Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 25 ( Chapter 25 )

25

Dreams of war, dreams of liars, dreams of dragon's fire and of things that will bite

"I tried to hold him," Nagi whispered as though the effort caused him great pain. "So you could get his jacket on him." Midnight eyes regarded me without hope. "Crawford-san, I'm sorry."

As Brad slid the needle back out of the pale man's arm, Farfarello rose and walked slowly to the couch. As though the rest of us weren't there, he lay down and, in moments, fell asleep.

"You should have told me, Nagi," Brad chided gently. "Don't hide things like that anymore, all right? I need to know the condition of my team."

Nagi nodded weakly, still holding his head.

Crawford made certain that Farf was out cold, then went to the bathroom and got something from the medicine cabinet. He brought Nagi a couple of the new headache pills and then headed for the kitchen. I could hear the fridge open and the sound of something being poured into a glass.

Nagi frowned at the pills in his hand and looked up at me, eyes wide and sad. "They make me sick, Schu."

I put my hand on his shoulder, glancing up as Brad returned with Nagi's juice. "Brad, can we give him just one of these? Or cut one in half, maybe? They make him sick."

Brad held out his hand, and Nagi gave him the tablets. Taking advantage of an unconscious Farfarello, Brad unpacked one of the sharper knives and cut the pills more or less in half. He wiped off the knife, repacked it, then brought Nagi one of the partial pills. "I'll put these back in the bottle, then. Let's see if that works, all right?"

Nagi nodded and took the medicine, wincing at the bitterness on his tongue. I helped him to his feet, then on into his bedroom. I sat with him in silence until he fell asleep. The pill had knocked him out, even at the lesser dosage. At least he hadn't thrown up.

With a sigh, I let myself out of his room, careful not to make any noise. Brad met me in the living room, Farf's straitjacket in hand. ::Let's make sure for tonight,:: he told me, not risking speech. Farfarello had a notoriously high tolerance for tranquilizers; he could wake at any moment. Together we approached the still figure, Brad holding the jacket out like a shield.

But this time, Farfarello was still unconscious. We wrestled him into the jacket with practiced speed, tucking him back onto the couch in pretty much the same position he had been in before. As we withdrew I saw that Brad's hands were shaking. And I badly wanted a cigarette.

Brad motioned me into his room, and I followed. He left the door open. Moving quickly and quietly, he took one of his guns from under his pillow and unlocked the safety. This would be a sleepless night, for him, anyway. I didn't know if I could stay awake much longer, though the adrenalin rush promised me at least another wakeful hour.

::So what do we do now, Brad?:: I asked mentally. I needed to know if I could use my telepathy without pain. ::Somehow I don't think we can mix antipsychotics and anti-seizure medication. I don't even know what the sedative will do to him at this point, do you? Can we ask the doctor, maybe?::

::Too risky,:: he replied, distracted for a moment.

Glimpses of Farfarello and Nagi flowed through his thoughts, catching on different currents and spinning off like leaves in a river. I pulled back from our mental link, not wanting to be caught up in his visions. They made me dizzy and disoriented; Rosenkreuz teaching held that a telepath reading a precog could get lost in the streams of time. Though it would be an interesting road to madness, the destination didn't thrill me.

::Sorry, what were we talking about?:: Brad asked once the visions had resolved themselves.

::About Farf. Do we ask the doctor, or mix meds at will?::

::We can't discuss his psychosis with the doctor. That information would put us at risk of discovery. Unfortunately, until the seizures fade off some, we'll just have to stay on our toes. More than usual.::

::Fade off? Brad, are you saying he'll get better? That's…impossible.:: I shivered a little. The beast with the deadly head wound, miraculously healed… ::You know what he'll think about that, right?::

::He already does, Schuldig. You've heard him yourself.:: At this point, Brad wanted a stiff drink.

I still wanted a cigarette.

