Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 53 ( Chapter 53 )

53

 

Hours of forever. Coming all together

At the crossroads of a minute.

And you and me were in it

 

By the time the train pulled in at the Tokyo station, I knew that Esset had not given up: I could feel the sweep of another telepath like a faint searchlight. My shields were now as strong as they'd ever been, perhaps even stronger, so I didn't worry about him finding me through his gift alone. I concentrated on blending in with a small herd of tourists as I made my way to the car rental counter.

 

Some fake documents and a wad of cash later, and I was helping myself to a nondescript little sedan. I didn't look forward to having to dispose of the damn thing, but it was better than waiting for a bus.

 

The sense of tension in the air was starting to get to me. Brad's predictions kept echoing in my head; our window of invisibility was closing, if it hadn't shut already. Even in China, I had sensed someone looking for me, though it had been brief and rather distant. They hadn't quite picked up our trail yet, but I knew that Brad was right and it was really only a matter of time before one of us screwed up, or one of them got lucky.

 

I kept a tight lock on my thoughts as I drove. While I didn't dare send out my own telepathic search, I visually scanned every other person I saw, wondering if they were more than they seemed.

 

I parked near the bar, then started walking. If anyone had followed the car, at least it wouldn't lead them to Yohji's apartment.

 

When I stood at his door, I knew exactly what I wanted to say to him.

 

When he opened the door, I forgot all of it.

 

Yohji blinked in mild surprise, then grinned and invited me inside. Distantly I noticed that he locked the door behind me. Strange, how this place felt like home to me, a home I hadn't realized I'd missed until my return to it.

 

“I wondered what had happened to you,” Yohji said, coming up behind me. I could barely hear him over the television. “Everything all right?”

 

His breath stirred the hair behind my ear, and I shivered a little in spite of myself. I stopped looking around at the familiar room, the little flower in its black dish on the windowsill, and turned toward him. Standing so close, I could feel the heat of his body against mine, and it was incredibly distracting. “Yeah,” I murmured. “So far so good.”

 

Yohji winked, then turned to go into the kitchen. “You want a beer?”

 

“Sounds great!” I tried to get my thoughts back in order. Damn it, this wasn't a social call, no matter how much I wanted it to be one. Brad's vague comments and warnings told me we'd need allies, and I had to do this right. I accepted the chilled can and thanked him, then said, “Hey, can we talk a bit?”

 

Yohji regarded me with those sharp, intelligent eyes, then nodded. “Sure. No problem.” He led the way to the couch and flopped down. “What's up?”

 

I joined him on the couch, sipping my beer before answering him. “What do you know about Esset?”

 

“Personally, or professionally?” he retorted, his manner turning wary.

 

“Weiß.” I watched him, trying to estimate his mood without searching his thoughts. If he felt me rummaging through his mind he wouldn't trust me, and then he wouldn't listen to anything I told him.

 

Yohji paused to light a cigarette and take a deep drag on it. “Not much,” he stated. “They're big. Evidently have a thing for special talents, mind reading, demon summoning, things like that. They treat their operatives like property, from what I hear. Like weapons. Am I missing anything?”

 

“They know about Kritiker,” I stated.

 

“I'm not Kritiker anymore, Schuldig,” Yohji said firmly. “You know that.”

 

“You're the only one I can tell. What you do with it is up to you.”

 

We sat there watching each other for several tense moments. I couldn't warn him about Far without warning him about the greater danger of Esset. It would be like warning a chicken coop of the weasel while neglecting to tell them about the hungry farmer: the weasel might never arrive, but with the farmer it was only a matter of time. Yohji had to know, whether to tell his friends in Kritiker or just to save himself I didn't care. This was my one chance to do the right thing; I didn't want to waste it.

 

Someone knocked on the door.

 

I leaped up and reached for my gun, resisting the urge to plow into Yohji's mind and find out if he'd betrayed me: I couldn't keep living the paranoia, I had to trust someone. I didn't dare scan the newcomer; right now I was telepathically invisible, but if I peeked…

 

Yohji leaned close and whispered, “Bedroom. There's a fire escape if you need it.”

 

I slipped into his bedroom as he strode to the door. Again I fought down the trained impulse to rape out his mind, to know what the fuck was going on. Bracing myself near the window, I forced myself to calm the hell down and just listen.

 

Yohji was talking in low tones, saying something about this not being a good time. It sounded like he was talking to a woman.

 

When I heard the door close and the lock turn once more, I realized I'd been holding my breath. Yohji peeked into the bedroom and smiled when he saw that I hadn't fled out the window. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I forgot that this was Tuesday.”

 

“You have them arranged on a calendar?” I asked, incredulous.

