Brad raised an eyebrow at me. "I am not being paranoid, Schuldig. Stop that right now."

Shit.

Continuing on as if it were the most natural thing to do, Brad said, "This afternoon, once we have the new gear, we will all take a hand in repacking and making certain we can each carry our belongings. That's right, Schu - if you can't carry it, it stays behind."

"What are we going to do with the extra crap, Brad? I mean, won't that leave a road map for any object readers they put on our trail?" It scared me that our leader could overlook such an obvious thing.

But Brad Crawford was not a man to overlook anything. At my words, his lips curved into a dark and satisfied smirk, and I knew that Rosenkreuz was in for a ride. "I have arranged for a dispersal pattern over a period of time once we have left the country," he announced. "The yakuza will make certain that our trail is wide and muddy. As they say in America, we're going to lead our pursuit on a wild goose chase."

"And we're the geese," Farfarello commented. "So, in those American sayings, Crawford, do the geese get away? Or do they get cooked?"

"Depends on the geese, really. I don't plan to get caught, Farfarello. I don't plan for any of us to get caught." Brad raised his coffee cup in an impromptu toast.

Nagi wandered in for some breakfast, and I touched his mind lightly, not thinking about it. ::Hey, kiddo. How'd you sleep?::

"Knock it off, Schuldig," Nagi grumbled with a frown. "It still hurts."

Brad and I exchanged glances. Then Brad said, "The doctor is sending something for that, Nagi. You'll let me know how it works for you."

"Hai."

The next few days were a blur of activity. Supplies arrived courtesy of the yakuza errand boys, and between repacking and disguise practice, I lost track of the time. Then again, time had become slippery for me lately. Time was numbers, and numbers hadn't been my friends since I woke up on the beach. Momentarily I wondered if I should mention that to Brad, then I suspected I had already done so. Either way, it didn't matter much. I wasn't an accountant, after all.

I found the new bags annoying and too small, though Farfarello and Nagi said they were an improvement over the large suitcases. These bags were soft canvas things, lightweight, but deciding what to stuff into them made me cranky. I had precious little left that I could call my own; I didn't want to abandon any of it. Then, as I crammed things into the bags, I realized that I was down to my last pack of smokes. "Hey, Brad, can you get me some more cigarettes?" I asked casually.

"Actually, Schuldig, we need to have a little talk about that."

Oh, no. He wasn't! He couldn't! I looked up, shock on my face.

Brad looked at me with a stern expression. "You're going to have to quit smoking."

"Fuck you!" I leaped to my feet, pointing at him as if my hand were a loaded gun. "You will not take that away from me, Brad! I'll kill someone!"

"I thought you weren't addicted," he said with mild amusement.

"I never said that!"

"You do," Farf commented. "All the time."

"Shut up, Farf! Whose side are you on?" I cried, voice cracking a little.

"Schuldig," Brad addressed me calmly, "I didn't say when. But you will have to give it up sooner than you want to. Get used to the idea. If you lay it down willingly, it will go better for you."

"Hell no, Brad. I'm all about kicking and screaming every inch of the way," I muttered, sensing defeat but not yet willing to concede.

"And, following what we discussed earlier about object readers, I don't want you discarding the butts in public. No flinging them on the ground, no stubbing them out in ashtrays. Flush them, or keep them and we'll dispose of them later." His face indicated that he was dead serious.

I blinked, dumbstruck. "Flush them or keep them? Brad, you're getting weird about things again."

"No, he's not," Farfarello interjected, one beat ahead of Nagi. The Irishman cocked his head to regard me with his good eye and said, "They can find out where you've been, what you were thinking at the time, even…who you were with."

"They're right, Schuldig," Nagi said, voice soft but more certain today than it had been. "If it were me, I would hit us with everything they have. Am I right, Crawford, that they think we have something of theirs?"

Brad turned toward our youngest member and bowed slightly. "I suspect that is the case, Nagi. We didn't just kill the Elders, we stole their power. At least, I'm sure that's what the rest of Esset is thinking right about now. That's partly why they haven't done anything overt yet. They don't know how strong we are."

"Come on, that's crazy!" I blurted. "How the hell could we take their power?"

Farfarello gave me a curious look and said, "By stealing their god, of course."

Nagi shot me a worried glance. Crawford squared his shoulders and said, "Explain."

"It's simple, really," Farfarello said, then took a moment to choose his next words. "It can't die, and it didn't go into the girl. Where is it, then? I touched the old man, when I took his blood and his life." He looked down at his hands. "Where did the beast go?"

Nagi edged closer to me. From his surface thoughts I picked up a delicate panic. I found myself stepping between him and Farfarello. "Far, my friend, that is one hell of a theory," I murmured, trying to assess the Irishman's mental state.

"Isn't it, though? That would explain their caution, wouldn't it?" He looked quite pleased with himself, serene in his own logic. But his thoughts roiled with a powerful tide.

::Brad?::

::Right with you, Schu.:: "Farfarello, I agree that they might think something of the sort, though I do not happen to think that's the reality of it."

"Did I say I believed it myself, Crawford?" Farf asked, voice low. "I may be crazy, but I'm not a fool. There are no other gods, and my destiny lies along another road than their mysticism."

::Shit, he's on the seizure medication, not his antipsychotics!:: I couldn't keep the fear from my thoughts, and I hoped Farf couldn't smell it in my sweat.

::Wouldn't matter anyway,:: Brad told me. ::Meds or not, this line of logic is too determined to play itself out. We need to keep him from spiraling up any higher. Damn, it's over there; distract him, Schu.:: Moving casually, Brad aimed for his suit coat, draped atop his new travel bag.

I knew what he was after, and my fear grew. When Brad had to use the heavy tranquilizer on Farfarello, things were as close to disastrous as they could get without bloodshed. "Hey, Farf?" I tried to get his attention, then realized I had nothing useful to say. His one golden eye stared right through me; I could feel the tension rising to its apex.

"Iie!" Nagi cried out, clutching at his head.

I reached for the boy as he sank to his knees and tears streamed from wide, dilated eyes. Brad turned, hypo in hand, concern pouring off his shields. Only Farfarello remained still, watching everything.