Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 71 ( Chapter 71 )

Special Note from GuiltyRed:

 

One more chapter to go before this story goes to livejournal. Directions have been posted along the way. I apologize again for any inconvenience, and if you have trouble getting to my livejournal, email me (available through my profile here) and I will work something out with you.

 

Thank you,

 

GR

 

71

 

but you don't really care for music, do you?

 

Back on the mainland of Europe, we again wandered in a rough circle as though leading any hunters in a crazy dance. I figured this was more of a delaying tactic than anything, just a way to keep moving while Brad decided what to do next. At least, with the team together, we had the sense of being on top of the situation again.

 

I couldn't help but wonder how long this could go on. We'd been running over a year, with a few close calls but no decisive confrontation to end things once and for all. I wasn't really certain I wanted a decisive confrontation, actually, but the seemingly aimless running was getting old. We camped, we lived out of cars, and we counted ourselves lucky whenever Brad got us into a real room, even if that room was a storeroom at a foul-smelling warehouse. I was almost ready to suggest we all fucking go over to Kritiker, just to put an end to it.

 

Then I'd remember what Brad had told us of his vision, and his understanding of the forces hunting us, and I put that idea firmly away. Though it might not make sense now, the future had plans for us. All we had to do was survive long enough to show up for them.

 

One late summer night, as we camped under the stars and crickets hummed to themselves, I looked back on our travels to date and caught myself smiling. All in all, it hadn't really been that bad. Brad kept us one step ahead of pursuit, or twenty steps, or one bare breath; it didn't matter, only that he was carrying the greatest burden of us all, and carrying it with grace. His hair was distinctly gray at the temples now, and his eyes weary, but the fire within promised no surrender, and reminded me why I followed him. He was Brad Crawford, and he knew how our lives must play out, even if he could never breathe a word of it.

 

“What? What is that look?” Brad murmured, and I realized I'd been staring at him with a goofy smile on my face.

 

I shook my head, shaggy russet hair reminding me that I could use a real haircut one of these days. Brad's hair was longer, too, almost long enough to tie back in a gangster ponytail. I smiled again and said, “Just thinking about our lives, the weird turns they've taken.”

 

Brad snorted and tossed more wood on our campfire. Other campers sent up their own signals into the languid night, and since most if not all of them had hunting rifles we felt fairly safe in their midst. Any trouble would be quickly dealt with, unless a team of telepaths grabbed all the campers' minds…

 

“Won't happen,” Brad reassured me, picking up the thought. “I've Seen enough to believe they're looking for us in the wrong place right now. So far, it's been guiding us well. I trust this one.”

 

Farfarello regarded him with a curious tilt of the head. “Crawford, question. If you can't see things about those closest to you, how do you know we're safe here? What are you looking at?”

 

Brad smiled that cool smile of his and said, “I haven't Seen any of our guns being cleaned after firing. Not in the near future, anyway.”

 

Far smiled and nodded. “Objects are easier than men, aren't they?”

 

“In many things, Far. In many things.”

 

We didn't post a guard, since Far slept like a junkyard dog at the best of times. Anyone intent on mischief would find much more than they'd bargained for. I stared up at the sky until I thought I saw a shooting star, then made a wish.

 

Brad whimpered in his sleep. He threw one arm up as if to ward off a blow as the whimper turned into a low moan that made me think of ghosts.

 

I crept to his side, mindful of the loaded gun by his restless hand. Careful not to fall into his dreaming mind, I called out his name. ::Brad. Brad, wake up. It's okay, I'm here.:: I reached for him, leaning in deeper than I normally would have dared.

 

Images threatened to drag me into the dangerous waters of sleep, where memory and fancy merge. Like the edges of an old mariner's map, the warning sign read “here there be monsters” right before one might plunge over the edge and into the aether. My concentration slipped a fraction, and I felt myself slide under. I saw what looked like a castle courtyard, with high walls of darkened stone, and fire, and a beautiful youth with the eyes of an angel. A voice whispered the name “Bradley”…

 

“Schuldig, snap out of it!” Brad shook me by the shoulders, my head lolling bonelessly with each move. Slowly, too slowly, the world started to reassert itself around me, calling me back to myself with the trill of crickets.

 

“Bradley,” I whispered, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth.

 

Brad stared, his expression one of mingled shock and dread; then he pinched me hard on the ear.

 

“Ow! Hey!” I flinched back, my groggy mind snapping to full alertness. The dream images broke apart like smoke.

 

“What possessed you to do such a stupid thing? You know better than to go into a dreaming mind even when you're at your best, and you are not, need I remind you, at your best right now.” Brad's breath came in ragged gasps, as though he'd been startled out of a deep sleep. He wiped absently at his eyes, not bothering to reach for his glasses.

 

Then I remembered what had happened, and I realized he had been rudely awakened, by me. “Damn, I'm sorry,” I murmured, looking around to see if we'd woken the others. We hadn't, probably thanks to Brad's pinching me rather than slapping me awake. “You were having a nightmare, I didn't want you drawing any attention.”

 

Brad nodded absently. He looked distracted, like he was caught in a vision, or the comet-tail of dreams. “Thank you, Schuldig,” he murmured, his voice still rough.

 

“Want to talk about it? I think you're getting repeaters again.” Something about this dream had tried to come with me, but the shock of breaking the contact had shattered the remnants to ash.

 

Brad shook his head. “No, not really,” he whispered. “It happens from time to time, nothing to worry about.”

 

I regarded my own sleeping pallet, then his, and said, “Well, would you like some company tonight? Nothing kinky, just…company?”