 

Yohji shrugged. “Have to do something to keep them separate, you know,” he said with a grin.

 

I shook my head and started toward the living room.

 

Yohji stopped me with one firm hand on my arm. He leaned close and whispered, “They'd have been shocked to know I had a man hiding in my bedroom.” For a moment I considered walking right out of there, away from this brash playboy who I'd thought was a little less foolhardy than that. Then he drew me close to him and whispered against my ear. “There's a good sound baffle between us and anyone in the hall. Besides, I left the TV on. Thank you for the warning. Is there anything specific, or just in general?”

 

I sighed in relief and let my arms wrap around his waist as I whispered back, “It's going to be a war. I don't know exactly what they want, but you're not ready for it. Whatever it is.”

 

His hair tickled my cheek as he nodded. Then he murmured, “Warnings aren't usually free. What's the catch?”

 

Thank god he understood! “Keep your man away from Farfarello. The head wound. I can't guarantee his safety. And I can't risk Far getting distracted here.”

 

Yohji pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Why?”

 

“Obsession.”

 

“Personal?”

 

“Biblical.”

 

Yohji raised one slim eyebrow at that, then nodded. “I'll see what I can do. Come on, let's finish our drinks before they get warm.” He led me back to the living room.

 

I collapsed onto the couch and picked up my beer. My hand was shaking, but only a little. Though I hadn't read his thoughts, I had the feeling that it wasn't a woman who had come calling. Who exactly it might have been, I wasn't sure. I debated asking him, then realized that it wasn't relevant. There had been no hint of psi talent used, and I trusted Yohji's perceptions to know if it was a dangerous situation. No, it had been an odd coincidence, nothing more.

 

Then again, he'd had the television volume cranked up when I'd arrived, and he'd looked vaguely surprised when he'd opened the door. Had he been expecting someone else?

 

“You got a little time this evening?”

 

His question pulled me back to the present. I smiled and said, “I've got some time.”

 

“You left me with a lot to think about, you know.” He studied my face as he lit up a fresh cigarette.

 

“Should I apologize, or take credit for it?”

 

He chuckled through the smoke. “You're an interesting man, Schuldig. I wish we'd met under different circumstances.”

 

“Amsterdam,” I murmured.

 

“Yeah. Amsterdam.”

 

I drank, he smoked, and the television babbled.

 

“How's the kid?”

 

“Sarcastic little shit,” I told him with a grin. “He's fine. Aside from a bout of traveler's distress, that is. It's been a wild…how long has it been?”

 

“Nearly a month.”

 

“Damn. Doesn't seem like it, does it?” I murmured. My mind whirled with all the events that had taken place since last I'd been in this apartment. I felt like I'd aged a year, at least. Not so long ago I would have been thinking about my own wants, my own desires here; now, I found myself only hoping that he would understand my warnings and act on them without delay. Never mind that I was only trying to keep Farfarello from going off the deep end; this wasn't out of the goodness of my heart, after all.

 

Was it?

 

Damn.

 

“Hey.”

 

I looked up. Yohji stood beside the couch and offered me his hand. I let him help me to my feet; that couch didn't like people to leave it, and tended to suck them back into the cushions if they didn't have proper leverage.

 

I found myself standing full against him, his hands on my hips, his eyes gazing into mine. “I'm glad you're all right,” he murmured.

 

Before I realized what I was intending, I leaned closer and kissed him. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and his hair smelled like smoke. More than that, he tasted like Yohji and smelled like Yohji and felt like everything I ever wanted, right here in my arms. I decided to steal what moments I could, because I had the feeling they would be increasingly scarce now, if not impossible. If this had to be our goodbye, it had to be memorable, or I would never be able to leave here.

 

“Who said anything about goodbyes?” Yohji whispered against my lips, his tongue darting out to tease them apart again.

 

I moaned against his mouth, welcoming his tongue between my lips as I melted into his embrace. Yohji shifted his weight a little, pressing his thigh between my own with a delightful friction. I angled my own leg to return the favor, and we stood there, entwined, erections throbbing to full life.

 

Already I felt the weakening of my shields as my desire surged, and I struggled to maintain control. It had been too long, I'd never gone without release like this; during the past couple of weeks I hadn't even had time to jack off. Need flooded me, stealing my breath. Desperate for sensation, I rubbed against Yohji's long, lean leg.

 

Yohji smiled and eased away from me. He looked like he was going to say something lewd, but he met my gaze and his expression changed from rude humor to warm understanding. His lips caressed mine again, then he took my hand and led me to his bedroom.

 

He lay me down on his bed, then unfastened my jeans. Strong slender fingers freed me from my underwear, gripped me with deliberate intent. Yohji leaned down and kissed me softly on the mouth, then he knelt beside the bed and tugged me closer to him. I shifted toward the edge, rolling onto my side a little, and he took me into his mouth.

 

I groaned and tangled my fingers in his hair, already feeling the climax approaching like a freight train. Yohji remembered what I liked, and spared no time delivering it. He started sucking, his lips closing around the shaft and his tongue mercilessly teasing the head and foreskin. His fingertips danced over my balls, stroking the tender skin as they tightened, his tongue found the right place to press, and with a grunt and a shudder I came so hard I thought I was going to black out.

 

When I opened my eyes again, Yohji had stripped and then lit up a cigarette, which he proceeded to offer to me. I took it gratefully, then scooted back to sit against the wall, sliding my pants off as I went. Yohji sat beside me, holding an ashtray. His cock lay semi-hard against his thigh.

 

“Thanks,” I whispered through a mouthful of bitter smoke.

 

“No problem,” he replied, watching me. “I could tell you were, ah, needy. Let me guess, your regular forms of tension relief are off-limits now.”

 

I chuckled. “Not exactly, but things have been a little weird lately.”

 

“Crawford not putting out?” he asked with a smile.

 

My sarcastic comment died in my mouth. I felt myself frown as I told him, “We've had some…interesting problems this past month. I didn't think we'd get through it without help, but here we are.”

 

He studied my profile, then said, “You mean Kritiker. That kind of help.”

 

“Yeah, that kind.” I glanced at him, wondering just how much to tell him. I couldn't risk Esset finding out about Brad's blindness, and I couldn't put Yohji in between us and them, but I had the feeling that we'd be needing Kritiker sooner than not, and Yohji was my only contact. With a distracted motion I crushed the cigarette out in the little glass ashtray. If I only had access to Yohji's brand, quitting wouldn't be so difficult. Yohji set the ashtray back on the nightstand without comment.

 

I took a deep breath. “Brad said it wasn't time for that.”

 

“Implying that someday it might be.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why not today?” Yohji asked, his eyes shadowed.

 

“I don't know.” I looked at him, watching his eyes as I asked, “Could it be today? If we needed it?”

 

“I told you,” he whispered, “I'm not `in' anymore.” Yohji reached up and cupped my chin, returning my gaze. “But I could probably arrange something.”

 

“This is bigger than we are, Yohji,” I murmured. “It goes deeper than I had ever imagined. I don't know details, just hints, but there's something there, and it's very, very dangerous. If Kritiker is the only organization big enough to stand against them, you can rest assured that Kritiker is in grave danger. Esset never forgives, and it never forgets.”

 

“I'll be careful,” Yohji stated. “Whatever happens. You be careful too, Schuldig.” His eyes narrowed, and I could see him slip into detective mode. “You're in deep, aren't you? Your whole team is in deeper than Crawford ever told you you'd be. And you're running scared. Is there something wrong with Crawford?”

 

“Damn, Kudou!” I blurted. “There you go again. You've got too much insight, you know that? He's all right, but he knows things he doesn't tell us. That's no secret, really. It's always been that way. But I get the feeling that he's hiding something important, some key to this whole business, and he won't tell me what it is. He was willing to sacrifice his team to destroy Esset, Yohji. His own team, and yours as well. Brad thought we'd all die there. He's not the kind of man to just throw lives away like that. He knows something about Esset that drove him to sacrifice us all to stop them. And he won't tell me what it is.”

 

“It could be something they were planning to do,” Yohji mused. “Or something they'd already done. Tell me, Schuldig, is Brad the kind of man to do revenge?”

 

A shiver scurried down my back like a frightened mouse. Revenge? That was a self-limiting desire: once fulfilled, there was usually very little of one's soul left. But is it revenge to hunt down a rabid dog? It's not something that's done out of a sense of nobility or fury, rather it's a necessary thing, not bound to revenge but to survival.

 

Nagi wanted revenge. He'd said as much - he wanted to bring Esset down.

 

What did Brad want?

 

“I don't know,” I mumbled. “It's all tangled.”

 

“Revenge is like that,” Yohji said, his tone soft. “It poisons the heart.” He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. “Poisoned hearts will never change.”

 

“I don't think it's revenge. And I don't think it's for the good of humanity, either. Brad keeps his motives to himself, but I suspect they're more complicated than either of those.” I turned and rested against his chest, suddenly very weary. With my body relaxed, my overworked mind begged for rest.

 

Yohji reached up and stroked my hair. “He does seem like a fairly complex man. Me, I'd wonder if it were personal. Not necessarily revenge, but connected to it the way a firecracker is connected to the fire. His motive might be fine and rational by itself, but strike a match to it…”