Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 76 ( Chapter 76 )

76

 

…and I feel fine…

 

Sometimes insomnia is a relief. The inability to nod off is better than those brief, terror-filled dreams that jolt you awake before the body gets any benefit from sleeping.

 

The nightmares faded quickly, too quickly; their sudden absence fooled me into trying again, and falling into yet another dark corner of my weary psyche.

 

Now I lay awake and stared at the ceiling, my clothing and bedding soaked with sweat. I wanted a cigarette. Though I'd promised Brad more than once that I'd quit, something always came up to test my resolve, and I'd never claimed to have a lot of that. Tonight, the only thing slowing me down in my quest for a fix was Brad's prohibition against smoking inside the cabin, combined with Farfarello's observation that we seemed to have bats. Real, furry, squeaking, dive-bombing bats. And bats freak me right the hell out.

 

The craving got the better of me, as it usually did. Bats or no, I needed that cigarette. Trying not to wake the others, I crept through the cabin and out the front door, stopping only for shoes and smokes.

 

I paused on the porch and lit up, savoring the head-clearing nicotine.

 

“Can't sleep?” Brad's whisper carried through the hush. He lounged on the hood of the car, his back against the windshield. He held something small between both hands, raising it high above his face as though trying to cast its shadow from starlight. With his right hand he fiddled with something on its side, and I realized he was winding a watch.

 

I shook my head and strolled toward the car. “Not a damn bit. You?”

 

“No.” He lowered his hands and looked up at the stars.

 

I leaned against the fender, aiming my smoke away from Brad. “New watch?”

 

Brad smiled wistfully. “Old one. I've always liked antiques.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Brad chuckled but did not reply.

 

In the silence I half-heartedly listened for bats, though I was beginning to think Far had been pulling my leg on that one.

 

“How did Nagi do today?”

 

“He did all right,” I replied. “He's getting more control over his gift, though anything bigger than a cobweb still hurts him. Damn fine marksman, though fuck if I can tell if he's cheating.”

 

“Your weapons working out all right?”

 

“Mine pulls like a bitch, but I'll deal.” Somehow this conversation felt surreal, as if neither of us were really participating in it. I wondered for a moment if I were still asleep.

 

Brad sighed and raised the watch again, though I knew from the lighting that he could barely see the face. His voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, “Did you know that we're within a day's drive of my hometown?”

 

I looked at him, surprised at his candor. “I didn't know that.”

 

“It's true.” He closed his eyes, shutting out the watch and the world with it. “A double handful of hours south and east. And I can never go there again.”

 

I started to say something, closed my mouth again. I knew as well as Brad did why he couldn't go back. He'd kill himself, and his team, before allowing Esset to harm his family. Not for the first time I wondered if he'd kept tabs on them, knew whether they were all right or not. Then I realized, he couldn't possibly afford to. “God, Brad. I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't be. There's not a single soul at Rosenkreuz who isn't an orphan.”

 

“Yeah.” I looked up at the stars, the only things I would allow to make me feel small anymore, and for a moment I felt like a child again, staring into the heart of the infinite. Had I chased rainbows, wished on falling stars as a boy? My throat tightened. “I don't remember a damn thing before Rosenkreuz. Well, nothing that makes any sense, anyway. Bastards didn't even leave me a name, I had to come up with this one all on my own.”

 

“They took everything but mine,” Brad murmured, his eyes narrowing in memory.

 

I took a drag on my cigarette, then, with a grand gesture, I offered it to Brad.

 

He looked at me as if I'd sprouted antennae. “You know I never touch those things.”

 

“I know.”

 

Brad reached up and touched my shoulder. “But thanks for the sentiment.”

 

I smiled and ran a hand through my sweat-damp hair. “Anytime. So, is it really Bradley, or just Brad? Bradford? Bradmont?”

 

He laughed and waved a hand to stop me from invoking anything worse. “Yes, it really is Bradley, Schuldig.”

 

“Do you have a middle name or anything?”

 

He opened his mouth to reply when a soft crash sounded from inside the cabin. Brad leaped from the car and dashed to the porch, pocketing the watch somewhere along the way; I buried my cigarette with a quick kick and ran after him.

 

Inside, Nagi stood frozen in the corner behind his overturned cot. Farfarello loomed over him like a revenant.

 

“Stand down!” Brad commanded, snatching up his hunting rifle from beside the door and taking aim at the Irishman's head.

 

Far graced him with a condescending smirk and whispered, “Ah, the nonbeliever comes to join our debate. Tell me, Crawford, are ye not the bringer of war?”