 

Brad reached out and cupped my chin in his hand. He gazed into my eyes for many moments; his own eyes reflected the starlight. He took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then nodded. “I'd like that, actually.”

 

We bedded down together, him holding me and me snuggled warmly against his chest. He draped his arm over my waist and buried his face in my hair. Suddenly he seemed just as young and frightened as any of us, though Brad was haunted by his future as well as his past. I sighed and relaxed back into him, wondering which direction of time had sent him his nightmare.

 

“Bradley…”

 

Some sense of being watched dragged me out of my sleep. Dreams did not follow. Farfarello sat a short distance away, contemplating our sleeping arrangement.

 

::Far? You okay?:: I asked, disengaging from Brad's embrace and locating his gun.

 

::Aye. You?::

 

::Fine, thank you for asking. What's going on?::

 

The Irishman heaved a sigh and looked toward the moon. ::You're lucky, you know that? More than you can count.::

 

I had no idea where he was going with this, and that was usually a bad sign. Farfarello had his own map of the ancient mariners, and beyond the edges the monsters were real. I frowned at him. ::Thanks, I think. Shouldn't you be sleeping?::

 

::Can't. Too many thoughts.:: He looked away from me, from the sky. ::Too many if-onlys.::

 

Careful not to wake Brad, I got up and approached Farfarello. I wanted to get him away from the others, in case this was about to explode into a bad situation. ::Want to talk about it?:: I offered, not sure how best to proceed now.

 

Far rose from his crouch and walked with me a little ways away, his stride loose and steady. ::What is the value of a man, Schuldig? Is it in his service, to lord, God, and country? Or is it something else that makes a life worth living?::

 

::Being able to look at oneself in the morning mirror is a big part of it,:: I replied. For a moment this conversation seemed connected to Brad's nightmare, though I had no clue why I would think such a thing.

 

::Is it in loving, or in being loved, that we find worth, then?:: Far stared at me with that inscrutable gold eye. Hunger gleamed within it.

 

I reached for the best answer I could give him. ::I think they say it's in loving someone else that we are at our best. Why?::

 

Far scowled a moment. Then his shields came up and locked me out of his thoughts. “No reason.”

 

I stared at him a moment, astonished that he would block me like that. Then it hit me, and I gaped at him. “Far, are you in love?”

 

“I didn't say that,” he hedged, clearly wanting to back out of the discussion.

 

I wasn't about to let him. “Come on, talk to me! We're best friends, for crying out loud!” It occurred to me that I might be the object of his affection, and that was why he didn't want to tell me. My mind started concocting ways I could let him down easy. Far was my friend, nothing less but nothing more.

 

“It wouldn't matter if I was, there's not a thing to do for it now.” Far started walking back toward the camp. Then he paused, back still to me, and asked, “What would you do, in my place, Schuldig? Would you tell him? Or would you hold your silence?”

 

Him? Tell him? Wait a minute… “Far,” I breathed, “are you in love with Nagi?”

 

He bowed his head. “None of your business.”

 

I strode around in front of him and tried to make eye contact. He avoided me. “Far, there's nothing wrong with love,” I said, tasting the hollowness in my words as they fell from my tongue. I didn't really believe that, I hadn't believed in the purity of love for a very long time. Yet it was the only thing I could think to tell him. If his obsession with Nagi had gone from religious mania to paranoid theory to some form of affection, who was I to say that wasn't an improvement? And, who was I to call it wrong?

 

“There's everything wrong with it,” he hissed, glaring at me. “I can't spend two days without losing part of that time, and I know what I do during the blank spots. I know what I've done to the boy already. Madmen do not have the options of the sane, Schuldig. It's just not possible.”

 

“What, so you'll stare at him and obsess and pine, and never tell him how you feel?” I blurted, getting unaccountably angry with him. “Think, man! You deserve to be happy as much as anyone!”

 

“And the boy deserves to be safe, as much as anyone. And I am definitely not safe.”

 

“There comes a time when we all have to choose between safety and freedom,” I rambled, the words tumbling from an unknown reservoir. “Do you want to die never telling him you loved him?”

 

Far drew himself up and said, “It would be for the best.”

 

“How are you so certain?”

 

“Let it alone, Schuldig. I'm tired.” He turned and started back to the camp again.

 

“If you didn't want my advice, why the fuck did you wake me up?”

 

“Go back to your bed,” Farfarello snarled, “and let me be.”

 

I reached for his arm. “Far, come on. You've got to tell him.”

 

“I told you to let me be!” My friend pulled sharply away, then sprinted toward a stand of trees on the far side of the campground.

 

I shook my head in mingled aggravation and sorrow. It explained so much, while solving nothing. His fascination with Nagi had begun small, growing as our team grew closer. Far had never given a hint of this, though. It had all seemed a manifestation of his madness, the staring, the stalking, the occasional cutting. Add unrequited love into the mix and the situation became a timebomb.

 

With reluctant steps I returned to our little camp to find Brad keeping watch, his gun in hand.

 

::Far left,:: I told him.

 

Brad only nodded. ::He won't be gone long. We're still leaving tomorrow. Don't worry, he'll find us again before we leave the country.::

 

He didn't say if that would be a good thing, or a bad.

 

 

 

A/N:

but you don't really care for music, do you?

 

“Hallelujah”, continued.

 

During their absence from one another, it seems that not only has Nagi gained a new confidence around Farfarello, but the Irishman has discovered things as well.

 

One might wonder with Schuldig what that all has to do with Brad's recurring nightmare - a love denied, a heart in pain? - and whether it will drive both men mad (or further mad) before it's done with them.