Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 65 ( Chapter 65 )

65

 

when your fears subside and shadows still remain

 

::Brad?::

 

::Don't ask it. Just…don't.::

 

I sighed. There were actually half a dozen questions begging to be asked, and he'd just shut out all of them.

 

We'd been living in the van for nearly a week now. It was starting to smell.

 

At least we'd found something Nagi could eat, though potato chips and peanut butter were hardly proper nutrition. Still, for a van-dweller, I supposed it could be worse. The boy's color was improving, and his eyes didn't look so hollow.

 

Farfarello seemed to have wandered into another lucid phase, for which we were all grateful. He commented on the scenery - “Brown.” - and the weather - “Dank.” - and even managed to startle a laugh out of Nagi twice.

 

But I still had no idea where we were, where we were going, or what Brad intended to do next. And he still wouldn't tell me.

 

::Schuldig, you're doing it again.::

 

I sent an elaborate string of silent multicultural curses his way. Aloud, I said, “Brad, this is crazy. Are you ever going to tell us what you've got planned, or have we become a wandering improv troupe?”

 

Farfarello chuckled. “Let's do `Scenes from a Hat' next. I'm fond of that one.” His voice had returned to a pleasant lilt, further proof that he was relatively sane for the moment. I was almost starting to think of him as two different people, but I knew that was just an illusion. Far might have many oddnesses about him, but his personality was strictly singular.

 

Brad ignored us, concentrating on driving through a cold and steady rain. Ever since we'd arrived in France, the weather had been turning more and more sour. I was grateful to have my jacket: it did a good job of retaining body heat, and it smelled like Yohji's cigarettes. I'd realized a few days back that the smoky scent embedded in the leather wasn't my brand. Now I used it to anchor my mood and my sanity.

 

The problem with that was the smell made me want a goddamn cigarette.

 

It wasn't like Brad made us sleep outside or anything, but this was still too close to roughing it for my taste. Brad or I would drive for a few hours, letting the other sleep if he could, then switch. We only stopped for fuel and necessities. I had the feeling that pretty soon even those breaks would become scarce. And all this without any clear explanation from our leader.

 

In spite of this, our loyalty to him remained intact. We still trusted Brad Crawford with our lives.

 

And yet, we were all getting tired.

 

Brad parked the van in yet another roadside rest stop. The curtain of rain helped keep us hidden from the main highway, while effectively trapping us inside our vehicle. Our increasingly stinky vehicle.

 

“Schuldig, you keep watch,” Brad stated as he left he driver's seat and half stumbled into the back of the van. “I need some sleep, and you're not fit to drive.”

 

“Like hell I'm not,” I snapped reflexively. “I just don't know where the fuck we're going.”

 

Brad paused to look into my eyes. For a moment I thought he was going to slap me. But then he touched my cheek and kissed me softly on the lips. “I'm going to try pulling some visions. I don't want the van to be moving while I do so. And then I'll probably pass out. You know the drill. Keep an eye on those two. And make sure Nagi eats.”

 

I nodded, wanting only to linger in the kiss, to feel his hands upon me. Today his touch evoked a powerful and sad longing that confused me. I felt my face go hot as I realized I was thinking all this while wearing a coat that I could only associate with Yohji.

 

“It's all right, Schu,” Brad murmured, as though hearing my private thoughts. “Just keep watch for a bit. This shouldn't take long.”

 

I slumped into the driver's seat. Next to me, Far was already digging through a bag of groceries. He found a plastic-wrapped sausage of some sort, and tore into it like a starving animal. No wonder this van smells, I thought.

 

Behind us, Nagi pulled a face and popped open the little window port.

 

“Hey, chibi, keep an eye on Brad, will you? You know how hard it can hit him when he pushes the Sight.”

 

Nagi rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, Schuldig. And I also know there's nothing we can do to make it easier, during or after.”

 

“And eat something, will you?” I added, ignoring his commentary.

 

“We don't have anything good.”

 

“We have potatoes,” Far reminded him, holding out a bag of ripple chips.

 

Nagi sighed but took the bag and tore it open with a careful tug. Soft crunching sounds followed, and I presumed he wasn't just mashing the chips up and dropping them to the floor. Some things had to be taken on faith; if I turned to watch him eat, I knew he'd stop out of spite.

 

A startled shout made me jump; Far half turned with me, a knife materializing in his hand.

 

Behind us, Brad stared at nothing, panting; sweat beaded across his forehead. His hands had clenched into fists, and he seemed to shrink back against the side of the van.

 

Far resheathed his knife and stared at me, demanding answers.

 

Nagi went on eating his chips, with slow, methodical movements.

 

I cautiously scanned the area, though I knew Brad hadn't been attacked. This was a vision pulled in and landed against its will, and like a fish it thrashed against its captor. Brad would pay for this, with a headache and probably nausea, too, but he was the one who deemed it necessary, and I'd learned long ago never to argue with him about his gift.

