Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 52 ( Chapter 52 )

52

 

But every morning, when the light

Comes creeping in around my eyes

Another future falls behind the one I had in mind

 

The last two weeks have been among the longest of my life. I gazed up at the clear blue sky that would soon surround our slender plane and carry us north and eastward, back to the land of the rising sun.

 

By the time we had reached Hong Kong, about a week after leaving Holiday Inn Wuhan, Brad could see shadows and movement. By the time we reached Singapore, he could see colors. And now, as we were leaving Bangkok, he could read fine print again. He was still taking the warfarin, though we were nearly out of tablets; we only had enough for one more week, and Brad insisted that we procure more, just in case. We weren't even sure that the medicine had solved the problem, or if it had simply gone away on its own.

 

We still had the cobra venom; Nagi was going to do more research on that before deciding what to do with it. Far thought it would be cool to carry some in a Borgia ring, just to say he'd done it. He's seen too many old movies.

 

Oh, and I'd finally given up on the soup/tea. I couldn't gag down more than a couple of cups, and none of the others got past the first taste.

 

Now we were on our way to Osaka. We had kept up our disguises, scattered random trails for the object readers, and taken care to only show up on select security cameras. Though Nagi's ability to lift and move things was compromised, his more passive effect on electronics seemed unharmed, and he scrambled the necessary signals whenever Brad told him to. We would seem to appear and disappear from Esset scrutiny like ghosts.

 

Brad himself kept an especially tight lock on his shields these past few days. He had made a big show of aiming for Indonesia, and at the last second veered back to Thailand, to board a plane to Japan.

 

Japan. Years ago, when I had first gone to that country, I hadn't known what I was getting into, though I hadn't been given a choice in the assignment. The culture shock had been terrible. More recently, I had dreaded the crush of people there; my shields had dissolved and left me too vulnerable. But now, I found myself watching Farfarello and hoping to hell Brad knew what he was doing, taking the madman back to the land of Weiß.

 

To my right, Brad checked his watch, and looked back out the window. I glanced down at my watch almost as a reflex.

 

When had I started to think like Crawford?

 

I sighed and closed my eyes a moment. On our drive from Wuhan to Hong Kong, I had gotten very little sleep, and way too much time to think.

 

Damn, I hated introspection.

 

Just a few weeks ago, my world had threatened to cave in when I ran out of cigarettes. I had thought nothing of flaunting Brad's concerns and going off alone, though I had endangered Nagi in the process. Ever since Rosenkreuz I had become more and more like a spoiled princess, thinking only of my own needs and wants and to hell with the rest of the world.

 

But now, as I waited with my team at this little airfield in Thailand, I recognized a change in me. I looked back on the past two weeks and sought the point of difference. While Crawford had been blind, and Far on the edge of his madness, I had at some time wondered what I would do without them. What Nagi would do without us. My own petty concerns had crumbled into dust, and I found myself looking at our lives a little differently.

 

And suddenly I had understood Brad Crawford a little better than I'd expected to.

 

Brad would never idly endanger his team. Period. Yet he had maneuvered Schwarz to be present at the pivotal moment when Esset could be cracked like a diamond.

 

He had expected us all to die there, together. It would have been a relatively easy and quick death, not one to dread, as far as such things might go. He had never expected us to live on, to face the wrath of a wounded Esset. Death now would be neither easy nor quick; they would never show such mercy to traitors.

 

Something had moved Brad Crawford to take on the very organization that he had served. That something was not a drive for freedom. To a man like him, the freedom of the grave is not a suitable answer. No, there was some other reason Crawford had aimed a killing blow at Esset, and mere bad luck we and it had survived the encounter.

 

That reason drove him still.

 

And, it was important enough that he would lay all our lives on the line to see Esset fall.

 

This wasn't a holiday, I'd finally gotten that through my head, and it wasn't hide-and-seek, either. Though the other side had been maddeningly quiet, it wasn't done with us by any means. No, Esset had to be gathering information and devising a means to deal with us, before we could do any more damage.

 

That was the key: whether Esset were hunting us or no, Brad Crawford wasn't done with them yet.

 

::Schuldig.:: Brad's mental voice cut in on my reverie. ::The plane is here.::

 

We boarded the small jet in silence, Far seeking out the emergency exit door on one side and Nagi opposite him. I sat beside the Irishman, noticing unhappily that the plane was so narrow that I could reach across the aisle and touch Brad's shoulder. But Crawford said nothing, showed no sign of discomfort in either his expression or his thoughts. He merely checked his watch, then leaned back and closed his eyes.

 

I kept tabs on his condition throughout the flight, not only concerned about his being in such a small space but not sure if there might be any bad effects from the blood thinner to worry about. By the time we landed, he showed no ill effects, and I wanted a cigarette, though not so badly as I used to.

 

When Brad was settled behind the wheel of our rental car, he said, “We'll only be here for about a week. Change hair color, clothes, everything. This time, we leave no physical traces; everything we discard, we burn.”

 

“What about the car?” I asked, noticing that Crawford hadn't bothered to wear gloves or anything.

 

He glanced at me and said, “That includes the car.”

 

“So where are we staying?” Nagi asked, his voice a little worried.

 

Brad smiled. “Someplace we've stayed before, of course. There's a hotel not far from here. We've used it in the past. Our traces there should still be fresh enough to confuse things. Schuldig, you will ensure that the staff do not recognize us.”

 

Over the next couple of hours, we got settled in at the hotel, purchased more hair dye kits, and located the nearest trash incinerator.

 

Farfarello kept staring out the window, but I knew these windows were damn hard to see through from the other side, so I left him alone. I stripped the brown color from my hair, frowning a little at the rough texture left behind, but relieved to see an approximation of my rebellious red. I'd worn it proudly through my years at Rosenkreuz, ever since they'd called me imperfect because of it. Some might have thought it simple vanity, but it had been my best form of defiance in that hellhole.

 

And one thing was for certain: Schwarz was all about defiance.

 

I smiled to myself as I selected another shade of red that, while darker than my own, was still in the “imperfection” range. It would baffle those looking for a lighter orange, and that was all I really needed it to do.

 

A light touch on my shoulder caught my attention, and I turned, still slathering the color gel into my hair. Brad regarded me with calm eyes. “Schu, if there's anything you need to do while we're here, I suggest you do it soon. Do you understand me?”

 

My voice wouldn't work for a moment. Then I whispered, “Thank you, Brad. I'll be careful.”

 

“You'd better. We need you.” He turned away and left me with my own thoughts.

 

I had stashed my memories of Yohji in the back of my mind, filing him away as a wonderful and brief affair. Now I had a chance to see him again, if I could manage it, and at least tell him I was still safe. It had bothered me that I'd had to leave Japan without saying goodbye; he'd probably been quite worried. He just seemed that kind of person.

 

Then I remembered the past two weeks, and that sense of responsibility that had taken root in my psyche. God, was I really thinking about running to another man's bed, after all we'd been through?

 

A wet trickle down my forehead brought me back to the moment, and I wiped at the gel with the back of my wrist. Crimson seeped into the plastic glove and stained the scars left by a monofilament wire, making them look like they were freshly bleeding. I quickly finished applying the color and peeled off the gloves, hoping to wash the stuff off my hand before it stained.

 

“…if there's anything you need to do while we're here, I suggest you do it soon. Do you understand me?”

 

Kritiker.

 

I glanced over at Brad. He was on the phone, free hand in his pocket, his face toward the window. Is that what he meant? Did he want me to bring us to Kritiker? Yohji still had connections, he had to; an organization that willingly let its agents retire had to have some way they could be recalled, right? If something went wrong or they needed help, the door had to swing both ways.

 

Somehow I didn't think that Yohji had gone to Kritiker with our conversations, he didn't seem the type to betray a confidence like that, but you never know. If he thought his team, his family, were in danger, he would protect them before me for certain.

 

But, Brad had said it was not the time.

 

Then again, that had been two weeks ago.

 

Damn it.

 

Think, Schuldig, think! We were trying to elude precognitives and clairvoyants along with the more immediate sorts like `paths and object readers. Brad's mind was so logical; would he leave more traces for them to follow because of it? My thoughts were chaotic, nearly random half the time; I usually didn't know what I was going to do until I did it. That way, other's thoughts didn't have the chance to sink in and influence my actions.

 

I couldn't ask Brad his intentions.

 

I couldn't plan my own moves ahead of time.

 

I would visit Yohji for an evening of talk and coffee, and let things fall as they may.

 

No, wait… That first day, back on the beach, Brad had said something about this. It was a war, a war Kritiker was not ready for.

 

I nodded at myself in the mirror. I knew what I had to do, and I was pretty sure it was what Brad had intended all along.

 

Within the hour, I was boarding the train for Tokyo.