 

“If you do not back away from Nagi forthwith, I most certainly shall be. Now move!”

 

“You see?” Far murmured to the boy. “In time, ye shall all know as I know.” He stepped back, and I realized he'd been standing on the cot supports, using Nagi's own bed to trap him in the corner. He didn't have any knives visible, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

 

Though freed, Nagi didn't move.

 

“Stand over there, by the other wall,” Brad instructed the Irishman. “Schuldig, get the tranquilizer.”

 

“What are you afraid of?” Farfarello whispered. “The boy can't die. None of us can die.”

 

My hands shook as I unpacked a syringe and turned toward our mad teammate.

 

Brad's eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, we can't die? Explain.”

 

Farfarello smiled beatifically and shook his head. “You don't believe. You'll just think I'm crazy.”

 

“You are crazy. I want to know what you're talking about, and why you threatened a team member.”

 

“I never threatened him!” Far cried, his face a mask of misjudged anguish. “I tried to tell him, so he wouldn't be afraid anymore. We have work to do, we cannot die. Even when our work is done, we are not bound by mortal chains. Don't you see?” He turned toward me, stopping me flat in my tracks with the glare of accusation in his eye. “Pretty, you of all people should understand.”

 

“I might,” I told him, “if you'd clue me in, Far. You've lost me at the moment.”

 

“I was wrong,” Farfarello confessed, “but I've figured it out now. It took me a while to put all the pieces together. When Nagi refused to eat, everything snapped into place. Everything came clear.”

 

“Still lost, my friend. Help me out, here. What snapped into place?”

 

“Famine,” the madman whispered. “Death. Disease. And War. I'm not the heart of the apocalypse, I am one of its heralds. We all are.”

 

I cleared my throat, risked a glance back at Brad. He still held that rifle, steady as the madman's conviction. If I couldn't get the situation under control, we were about to become a three-man team. “Far, will you let me give you your medicine?”

 

“Maybe you should take it,” he suggested. “Might help you sleep.”

 

“No thanks. Makes me queasy.” I risked a step closer, then two.

 

Far held out his arm and allowed me to inject him, his expression all the while one of saintly patience. As I slid the needle out of his skin, he smiled and said, “You'll see, Pretty. You'll understand soon enough.”

 

Brad sidled closer to Nagi, bent slightly to pick up the kid's gun and hold it out to him. “Nagi, cover Farfarello so I can help get him into bed.”

 

Nagi didn't move.

 

“Nagi?”

 

Nothing.

 

::It's all right, Brad. I've got this.:: I guided Far back to his cot. Once he was settled, I collected my gear and left the madman to his dreams.

 

Brad set about barricading the bedroom door while I checked on our youngest teammate.

 

Nagi remained flat against the wall, his eyes wide and unblinking.

 

“Hey, chibi, you okay?”

 

No reaction. I could barely even tell if he was breathing.

 

“Nagi, snap out of it!” I gripped his shoulders and shook gently. He flopped like a rag doll in my hands. “Did he hurt you?”

 

Nagi gasped and flailed with his fists, seeming for all the world like a terrified eight-year-old waking from a nightmare.

 

I gathered him into my arms, holding him tight against my chest. “Shh, shh, it's over. You're safe, I'm here.” It was just like that other time, except now there was no blood. I patted him down to make certain of that fact. There were no wounds or even scratches, only the one old scar on his back, the reminder that Farfarello was to Nagi as the hunting snake is to the bird.

 

“Why?” Nagi hissed through clenched teeth. “Why do I always freeze around him?” He stared at me as though demanding an answer.

 

“I wish I knew, kid. I wish I knew.”

 

Brad joined us, setting his hand on the boy's thin shoulder. “What happened, Nagi?

 

“I woke up. Farfarello was sitting right next to my bed,” Nagi whispered. “He asked me if I understood the portents. He said that the hunters wanted us not because of what we've done but because of what we are.” Nagi looked into Brad's eyes as if willing him to understand, and said, “`When you catch the horsemen, you control the fate of the world.' That's what he told me. And when I tried to get up, to go get Schuldig, Farfarello tipped my cot over and blocked my way.”

 

“Why didn't you use the team link?” Brad asked, though we all knew the answer already.

 

“I didn't think,” Nagi whispered, eyes lowered. “I couldn't think. It's always the same, he's right there in my face before I can get away, and then it's too late.”

 

“We're moving out to the car for a while,” Brad stated. “Bring whatever you can carry. We may have to leave on short notice.” He didn't say what I knew he was thinking: we may have to leave Farfarello.

 

I stood there holding Nagi for a few more moments, until the kid pulled away on his own. