Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 68 ( Chapter 68 )

68

 

the whole world's gone to Hell, but how are you?

 

Winter in Europe.

 

If we weren't in exile, it would be romantic.

 

We stayed on the main continent through the frozen months, mostly driving in stolen cars and living out of them like gypsies. Sometimes Brad Saw a safe rail trip or a night in a hotel with a real bed and fresh linens, but those were exceedingly rare. No, we bought or stole warm coats and blankets, lit campfires when Brad decreed it prudent, and mostly huddled together for warmth like the refugees we were.

 

In short, it was one of the most miserable seasons of my life.

 

By the time February started to dream of spring, I'd developed a nasty cough and my nose wouldn't stop running. Sure the hell made me look forward to the coming pollen - at this rate, I was going to be a physical wreck before summer.

 

At least I wasn't jonesing for a smoke. Not too badly, anyway.

 

Though, there were days.

 

Like this one.

 

My head hurt, I could barely breathe, and the air was bitter cold. We'd parked in the wilderness yet again, as we'd been doing ever since the three Esset sedans had shown up in the parking garage in Belgium and we'd had to flee on foot.

 

Nagi lay curled up against my chest, warm and as comfortable as he could be in the little coupe. Far had extra blankets in the back seat, while Brad sat hunched in double coats behind the steering wheel. It was my turn to keep watch, and I was finding it damn difficult to stay awake. I suspected I had a fever, but I'd been bitching so much lately I didn't want Brad to think I couldn't do my job.

 

I found my thoughts turning back on the last year as though it were a particularly cheap novel I'd been reading, the kind that once you start it you just can't put down, no matter how ugly it gets. A year ago we'd been playing cat-and-mouse with Weiß over little sleeping Aya, her dreams an intriguing mystery to us all. I'd met Kudou in a cheap bar, a small coincidence with huge aftershocks. And Brad had been planning the end of the world.

 

I laughed softly. End of the world my ass. He'd been planning the downfall of the Elders of Esset and the glorious death of Schwarz. He'd never had to plan on our survival.

 

And now we were trapped in a small Italian car on a snow-capped hill with perpetually dwindling supplies and one sick telepath.

 

Strong, gentle fingers brushed at my cheek, and I realized I'd started crying. The fever ate away at my composure, the cold burned through my bones, and my mind fucking hurt. I'd been pushing too hard for too long, and my body begged me to just stop for a while. Just stop, and go out into the snow to sleep.

 

Nagi shifted in my arms. Brad touched his shoulder and the kid woke with a yawn. “Nagi, I need you to set up a campfire. There's dry wood about fifteen meters southwest. It's deadfall, you can't miss it.”

 

Nagi let himself out of the car, not looking at me. He wasn't dealing well with me being sick: it worried him more than he wanted me to know.

 

Brad slid over to sit closer to me, his hand upon my forehead. “Schu, you're burning up. You should have told me it wasn't getting better.”

 

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, my mouth feeling like it was lined with cotton. “I didn't want Nagi to worry.”

 

“Too late, I'm afraid,” Brad murmured. He scrounged up some aspirin and a bottle of juice - not the regular kind of juice, but the watery stuff people feed to infants. The last couple of days, it was the only thing I could handle.

 

“I think I need a doctor, Brad,” I whispered, afraid to admit weakness. “Or find me some penicillin or something. This has to stop. My head's too heavy, I can't work like this.”

 

Brad frowned a moment, then excused himself from the car. He went around the back and opened the trunk.

 

When he returned to the driver's seat, I blinked at him. I had no idea how long he'd been gone, and no real idea of where we were in the first place.

 

Brad scowled at me, then opened the little bottle in his hands. I could smell the heavy moldy smell of penicillin. “Here, Schu. Try one of these.” He put the capsule between my teeth for me and I washed it down with the baby-drink.

 

He looked at the bottle again and sighed. “It's a little old, but it worked for you a few months ago. Let's see how you're feeling after a couple of doses. If we have to, I can get you to a…” His voice faded off, his eyes taking on the unfocused look that spoke of visions. Slow tears welled at the corners, probably because he wasn't blinking.

 

My body decided to use the time to doze.

 

A hand cupped my face, and I woke to see Brad staring at me. He whispered, “You're going to be fine, Schu. Take the penicillin, we'll get some more in a couple of days. This will pass, but you're going to have to be more careful in the cold from now on. Understood?”

 

I frowned a little, his words conflicting with my logic. I'd always thought that being cold and catching cold had nothing to do with one another.

 

“Schu, it's not a cold,” Brad said, and I realized I'd been thinking out loud. “It's bronchitis, and if you're not careful it could turn really nasty. The cold makes you seize up like an asthmatic because your bronchi are irritated, probably from too many years of chain smoking.”

 

“I never chain smoked!” I wheezed, then doubled over coughing. Dimly I remembered Yohji doing the same thing, and wondered if that had been his problem. He'd said something about inhaling nasty sea water…

 

Brad only watched me with a mild and unreadable expression. If he'd actually had tears in his eyes, he showed no indication of it now.

 

“I need you healthy, Schuldig,” Brad told me, dropping his voice as Farfarello woke and let himself out of the car. “Once you're feeling better, I'm going to have to split the team again. Not for long this time, but you'll have to watch over Nagi for me. He won't like it, but it can't be helped. They'll be looking for me with a small boy, they won't be expecting us to travel separately.”

