Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 35 ( Chapter 35 )

35

what are you running from?

Sleep came to me in a moldy shroud, with the face of the night hag. I lay still, eyes shut tight and listening to my heartbeat echo against silent headphones. The batteries must have given out, leaving me alone with my ghosts. God damn, not a good night, I thought, trying to convince myself that there was no spectre waiting for me to open my eyes. And just maybe, if I lay there long enough with my eyes closed, real dreamless sleep would carry me to safer places.

Early morning sunlight intruded on my sleep, sent fragmented nightmares back to the depths of my psyche once more. I blinked a crusty eye at the merciful yet highly offensive brightness. My head felt like I'd tied one on last night. Damn psi backlash hangover.

When I opened my door, I found a bottle of water and a bottle of headache pills sitting outside. Lying next to them was a gun in a lightweight shoulder rig. I frowned.

"I'm giving you your sidearm back," Brad stated in a strong voice from the direction of the kitchen. "I don't foresee anything happening directly, but I want you to have it."

I took the weapon into my room, then went out to my bags. "Maybe we should unpack again, Brad," I grumbled. "This is getting old."

After dragging one of the bags back to my room and dumping it out on the bed, I tried to find street clothes that would make the holster less noticeable. Then I remembered my shoulder. Maybe I could get into a t-shirt, and wear Farf's sleeveless jacket over it, I thought. That ended up being more difficult than I'd imagined. Spying Yohji's midi-shirt, I slipped it on instead, then slung the holster into place. Even though the holster was damn scratchy on my skin, something about having a gun nestled against my ribs gave me comfort. I may not be the best shot, but I was better at that than hand-to-hand, especially now.

"Ah, shit!" I growled at myself. I'm a right-handed draw, and my shoulder didn't want to flex that way without an argument. With effort and no small amount of pain, I managed to wrestle the gun out of the holster, though my arm shook too much to even bother aiming it. With a mental snarl, I unfastened the holster and studied it.

It was reversible. Of course. Brad knew I'd have to go left-handed for a while, and this told me my shoulder was going to take its damn sweet time.

Once I got everything situated again, the gun resting under my wounded shoulder, I tried the vest for effect. It fit over the holster admirably. On impulse, I grabbed my disc player. It still had that weird new disc in it. I slid it into one of the vest's oversized pockets, then folded my headphones and stuffed them in with it. Whatever the day held in store, I was determined to be ready.

Now that I was dressed for action, I went in search of Brad. I couldn't help but think about the past twenty-four hours. If that's the kind of hell he'd been enduring in silence, it was no wonder he'd been running hot and cold. I knew that precognitives usually end about as badly as telepaths, statistically speaking. We could both look forward to eventually going stark raving mad, if we didn't commit suicide first. Brad also had the prospect of blindness ahead of him, while I might lose my mind literally and fall into someone else's head for good. Not pleasant thoughts, but the harder I tried not to think about them, the more insistent they became. I could almost hear one of my instructors from Rosenkreuz explaining the warning signs of impending breakdown; with a start, I realized that Brad and I were both halfway there.

Brad was in the kitchen, cooking something involving eggs. I came in and rummaged in the fridge for some juice, though what I really wanted was to rummage through Brad's head and see which one of us was crazier.

"Before you say it, no, I'm not." Brad regarded me with calm eyes. "I do know the warning signs as well as you do, and you're not, either. This is just a difficult time for the team, Schuldig. We'll get through this."

"Damn, am I leaking again?" I muttered, becoming quite aggravated with myself.

Brad smiled and said, "No, you're just predictable."

"So, what's up, doc?" I asked with a slight grin, hoping he hadn't foreseen that. Then, more seriously: "Why do I need the gun?"

He didn't meet my eyes as he said, "I have some business I need to attend to a few days from now. I'll be taking Farfarello with me."

I almost dropped my drink. "Business? What the hell kind of business? How long are you planning to be gone? I don't like this, Brad! Not one damn bit!"

"It is not," he stated, "for you to like, Schuldig. It is, however, something that cannot be delayed any longer. And unfortunately, I can't tell you any more until I get back."

"Fuck you, Brad! You tell me now!" This couldn't be happening, he'd promised he wouldn't leave me behind!

"Schu," Brad said, voice low and calm, "Nagi can't travel yet, and I won't leave him here alone. I need a bodyguard, and I won't leave Farfarello with Nagi. Do you understand me?"

I wilted, all anger draining away into something clammy and cold. "Where will you be?"

"I can't risk saying it. Just trust me, I've Seen my return to Japan. But I'm running out of time. I'll explain everything later." He set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. "Now, for today, just put the whole thing out of your thoughts. I'll tell you when I'm going, and you can worry then. At the moment, I need you to escort Nagi out to another public access terminal."