 

“It's just him,” I told Far, hoping this hadn't spooked him back into an episode.

 

“I'm glad it's not me,” Far murmured, his voice soft and thoughtful. “I wouldn't want to read minds, but I wouldn't want to do what he does, either.”

 

“You know, back in Rosenkreuz, the students would talk about the talents,” I said, now also thoughtful. “While no one was really comfortable with their own gifts, it turned out that not a single person would be happier with a trade-off. The telepaths don't want to move things, the telekinetics don't want to read minds. And nobody wants to see the future.”

 

“I'm a telekinetic, and I read minds,” Nagi stated in bland rebuttal.

 

“Team link doesn't count,” Far said as though he were the referee calling the point null.

 

If that kid weren't the most literal minded little bastard, I didn't know who'd get the prize. “Chibi, what I'm saying is no matter what your gift is, Brad's sucks worse.”

 

“Yet it's a part of him, like his blood,” Farfarello mused. “I think he'd die without it. The thing that intrigues me is, does he really trust it, though? It's fickle, a bad-tempered animal that doesn't always come when called and usually bites.”

 

“But it's never led us wrong,” I offered.

 

Farfarello fixed me with a one-eyed stare. “Hasn't it?”

 

I scowled back at him. “What do you mean, Far?”

 

“You know he keeps most to himself. What he Sees. You know most Seers go insane from their `gift'. What's it done to him, I wonder?”

 

“Crawford isn't crazy,” Nagi stated. “We might be, but he isn't.”

 

“They say I am,” Far whispered. “Are you saying you're like me, then?”

 

Nagi looked away. “Perhaps.”

 

“All right, where did this all come from?” I asked. I didn't like this turn of events, especially while Brad was helpless in the grip of the future.

 

“If Crawford's Sight must drive him mad, then we must be mad to follow him. Because we clearly aren't stupid. Why else follow a madman, unless you have the same destination in mind? So to speak,” Far added with a little smile.

 

“We follow him because we are Schwarz,” Nagi growled, anger coloring his cheeks. “We belong to the team, and the team belongs to Crawford.” He glanced at me as though seeking confirmation.

 

“Do we follow blind, then?” Farfarello asked in a serpent's whisper. “We are his and that's the end of it? It might be enough for Schuldig, but what about you, Nagi? Why do you follow? And are your eyes open or closed?”

 

“Do we have to discuss this here? Now?” Nagi countered. “It seems…bad, somehow. Wrong. Like you're trying to see how much we doubt our leader. I don't like it.”

 

Cold rain slashed against the shell of the van, setting a counterpoint to the heated words within. I started to say something, then stopped myself. Heated words? Were they really? Nagi was literal by nature; Far, rhetorical. “Hey, guys, take a break,” I told them. “I think you're each missing the other's point, here.”

 

“What, now you're Gandhi?” Nagi mumbled, glaring at me.

 

“Look, Far isn't talking mutiny.” I regarded the Irishman with my best no-nonsense scowl. “Are you? Because it sounds to me that we've all had our doubts and fears, and until now nobody's bothered to voice any of them. If we don't talk about this, it'll fester and build until it does become something nasty.”

 

“Exactly so,” Far said with a nod. “Personally, I've thought Crawford was crazy ever since he came into my holding cell and unlocked my restraints.” He looked at his window, the rain effectively preventing him from looking out. “I thought I was going to die there. Rosenkreuz lab rat. And then the door opened, and in walked this arrogant American bastard in a fancy suit. And he looked into my eyes and sat down beside me. Just like that. He offered me a cookie. Oatmeal. And he unlocked the manacles so I could eat it.” Farfarello laughed softly. “He wasn't afraid, and that meant one of three things. I could tell from his eyes that he wasn't stupid, so that one's ruled out. But I could never quite decide which of the other two it was, or a mix of both. Either he's just that strong, or he's crazier than I am.”

 

I looked back at our leader again. Brad lay sprawled in the belly of the van; I couldn't tell if he was sleeping or meditating. Maybe he'd start to snore and I'd figure it out. Returning to the conversation, I said, “He found me in Berlin. I was fifteen.” I paused, debating how much to tell them. It was odd, talking about all this now. We'd been a team for several years and never discussed our more personal moments. But then, we'd been Esset. Now we were only men. “They'd thrown me in the Pit one time too many,” I murmured. “I'd had enough. I ran. I didn't stop until I reached Berlin.”

 

Farfarello nodded. I could tell he was tasting the tension in my voice and filling in the gaps for himself. This was a good thing; I really couldn't explain how I'd gotten out, or what that stint in the Pit had really done to my psyche. And I didn't want to scare Nagi.

 

“I didn't have any money, I had to steal to eat, but I was away from there. Brad was on a Retrieval team. Apparently he requested the case after I'd been gone nearly three months.” I grinned at the memory. “Eighty-two days! Set a fucking record! They couldn't find me, and I was right under their noses. Of course, I was just as determined to not be found as they were to catch me. I just didn't count on Brad Crawford.” My eyes stung as the scene replayed itself in my head. I swallowed down the memory; my throat burned with it as I said, “He took me back. They gave me to him for his new team because he makes the voices quiet; I'd be useless anywhere else. He promised me that he would be my way out. He could have done…many things. He never did. And he's never lied to me.”

 

I let the words trail away, my thoughts drifting after them like mist that follows rain. I'd been a thief, a con-artist, and a cheap fuck. Brad Crawford had changed all of that. I was still trying to figure out just what he'd changed it to.

 

Many seconds slid past, silent save for the rain. Nagi heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “You already know my story.”

 

“Maybe, under the circumstances, it would help if you told us anyway,” Far suggested. “Remind us why we followed him to the end of the world once already.” He frowned and added, “Maybe twice, now.”

 

“He saved my life,” Nagi stated quite matter-of-factly. “He took me in, cared for me. Then he took me to Rosenkreuz.” His indigo eyes flashed dangerously as he said the name. He paused and took a deep breath, then continued. “He always came back for me. I know he needs me, and I know I need him. The same goes for Schuldig, and even you, Farfarello. Crawford needs us. And we need him.”

 

Far looked intently at Nagi, and I couldn't identify the expression on the Irishman's face. Wistful? Sad? Unexpected, certainly. “And what else?” he asked, voice gentle. “Do we need each other, then? Are you ready to say that?”

 

“I never said we didn't,” Nagi mumbled, looking away from him, glancing past me, then staring at his own hands.

 

A tiny smile creased the corner of Far's mouth. “I guess that settles it, then.”

 

I wasn't sure what had just happened. But I was pretty certain that asking about it would get me nowhere. I shrugged it off as Far being Far and Nagi being Nagi. “So does that take care of lingering doubt, then?” I asked them both. “We're all in this together, and it's all because of him. And to be honest, I don't think he'd willingly leave any of us behind,” I added, glancing at Nagi. “Brad wouldn't just give up. It's not his style. So here's the question: no matter how weird things get, will we follow him?”

 

“Aye,” Far said, nodding for emphasis. “Nowhere else to go, after all. Besides, you need someone who understands the twisty stuff, and that would be me.”

 

“By `twisty stuff', do you mean philosophy or physics?” I asked with a smile.

 

Farfarello shook his head. When he spoke, his tone was quite serious. “I mean Rosenkreuz. I mean ugliness and horror. Things he can't willingly See. I'm not afraid to look. I already know them by name.”

 

I clasped his hand and said, “Well put, my friend. You keep on being his shield and his advisor. Be his Merlin.”

 

“Ah, no,” Far grinned, “he's the Merlin. I'm but one of his owls.”

 

I turned toward Nagi, who seemed to be ignoring us now. “How about you, chibi? Settled any doubts?”

 

“No. I didn't have any.”

 

I sighed. He was being single-minded again. “Not about Crawford, I already promised you on that,” I stated. “I meant about us.”

 

Nagi graced me with a tiny smile and said, “I know.”

 

 

A/N:

 

when your fears subside and shadows still remain

 

“November Rain”, Guns `N Roses (Use Your Illusion I). Fitting quote for a heart-to-heart discussion about fears and shadows. This chapter has been a long time coming. It shows much about the dynamic that is Schwarz. The separation seems to have intensified their need for each other, and finally broken down the barriers between them. Just which barriers are breaking remains to be seen. I think of this as a Nagi chapter, though Farfarello has many more lines in it. My Nagi says more through his silence than in words, but when Far manages to goad him into talking, the results are usually very deep. Odd, how Farfarello's fascination with Nagi and Nagi's fear of him can sometimes evaporate and allow them to interact as almost friends.

 

Farfarello's reference to “Scenes from a Hat” comes from a televised improv comedy series called “Whose Line Is It, Anyway?” It originated in England (most truly hilarious comedy does), and was co-opted by America (most truly hilarious comedy is). “Scenes” is a skit where the host pulls slips of paper from a hat and the comedians have to go with whatever he reads off those papers. It's one of the most madcap random routines they do, and it's no wonder Far goes there when thinking about Brad's increasingly odd and random orders.

 

Speaking of Farfarello and Brad, yes, he did have two eyes when they met. In my world, Far lost his eye in the time between leaving Germany and the timeline of the TV series. He would have been in Japan, working for Takatori - a man with a violent temper and a fondness for golf… (That and other things will be explained in his character development essay, whenever it gets around to writing itself. In the meantime, check my LJ for the Brad Crawford essay.)

 

Oh, and yes, having Far offering “potatoes” to Nagi was a bit of humor on the Irish. I'm Irish. I can do that.