 

“Can we maybe stay in a real room for a while first?” I asked, swiping Far's blankets and wrapping them around myself like a cocoon.

 

“I'll see what I can do.”

 

Brad left me alone in the car again, presumably to check on Nagi and the campfire. I huddled under the pile of blankets, the aspirin taking only the slightest edge off the chill. I wanted soup, even that nasty fish soup would work, as long as it was steaming hot.

 

I'd never been this sick before. Though I couldn't clearly remember my childhood, I was pretty sure something like this would stand out, and there was nothing. While at Rosenkreuz, I'd been the picture of health. Bruised and beaten, but otherwise rosy perfect. No colds, not even a case of athlete's foot.

 

And now this crap.

 

I shivered. At least winter was nearly over.

 

Then I shivered again - at least we'd made it through Christmas without an incident. I hadn't even noticed it come and go. Apparently, neither had Farfarello. That, or his team loyalty had overridden his madness this year.

 

Of course, that meant that Easter was right around the corner. Fortunately it didn't have a set date, and I could hope Far wouldn't find out when it fell this year.

 

2001, was it? No, 2002. Late February, 2002.

 

Shit, I couldn't think straight anymore.

 

As I started to pass out, bits of conversation snuck into my head. I could barely tell who was who; their thoughts echoed their words, or masked them, or the other way around. I didn't have the soundtrack, just the thinktrack, so I couldn't be sure just what was going on. At least the mental voices kept me company while I dozed.

 

::He's going to be fine. He just needs to rest and take some medicine for a while.::

 

::What if one of us gets really sick? What do we do then?::

 

::We find a way.::

 

::I have some pills in my bag, from when I had those stitches.:: Ah, that must be Far. Far, too far, getting all cut up and sewn up like a rag doll. Good thinking, there, Far mein Freund.

 

Farfarello looked toward the car. ::I think he's delirious, Crawford.::

 

::I've Seen him turning around overnight. We'll head toward town just in case I'm wrong, but I think the penicillin will do the trick.::

 

::This time. What about next time?::

 

::We'll make sure we keep antibiotics on hand. Enough for each of us.::

 

::I can't always get into a pharmacy computer.:: Nagi's scared. He's worried about me. He's such a good kid, really, when you get past all the training. ::How will we get what we need?::

 

::I have ways.:: Oh, Brad. You always have ways, you mysterious son of a bitch. And you never tell us any of them. You have so many secrets. What I wouldn't give to dive into your head for a look around. Of course, you'd probably shoot me…

 

The driver's side door opened, and Brad settled into the seat. “How are you doing?” He reached over and put his hand across my forehead. It was mercifully cool, drawing me back into reality.

 

“I think I slept,” I told him, not really sure but feeling rested.

 

He gave me some more of that thin juice, then helped me out of the car and a little distance away to relieve myself. He had to brace me so I didn't topple over. I realized I was starting to get dehydrated; that couldn't be good.

 

When Brad got me back to the car, he opened the door for me and tilted my seat back as far as it would go. He set two bottles of juice in the driver's seat. “Try to get some sleep. Whenever you wake up, I want you drinking this stuff. Understood?”

 

I nodded, my head an absurd weight upon my neck.

 

Brad kissed my forehead, then my cheek. His eyes were dark as he said, “You'll feel better tomorrow. Trust me, all right?”

 

“I trust you, Brad,” I whispered. “I love you.”

 

Brad smiled slightly and tugged a lock of my hair. “No you don't.”

 

I smiled back. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

“Goodnight, Brad.”

 

“Goodnight, Schu.”

 

 

A/N:

 

68

the whole world's gone to Hell, but how are you?

 

Oh, dear. Schu is having a “South Park” moment. Not a good sign, for a delirious telepath. At least he's got a sense of humor about everything. So far. “I'm Super”, Big Gay Al's fabulous hit from “South Park - Bigger, Longer & Uncut” pretty well sums that up. Let's give Schu a bit of rest and see how he's feeling next chapter, shall we?

 

 

 

Special Note:

 

I'm putting this note with all my fics; the one for “Standing Outside the Fire” is a little different, so if you're reading that story, please read that note as well. If you've seen this note with “Rain”, you can skip it here.

 

Hey, all, just wanted to give you the heads-up about the BIG MOVE to my livejournal (guiltyred_fics). I'm reposting ALL of the “Cross of Changes” arc over there, including this story. When I'm all caught up, I will be posting subsequent chapters ONLY at my livejournal and my website! I will give you plenty of notice before pulling the plug here, as I want all of you to continue reading in the new venue.

 

Again, this move is due to the need for posting simplicity and to many of the restrictive, reactive, and arbitrary policies found on *some* fan fiction sites (FF.net), which must at some point come into conflict with my storytelling. The first story to disappear from FanFic, AFF, and MediaMiner will be “Standing Outside the Fire”, due to content and rating issues. The others will follow to maintain continuity. You don't have to have a livejournal yourself to read (or review), so please, visit my livejournal, get comfortable with the setup there, and settle in for some (hopefully) powerful reading. Oh, and please, sign any reviews there with your pen-name so I know who you are!

 

Thank you!

 

GR