Brad shook his head, picking up on my craving. ::Things are going to get weird, Schuldig. I can't explain any better than that.::

::Weird in what way? Esset psi-hunters weird, or Lamb of God weird?:: I couldn't keep the dread from coloring my mental speech. In some ways, I hoped he meant Esset.

::Schuldig, I can't See much about Farfarello right now. I haven't Seen much about him since well before the tower. It's almost as if he's fallen off my radar. What about you?::

::I can contact him, no problem.:: Then I realized something that I hadn't noticed before. ::But the team link…the team link is gone, Brad!:: I reached on a more subtle level than our conversation, and shook my head. ::He's not there. I can read him like he was a stranger, but only that. I can't see him anymore.:: Sadness rose up in me, threatened to drag me under. I had forged that team link among the four of us early on, before we even came to this country. We were strong together. None of us could get lost, or left behind. With but a flick of attention, each of us could sense the others, no matter where they were.

Now Farfarello was gone. There was Nagi, wounded and sleeping; there was Brad, concerned and weary; but Far, my dear mad friend, felt like a familiar stranger to me now. I hadn't noticed when I had touched his mind before, but speech and reading are not the same as a functioning team bond. Our team bond was something deeper, something instinctive that worked for all of us, even though I was the only telepath. The team bond had made us a family.

I met Brad's eyes and saw my grief echoed there.

::Schu, can you rebuild it?:: he asked gently. ::Once your shields are fixed, and you're back up to strength, do you think you can rebuild the link?::

::You know I'll try, Brad. I…I need him.:: Memories, good and bad, chased one another through my thoughts. I shook them off; I didn't want Brad to see all that.

Brad reached up and cupped my chin. He looked into my eyes, then said aloud, "Get some sleep, Schu. I'll keep watch."

I realized that he meant for me to sleep in his room. Any satisfaction at the thought was swept away by fatigue. For a moment I debated what to wear, as I realized that going nudist would not be my best choice with Farf and Nagi both in distress this night. The old jeans and t-shirt would do for pajamas, then. Without further discussion, I flopped back on the bed; I knew that Brad meant for me to sleep until he could stay awake no longer, so I had to make the best of it.

But sleep wouldn't come. The memories continued tumbling in alternating waves of whimsy and pure terror. Farfarello, poor tortured heart, slave to master Church, origin of the Inquisition. His fascination with Nagi bordered on religious mania. Far needed to protect and destroy those things of God, torn by conflict within his soul, never certain which was the way to redemption. Nagi, his lamb, his offering…

I woke, drenched in sweat and panting. Brad sat beside me on the bed, back propped against the wall, gun trained on the doorway. He watched as I got up and ran my hands through my soggy hair. The feeling of dread from my memory-dream took its damn sweet time leaving.

"You all right, Schuldig?" he asked, voice low.

"Yeah, I'm going to the bathroom," I muttered as I headed to the door.

"Look in on the others while you're up."

I turned toward the couch. Far was still out cold, curled up in his straitjacket. I gave Brad a thumbs-up, then headed over to Nagi's room. The kid looked like he was sleeping well enough. I tugged the covers back up over his thin shoulder and touched his forehead, though his problem had nothing to do with fever. I didn't know what else to do. He wasn't sweaty or hot; I took that as a good sign.

After tending my own needs, I checked on Farf one more time just to be sure. Still out. I returned to Brad's room.

Crawford showed no sign of fatigue, sitting there as alert as before.

"Want some sleep?" I asked as I felt the bed for a non-sweaty area to sit on.

"No, I'm fine, Schu. You sleep some more, I know you need it."

"Actually, I'm kind of awake," I confessed. "Didn't sleep well. Bad dreams."

He looked at me, then nodded. "All right." Brad handed me the gun and took off his shirt, then lay down on the fresh side of the bed. "You know the drill, Schu."

"If he gets out of the restraints, shoot to kill." If I hadn't had nightmares already, the thought of Farfarello ripping out of his straitjacket was enough to frighten sleep away.

"I don't foresee it happening, but stay sharp."