Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 64 ( Chapter 64 )

64

 

And the visions they keep coming

I keep hearing my angel fall

 

Brad scowled at me, his hand still gripping my arm. “This is serious, Schuldig. Are you listening to me or not?”

 

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “It's just, ah hell, Brad! The crazy son of a bitch said it was a signal, and at least it wasn't the monkey, and you were really there! It's just too fucking weird.”

 

Brad sighed and ran a hand through his too-short hair. “I told you, I Saw you'd be coming here, so what's the problem? I knew I'd find you again, or you'd find me.” His lips quirked in a wry smile as he added, “It was only a matter of time.”

 

“Where did you guys go, anyway?”

 

“Copenhagen,” he replied smoothly.

 

“What the fuck?” I blurted. “You told me to go there!”

 

“But I knew you wouldn't. Will you just shut up and listen?” His voice had become tense, and he glanced back at the van.

 

“Brad, what's going on?” I asked. “You're acting all James Bond again.”

 

“We'll discuss our findings later. Right now, I have a more immediate concern, Schuldig.” Brad paused, so I nodded to let him know I was listening. “Nagi hasn't been quite right lately. He's moodier than usual, and he's not eating well.”

 

I blinked. “Is he upset that we split the team?”

 

“I don't know. I was hoping he'd talk to you about it,” Brad murmured. “He won't tell me a damn thing.”

 

“Why wouldn't he talk to you? You're our leader. Besides,” I added, “you helped me raise him; I didn't do it alone.”

 

“Whenever I asked him what was wrong, all he'd say was `I'm fine, Crawford.' He doesn't want to talk about it. Not with me, anyway. I think he's afraid to show weakness, for fear I'll leave him behind.”

 

I inhaled a bitter breath and asked, “Will you?”

 

“What? No!”

 

“What about me?” I growled. “The rest of our team is convinced you're just waiting for the right time to hand me over to Kritiker.”

 

Brad's expression softened. One hand gently gripped my shoulder. “They don't know what they think they know. Let it be, Schuldig. Right now, I'm worried about Nagi. And, from what you've told me, Farfarello isn't in the best condition either. We have to travel together for a while now. It could either help, or aggravate things.”

 

I nodded, wanting a better answer, settling for the one I got. “You're right about Far,” I said. “Like I said, he's been talking about robots and shit. Thinks Nagi isn't human. Again. And then he stabbed me in the ass with a straight pin! Crazy son of a bitch.”

 

“Good thing I told Nagi to lock the van, then.”

 

I sighed, giving up on any Crawfordian sympathy. “How's Nagi doing with his powers?”

 

Brad shook his head. “It hurts him to try. And without enough food, he gets exhausted almost immediately. Then the headache sets in. I don't think he knows I know.”

 

“So what do we do?”

 

“We move out. Do what we do best, keep a few steps ahead of pursuit. We regroup. You try to get Nagi talking, or get into his head and find out what the hell is going on. I won't have him damaging himself. We'll find a way to get him back on track, and get Farfarello as stable as he can be. Then,” Brad said, pausing to look into my eyes, “we kick things up a notch. We turn the hell around and run right back down Esset's throat. The war has only just started, Schuldig. And I know now that it's going to take some time, more than I'd expected.”

 

“Brad, our own safety and survival aside for the moment, what is the point of this?” I asked, trying not to sound petulant. “I know Esset is a big bad organization that would love to rule the world, but doesn't it already? I mean, through financial and more subtle means, it's already got what it wants. Doesn't it?”

 

Crawford's eyes darkened, his expression hard. “In no way,” he stated, “does Esset have what it wants, Schuldig. If you think running the world is enough, you are mistaken. Esset doesn't want to rule, it wants to own all of humanity. Reshape it. Create a super race on the bones of the lesser. And, unless we are very careful, it will succeed.”

 

“How, Brad?” I snarled, afraid for Brad's sanity, and terrified of his truth. “How the fuck can they?”

 

“Science and black magic,” Brad murmured, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes as if the visions made them sore. “They tried the magic; it failed. Now they're trying to reinvent genetics. Between information we gathered and visions that won't go away, I believe that they are doing something heinous, and our Nagi is at the center of it.”

 

I felt suddenly chilled, though the air was fairly warm for late autumn and the sun glowed down with stupid regularity. “What about Nagi?”

 

“I wish I knew for certain. The trail starts in Copenhagen, ties in with their research into telekinesis and the physical talents. There will be a laboratory dedicated to this work, but I can't See where. Or when: I get the feeling it's years down the road. But if I'm Seeing bits of it now, it might still be stoppable.”

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Brad rarely shared his visions, and never advocated acting on them. “Brad, if you've Seen this, why are you telling me? You always used to say that that was the wrong thing to do, that acting on a vision could make things even worse. Hell, you told me that just knowing the future could invalidate it. What's changed with you?”

 

“You have to understand, Schuldig: this is bigger than all of us now. I suspect it always has been.” He paused to slide his glasses back on like a barrier between himself and the future. “I've been having dreams. Or, rather, one dream repeated over and over. Hell of it is, I can't tell if it's a dreamed vision, or if it's just my own subconscious finally getting even with me for years of repression. In this dream, I'm in a laboratory. I find myself drawn toward a large chamber or tank in the middle of the room. There are dials and hoses all over this thing. And I look into the tank and I see Nagi. He's sleeping inside that chamber. I know he's sleeping, but it reminded me of a glass coffin.” Brad raised a hand to silence my outburst and continued. “I'm not saying I Saw this, Schuldig. Get that straight right now. There are vast differences between Seeing and dreaming. But if you know or learn of anything that might explain this, tell me immediately. This was one of those dreams that felt real, but it was so bizarre I can't reconcile it. And I've had it five times in the past six weeks. Enough to have the damn thing memorized.”

 

“Glass coffin,” I mumbled, my brain rebelling against this conversation. “Like some kind of Disney movie?”

 

Brad took his glasses off again and glared at them. His voice sounded raw as he replied, “No, more like the goddamned `Matrix'. You know what, this would be easier if you just saw it for yourself. Tell me what you think it is.” He cupped the back of my head and looked into my eyes.

 

His mind pulled me into his current frustration and turbulence. I reeled, then caught my mental balance and allowed him to show me what he needed me to see: Nagi, naked and deep in sleep, floating inside a chamber of chrome and glass. I felt my lips part and heard my own voice sneaking out. “Suspended animation capsule? But that's science fiction.” I pulled back from the contact and shook my head, trying to get back inside myself. For a moment, the world echoed hollowly like a forgotten bell. “You're right, it doesn't make sense.”

 

“Watch for it, then. Help me watch for it. If it comes, it will be bad. That much I do know.”

 

I swallowed, haunted by my brief glimpse of Crawford's dream. “Are you sure it wasn't some kind of attack, Brad? Someone trying to get into your head, influence your actions?”

 

Brad seemed to forgive his glasses for whatever they'd done to offend him and put them back in place with a graceful shove. “How many dreamwalkers do you know? They're fairly rare, at least the ones strong enough to set up a repeater.”

 

I frowned. My friend Sergei had that talent, but I couldn't imagine him being able to get through Brad's shields. He just wasn't that strong. Or, he hadn't been that strong, what, five years ago? Six? When had I seen him last? Before my last encounter with Karl. “I might know of one,” I murmured. “But I still don't think he could get through your shielding. So, if not that, then what, Brad? How certain are you that it didn't come from outside?”

 

Brad sighed. “I'm not. That's another reason I'm damn glad to have the team whole again. We'll keep a watch on this, see if it comes back. And in the meantime, we watch Nagi and our surroundings very carefully.” He squinted up at the sky, then glanced down at his watch. “Come on, we have to move out.”

 

We returned to the van, collecting Farfarello as we went. Brad took the driver's seat this time, giving me the chance to talk with Nagi. I had no idea where we were going, or what Brad's plans were. I'd intended to ask him, but never managed to get around to it. Now all I could think of was Nagi in a glass box, and it scared the hell out of me.

 

Still, there were immediate priorities, and finding out what was wrong with the kid had to come before my case of sci-fi heebie-jeebies. “How was your trip, kiddo?” I asked, hoping he felt talkative.

 

“It was all right.”

 

“See anything interesting?”

 

Nagi graced me with a bland look of utter boredom. “No. Unless you consider the outsides of Esset buildings interesting.”

 

Lowering my voice, I said, “Crawford's been worried about you. Said you hadn't been eating.”

 

This got a reaction. Nagi blushed a little and looked away from me. “I'm all right.”

 

“Chibi, talk to me? I'm your best friend, right? What's going on?”

 

Nagi sighed and turned back to face me. “All this weird food is making me sick, Schuldig. Then my head hurts, and I can't do anything until it passes. I don't know why, it just does.”

 

“What about your powers? Been practicing?”

 

“No. It hurts.” His eyes looked too bright as he said, “I think it's really broken.”

 

I didn't know what to say this time. I'd reassured him before, with nothing more to go on than my own faith. Empty promises wouldn't work now.

 

In the silence, I could hear the wind picking up outside, reminding me that it was in fact November, in spite of the mild weather so far. We were probably going to get rained on. That was okay; it would help hide us, if that was Brad's intention.

 

Still, it would be getting cold soon. I dug through my meager belongings to see if I still owned any warm clothes. Wadded up in the bottom of my backpack lay a distressed leather blazer. I took it out and unfolded it, shaking the creases out as best I could. It still smelled like cigarettes, though I hadn't been smoking lately. I shrugged into it, only then noticing that I was actually a little chilled. Probably just my imagination, hearing the wind and thinking snow.

 

“Schuldig?” Nagi's voice seemed smaller than usual. “If it is broken, and we don't have a computer, will Crawford still need me?”

 

The words were out before thought. “Of course we need you! We're a team, Nagi. That's what `team' means: people who stand by each other, and work together, even if one of them isn't doing so well. We'll stay a team, too.”

 

“Promise?”

 

I nodded. “I promise. Now, will you promise me that you'll try to eat better?”

 

Nagi sighed, a disgusted little sound. “Schuldig, you weren't listening. It's not that I don't want food, it's that the food doesn't want me. And we haven't exactly had the time to find something that works. Every time we do, we're leaving that country and the food changes again.”

 

“Then we'll try harder,” Brad stated, glancing back at us. “We'll find something that agrees with you, Nagi. But you'll have to tell us what works and what doesn't, rather than just suffer in silence.”

 

Nagi looked down and murmured, “Yes, sir.”

 

Against my wishes, my mind busied itself with threads of conversation, weaving them together into an unpleasant pattern. Nagi was afraid Brad would leave him behind if he showed weakness. Already we had discussed leaving Farfarello behind, if his seizures hadn't become manageable. And there was still that specter of Kritiker hanging over my head like a damn sword.

 

If one of us became incapacitated, would Crawford leave him behind?

 

He would be a fool not to.

 

 

Author's Notes:

 

And the visions they keep coming

I keep hearing my angel fall

 

This is from one of the songs I most closely associate with Brad Crawford: “Binary” from CXS Wishfire. Imagine for a moment that you are him, responsible for the lives of your teammates because they have become as dear as family to you. But first and foremost you are a slave to Time: glimpses of the future become dire warnings, or simple torment. You dare not warn the ones you love, lest Time become angry and throw something worse their way, but if you remain silent, your sanity will begin to slide. Either that, or you willingly discard your very humanity and remain impartial. What would you do?

 

Add one more detail: you decided long ago that you would not discard your humanity for anyone.

 

Now, what would you do?