Breakfast had lost what little appeal it had initially had. I gave him the plate back and asked, "When do you want us to go?"

"They should be open by the time you get there."

Nagi received me at his door already dressed for public view. Today he wore no makeup, and his hair was an unembellished black. He had on a student uniform, making him look like any other young teenager. As long as no one noticed his eyes.

"Chibi, ever think of wearing colored contact lenses?" I asked in jest.

"Crawford's already ordered some."

I sighed. "For everyone?" The thought of putting something on my eyeball squicked me right the hell out.

"Don't be such a child, Schuldig," Nagi scolded. "We'll do what Crawford tells us to do."

"And we'll like it, right?"

"Schu," Brad called, "a moment?"

I tuned in to his thought pattern. ::Ja, Brad?::

I could feel his mental headshake. ::Schuldig, be careful. Don't go looking for trouble. If you feel someone looking for you…:: He paused, and I picked up an image from Farf's dinosaur movie. ::If you feel someone looking, stay very, very still. If that doesn't work, run like hell. But don't reach out and look for them first, or you might find them today.::

I took a deep breath and nodded, grateful that this conversation was not out loud. I didn't think Nagi would trust me too well if he heard any of it. ::Understood, Brad. I'll be a good little mammal and hide.::

Aloud Brad said, "Be safe, you two."

We left the apartment in silence. Again I followed behind Nagi, modifying the thoughts of passersby as needed.

As we neared the little bakery, my stomach growled. ::Hey, chibi?::

::Schuldig.::

::Go in there and buy me something.::

I didn't have to see him roll his eyes. ::Schuldig, we're supposed to be working.::

::And if I don't eat, someone will hear my stomach. Come on, chibi, please?:: I wheedled, only partially out of hunger; I wanted to see if I could push him.

Nagi heaved a sigh and turned toward the bakery. ::Okay, but you have to keep the trash in your pocket or something. No fingerprints, remember?::

I followed him in and pointed out which treat I wanted. The lady at the counter smiled at Nagi, thinking he was just the cutest little boy she'd seen in days. I made sure she thought he was a good deal younger than he really was, and that she'd remember his eyes as unremarkable brown.

Nagi managed to pass me the bun without being noticed, and I tore into it ravenously. We continued on our way to the library, and its anonymous internet access. I did manage to finish my food before going in, and stuffed the wrapper into another large pocket.

Over the next hour or so, Nagi searched the internet for Brad's needed information. I didn't know exactly what he was after, and I didn't care. My job was guarding Nagi, and right now it was boring as hell. Being unnoticed did not suit me, but I did it well, for Nagi's sake. I resisted the temptation to search for that other telepath; Brad would kill me if the Esset operative didn't.

As soon as he indicated he was finished, we made our way back toward the apartment. About halfway there, I caught wind of something, not quite a telepathic search, but something. ::Hold up, chibi,:: I sent. This didn't feel right. ::Turn here, would you?::

Nagi didn't ask; he trusted that tone from me and obeyed without hesitation. ::Where next, Schu?::

I guided him through a series of alleys and back streets until I thought we were both lost. Nagi picked up that thought and sent a disgusted grumble. ::I don't get lost, Schuldig. Are we going back now?::

Without sending my mind out searching, I had no way of knowing if we were being watched, or followed, or merely passing too close to someone dangerous, and that bothered me. ::Not yet, kiddo.:: I looked around for someplace to lie low. ::Hey, go into the bookstore.::

As we entered the shop, I thought about something I'd picked up in Rosenkreuz: for every obvious entrance, find four exits. From the shopkeeper's mind I learned that there was one in back leading to an alley, and stairs up to an apartment with a fire escape into the same alley. Count the front door as an exit, and we could always go up to the rooftops. No, on second thought I vetoed that one: they watched the skyline.

::Schuldig?::

::Huh?::

::You okay? You're tense.:: Nagi watched me closely.

::Yeah, kiddo. Just trying to make sure we don't get trapped in here.::

::If we do, I'll bring the building down,:: he informed me with no concession to his injuries. ::Hell, I'll tear the city down. They won't take me back there, Schu. I'll die first.::

::I won't let them get you.:: I stood a little closer to him, wishing I could hold him and give him some reassurance. Then again, I had to remember that Nagi wasn't just a kid, he was a trained Esset operative and a member of Schwarz.

Damn, if I could just search around and see if there was anyone nearby!

Nagi tried to act casual, browsing among the books. I paced, trying to figure out what to do next. Then I stopped, nearly shouting at myself for being an idiot. ::Brad? Can you hear me?::

The reply came, faint with distance, but unmistakably Brad. ::I hear you, Schuldig. What's wrong?::

::I thought we were about to run into something, so Nagi and I are holed up in a bookstore. Can you See anything? Can we get back to the apartment?::

::One moment.:: Brad broke the connection.

