Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 32 ( Chapter 32 )

32

Tell me, is something eluding you, Sunshine?
Is this not what you expected to see?

Tension rose up in me as I neared the apartment. A dozen fears shot through my head, racing for attention. I pushed them away. Either Brad would be here, or he would not. In any case, I couldn't stand out here in front of the door forever. But I still didn't trust my telepathy enough to contact them without broadcasting. Ah, shit.

I reached up and knocked, softly.

As though he had been standing on the other side of the door waiting for me, Brad opened the door, his face a cool mask.

I shuffled in, and stopped in my tracks. All our bags sat near the door, as though ready for travel. I turned to look at Brad.

Dark eyes regarded me with a mixture of fury and sorrow and a number of other emotions I couldn't identify right then. He looked like he hadn't slept. Brad studied my face, my clothes, my bandages, the plastic bag hanging from my fingertips. Voice low and a little raspy, he asked, "Do you believe me now?"

My blood ran cold. He'd known! The calculating bastard had known what I'd run into, and he'd sent me right to them! "Where's Nagi?" I whispered, lips numb with shock, heartbeat pounding in my head.

"Sleeping. We are officially on standby." Brad turned toward the kitchen. I could see the butt of a gun sticking out of his waistband.

"They didn't find us, did they?" I asked, barely able to breathe. "God, tell me I didn't lead them here!"

"If you had, Schuldig," Brad stated, stopping but not turning, "I would have shot you before you ever approached that door."

I stood there, watching him get a bottled water from the fridge, watching him open it and take a drink. As he returned to the living room, I forced my mind into a functional semblance of itself and asked, "Where's the disguise stuff?"

He pointed at one of the smaller bags.

"How much time do we have?"

"It's not imminent, but that could change at any time. Whatever you're going to do, I suggest you hurry."

I grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, I started unpacking the hair dyes, lining them up on the counter. I grabbed the clippers and a pair of scissors, and a hairbrush, then surveyed my find as I dragged the brush through my hair. My hands were throbbing again, adding to my sense of urgency. Dropping the brush, I considered the scissors, then put them back in the bag. My hair was the only thing of me that I'd been able to keep while at Rosenkreuz. The day they stopped hauling me to the barber was the day I'd started letting it grow at will; I was not about to cut it now.

I put the bleaches back in the bag for the same reason: color was one thing, damage was another. Black wouldn't work; into the bag it went. Lighter colors wouldn't do, those were for Farf. One of the boxes showed an interesting punk look the color of seaweed. I considered that, then put the box in with the other failed contestants. I just couldn't imagine me being less conspicuous with a flowing green mane.

The darker brown won. It didn't take long to do, would last a couple of weeks, and could be stripped out again if necessary. The little plastic gloves that came in the package were hard to get over my bandages, but I managed. My hands were shaking with pain and adrenalin. I needed to do this before I lost my nerve, and before anything else went wrong. I hated covering my rebellious red, but I hated even more the thought that it might somehow betray me.

Half an hour later, I rinsed the goo out of my hair and brushed it, enjoying the silkiness the color had left behind. Not a bad tradeoff, I thought. Different color, more manageable. Fuck, I sounded like a commercial. But it looked good, and we had some brown mascara that could be used on my eyebrows and lashes to complete the disguise, so I considered the exercise a success.

When I exited the bathroom, Brad looked up from his chair in the living room and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I put the bag back with the others, then looked for the one that held my clothing. The jeans and my own sneakers got pulled out, the leather pants and damaged shoes got stuffed in. I looked for a shirt that would be easy to get in and out of, but failing to find one I decided Yohji's midi-shirt would do just fine until my shoulder mended.

Then I turned and saw Brad watching me with a scowl. Suddenly I felt naked, standing there in clothes borrowed from another man. Another man? What was I thinking? Brad was my leader, my lover. Yohji was my friend, that's all. So why did I feel so awkward?

I found the bag with Farfarello's gear and dug out one of his sleeveless jackets, then hurried to my room to find it empty except for the bed. With a sigh I realized that I would probably be going without sheets and blankets until we moved out. Well, it could be worse. At least I had a bed. Then again, it could be a whole lot better. Memories of Yohji's sofa floated up to me, and I caught myself smiling.

There was a sharp rap at my door, then Brad's voice: "We're having a meeting, Schuldig. Five minutes."

I got into my own clothes and Farf's vest, rolled Yohji's clothes into a tight roll, then returned to the living room. Avoiding Brad's gaze, I stuffed the clothing into my bag, forcing the zipper shut over it.

Farf watched me, glowering a little. I hurried over to him. His eye seemed a little foggy; not knowing what meds he was on tonight made me cautious. "Hey, mind if I borrow this?" I asked, indicating the vest.

"How'd you manage that?" he asked, indicating my shoulder.

"Long story," I grumbled, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

Nagi sat near Brad and shot me an accusing glare.

"You okay, kiddo?" I asked, throat suddenly dry.

"Yes."

I sighed. This was not off to a good start.

Brad cleared his throat. "Gentlemen," he began, "things have changed. At the signal, we will move out. I don't know when that signal will come. It looks like we have two weeks on the outside."

I wanted to ask what signal? But I knew too well that interrupting Brad Crawford is not wise.

"The yakuza have come through for us time and again, but we're nearly at the end of their hospitality. To stay longer will put them in danger, and in turn endanger us. Their network of watchers will make sure we get ample warning, but will not interfere. If that phone rings," Brad said, pointing to the forbidden telephone on the kitchen bar, "you are to grab your bags and be out that door within three minutes. If I am not here, Schuldig, you will be in charge. Understood?"

My mind refused to register what he'd just said. I gaped like a fool.

"Schuldig, snap out of it!" Brad barked. "This is critical. I've Seen that they will be figuring us out in less than fourteen days. When they do, they will try to surround this apartment. When that happens, our contacts will ring that number, and we will evacuate the premises with very little time to spare. Now that you are back with us, Schuldig, tonight we will load the car with everything we don't immediately need. Leave only one bag per man. I will be relying on you to help get our team into that car and out of the area when the time comes. Do you understand me?"

I nodded. "Ja, I mean, yeah, I understand," I stammered. No wonder he hadn't wanted that phone to ring! It was a portent to disaster.

"We are not, however, going to sit here and wait for the signal. There are things we need to do outside this apartment. Do the two of you still remember that phone number I gave you?" Brad looked at me, then at Nagi.

"Hai, Crawford-san." Nagi proceeded to rattle off the number, with a sidelong glance at me.

I concentrated on memorizing it for just the moment necessary, then repeated it back, voice tight.

Brad gave me an odd look, then said, "At this time, if you notice anything out of the ordinary, you are to call that number. A car will pick you up and deliver you to our next safe house."

I prayed that I was in the apartment when that call came, or that I was with Nagi or Brad and didn't have to remember that damn number. Already it had slipped out of my head like it was greased.

"Now, Schuldig." Brad addressed me directly, eyes sharp. "I understand you have made your own contacts in this neighborhood. I trust they are reliable?"

My face flushed as I realized I had been played by the master. He knew I'd been with Yohji, he knew Yohji was Kritiker, he didn't like it personally, but professionally…the strategy was sound. "Yeah," I grunted. "They're reliable."

"Good." He made eye contact with me and held it. "If you are alone outside this apartment, and through the team link you discover that we are leaving, use your contacts and lay low. You're the one they're looking for now, the one they are most likely to find. They think that if they find our telepath, they will have the location of the team. You will of course forgive me for not telling you this before." Crawford adjusted his glasses with a smirk.

I struggled to hold back the anger and resentment I felt toward him, a man I had loved for years, in silence and in secret, and now he was using me as if I were nothing to him. I tried to find something to say. "Nice thought, if the team link was sound," I snarled.

"I suggest you work on it, then," Crawford said, voice dangerously smooth.

"How's your head, kid?" I asked, glaring at Nagi. "We have to fix the connection, you ready?"

Nagi gave Brad a pained look. "It's been better," he murmured, clearly hoping to get a reprieve.

"I am sorry, Nagi," Crawford addressed him directly, "but I need the link solid. As solid as it can get, anyway. Work with him for a little while tonight. Stop before it gets too painful."

"Hai."

With that, the meeting adjourned. Crawford went to his room and shut the door, leaving the three of us to our own discussion.

"You scared me," Nagi stated, fixing my gaze with his deep midnight eyes. "I thought they'd got you, and I couldn't do anything to stop them."

"Did they follow you at all?" I had to know, though I suspected they had not.

"Not that I know of. But don't do that again." Pain shimmered in those incredible eyes as he whispered, "Don't leave me alone again."

My heart ached. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. There was nothing I could do." I wasn't sure which incident I was referring to; in a way, it fit his entire life.

"Schuldig." Farf's voice came stronger than it had been. He was throwing off the medication, as he tended to do, and the grogginess faded quickly. "Start with me. I can't feel you in my head, if you're not mucking about on purpose. I don't like it."

Nagi took the opportunity to leave the room, and I was alone with Farfarello. I sighed and tried to relax, to find the inner whisper that was our team bond. As I'd noticed before, the thread that was Farfarello was no longer there. I reached out to his mind, found the familiar patterns, and began weaving a new thread, linking it into the tapestry that was Schwarz.

::Promise me something.:: Far's mental voice sounded flat and emotionless tonight. ::Promise me that you will let no one harm the boy.::

::We're a team, Far,:: I stated, ::of course I'll protect him.::

::I mean, even if it's me.::

I looked into his eye, saw fear within. ::Far, what's wrong?::

::I'm wrong, that's what it is. If I become a danger to the team…::

::Far, no. Absolutely not.:: I put my hands on his shoulders, wincing a little as my abused palms took in the solidness of him. ::We stay together. Period. Brad promised me,:: I added, more to convince myself than for his benefit.

He raised his hands to cup the back of my head, keeping eye contact. His mind sang in that peculiarly coherent manner that I'd never encountered in anyone but him, the logic of the damned. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. ::Do you promise?::

I hesitated.

Far looked away. "I see," he whispered. "You can't, can you. Because you don't believe it yourself."

"Far…"

"No, Schuldig. Don't play sweet with me." He glared at me, frustration and anger turning his eye a deep copper. "We are all walking dead men, some more than others. So are they, they just don't know it yet. Whatever happens, know that I have loved you most. You've been like a brother to me, a friend, and a lover. All the best, and damn little of the worst."

"Far, please, what are you trying to say?" I asked. Something about his manner bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Voice soft, Farfarello stated, "I'm losing my mind, Schuldig. More than before. I can feel the edges coming undone, and I can't stop it. Because I have loved you, you must promise that you will stop me before I harm Crawford, or the boy. Do not allow me to be the death of Schwarz."

I felt myself nod. "Okay, I promise, Far. I will stop you before you hurt the team, if it ever comes to that. But before that time comes, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you alive, and as sane as you've ever been." I almost laughed; the thought had transcended into the absurd, for me.

As if he'd picked it up from our link, Far said, "You laugh, and I'll bite you."

I leaned down and embraced this man, this crazed, dangerous man who saw me as one of his three anchors in this world. Pressing against him, I relaxed and breathed in his scent. Not sandalwood tonight, instead there was a hint of animal musk about him, pungent and masculine. Not a rational smell, for him. I'd come to know the subtleties of his chemistry, and his body odor was a very accurate measure of his madness.

Powerful arms wrapped around me, holding me close. He pulled me off my feet and into his lap, turning me easily without offending my damaged shoulder. I let my mind drift against his, riding the gentle swell of his thoughts. They weren't terribly disordered tonight. He was probably going into a logic-induced rage soon, I knew. But at the moment, he was just Far, my weird violent friend.

Far kissed me on the mouth, his lips full and soft upon mine. I moaned a little. That man had the most delicious kiss! He had damn little inhibition in anything, and his passions expressed themselves with an almost innocent ferocity. I deepened the kiss, tasting his mouth.

Gently, slowly, Far disengaged from the kiss and set me on my feet, then rose to stand in front of me. One hand on the small of my back, the other behind my head, he claimed my mouth again, drawing out soft moans and whimpers from my throat. I was falling into him, the depth of his psyche pulling me under until I reached a primal understanding of his mind. With brilliant clarity, the essence that was Farfarello, that had once been a boy named Jei, swirled around my mind, and madness became reason.

Coolness where there had been heat brought me back to my own head. I blinked, momentarily confused.

Far stood before me, smiling slightly. He watched me struggle with my own anchors for a moment, as I tried to confirm what was my own and what had been his. Then he asked, "How's the link?"

A disappointed moan escaped my lips. I had missed the rough passion of this man, something we had so casually shared before, in the days of high living and security. I still craved him. My fingers drifted upward to touch my mouth as my body tried to remember his kiss for a few moments longer.

"I won't, now. I won't trespass there," he stated, his tone gentle but firm. "You should have figured that out."

I regarded him with puzzled eyes as the lingering swirl of his madness slowly left me.

"You're dangerous," Far whispered, watching me, "because you're honest, Schu. You're dangerous because you don't know what you want. You want Crawford, and you want me, and you want…someone else. You won't always get your way, and I won't take what isn't mine. But you'll need to make up your mind while you still have one to make. Don't worry, though. I'll always listen if you need to scream."

Hot frustration coursed through me, made molten by the brush with Farfarello's mind. I gasped, then felt everything snap back into place as I became wholly me again. Damn, I always went too far in with him. Far, too far… His words echoed in my head. I sighed. "You are a wiser man than I am, Far. Though that comes as no surprise."

"You're right, it doesn't," he said with a grin. "You're about as wise as a starving man. There comes a time when you can't listen to your head anymore, or you'll die for lack of nourishment. You live on that borderline. Always have." Gentle hands rose to my injured shoulder. He probed cautiously. "Keep the vest. I'd hate to see you try a real shirt just yet. Actually, it would be funny as hell, but the cursing would get Crawford angry, and that's losing its charm of late."

I tested the link I'd reestablished, and found it weaker than I'd like. I had to remind myself that this was a pretty decent start, really. When we'd first set up our team link, it had taken several sessions and everyone had headaches by the time it was done. "You reading to Nagi tonight?" I asked aloud, not wanting to talk about my misadventure of the previous night, and hoping his inspection of my arm was not a prelude to questions.

He looked down and murmured, "No, I don't think so. He's a little afraid of me these last few days. That's why I wanted you to promise. Don't forget, you did promise!" Agitation rose up in him, and he gripped my shoulders tightly.

I let out a sharp gasp of pain. Far blinked, then released his hold on me.

"You promised." That said, he turned and strode to the bathroom, leaving me alone with a rumpled couch and a black and silent television.

And pain. Heaps of pain, radiating from my shoulder. I gritted my teeth and went to the kitchen in search of anything to take pills with. Tap water would do, if there was nothing in the fridge. But we still had a modest supply of bottled water, so I grabbed one and went back to our bags, hoping to find something quickly.

All I found was the ibuprofen and penicillin Yohji had given me. Too bad there wasn't any codeine; Far really didn't know his own strength, sometimes. I took some of the medicine, all rendered foul-smelling and vile-tasting by the antibiotic capsules, and washed it down with a grimace.

"Schuldig."