I waited, then waited some more. I didn't want to reestablish the link while he was trying to push his visions. That would leave me disoriented and I couldn't risk being less than sharp. When I felt I had waited long enough, I sent, ::Anything?::

::No, but make it quick. Leave now. Buy nothing.::

I let the link with Brad remain active as I turned my attention to Nagi; I had to test it, if it was ever to be useful to us again. ::Chibi, go. Now. Be cool. Head straight home.::

Nagi put down the book he'd been pretending to look at, checked his watch, grumbled something about being late and hurried out, bowing apologetically to the shopkeeper. He kept up the late student act, alternately looking at his watch and muttering to himself. It occurred to me that I didn't even know the school schedule anymore; I hoped Nagi knew his own cover well enough for the both of us. Then again, if he didn't, he wouldn't have worn the school uniform today. I followed, keeping us as unseen as possible.

We made it to the apartment. As Brad opened the door, I felt a thin chill of fear: someone was behind me.

I grabbed my gun and whirled around, dropping to a crouch and aiming upward.

The hallway was empty.

I drew a deep, shuddering breath and backed into the apartment. Brad secured the door behind me.

::Schuldig, what the hell was that about?:: Brad asked.

That's right, I hadn't closed down the psi-link. At least that was working right, even if my instincts were out of whack. ::I felt someone there, Brad.::

::Don't jump at shadows, it'll drive you crazy,:: Brad stated. ::But I have to admit, that was a pretty clean left-handed fast-draw.::

::Screw you, Brad.:: The adrenalin faded from my blood, leaving me weak and shaky. "Are we done for the day? Because I could damn well use a drink right now."

"Yes, but you're not drinking here," Brad informed me, pulling an ATM card out of his pocket.

"Beg pardon?"

He handed me the card, then removed a gel pen from his pocket, uncapping it with his teeth. He took hold of my left wrist and turned my hand palm-up. With precise strokes, he wrote a number on my forearm.

"That's sick, Brad. Sick."

Brad recapped the pen with a snap and said, "Bite me, Schuldig. I want you to drain that account, then waste some time."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, I thought you just said I could go shopping," I quipped, not sure what was going on.

Brad adjusted his glasses, then said, "I need you to be away from the apartment for a little while."

He let his shields down just enough that I caught a glimpse of yakuza identity brokers. ::Starting a little game of Hide the German, Brad?:: I didn't like this. In my mind, if they were the sort of people who wouldn't deal with me in the room, they were the sort to betray us.

::Schuldig, they won't betray us. Not today, anyway,:: Brad added, removing any soothing effect from his first statement. ::But thank you for illustrating my point. You're still projecting. And I know you're not being lazy. You're still off-stride, and you need to get back on-stride before too much more time passes. I can't afford for you to pick up what we will be discussing today. If that were to leak out, it would be worse than bad.::

I sighed. I couldn't argue with that. "All right, I'm a wreck. What's that they say, admitting you have a problem is the first step? Eleven more to go, right?"

"Telepaths Anonymous?" Farf watched from his vantage point on the couch. "Don't think it'll help you quit, but suit yourself."

In spite of himself, Brad smiled a little. Then he looked into my eyes, and for a moment I felt the pull and drift of his Sight as it continued its hectic rush.

"Brad, are you okay?" I asked, voice soft. "Last night, you were dreaming…"

Those dark eyes closed as he bowed his head. "Drop it, Schu."

"Aw, Brad…"

Brad looked up, his expression stern. "I said drop it."

I shut my mouth. I'd been about to tell him about my nightmares, the vaguely forgotten horrors and mindless fears that had caught up with me lately. But even that wouldn't get him to talk about his dreams. Not Brad Crawford. I nodded mutely, then said, "How long do I need to chill?"

He paused, considering. Then his eyes darkened and he frowned. Brad took off his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "As long as you like," he whispered. "But not more than two days."

"Two days?" I blurted. "Brad, no, I don't want to stay away from the team that long!"

Brad gave me a look of mingled pain and anger and said, "But you will, Schuldig."

I reached out to touch his arm, wanting to hold him. Brad pulled back with a shake of his head. "Brad, why?" I asked, not understanding at all.

"Just find a way to blow some money and some time, and be back within forty-eight hours. All right?" Brad looked like a man wrestling with the devil. "Be safe. And don't get caught." He regained his composure, put his glasses back on, adjusted them with casual grace. "Upon your return, you will have a new legal identity. Be thankful. Now go, before I find a reason to stop you."

I hesitated, and in that moment Brad grabbed my arms and pulled me to him for a rough and hasty kiss. Then he released me and repeated, "Be safe, Schu. I'll see you in two days."

With a sigh I turned toward the door and let myself out. I could still taste him on my lips.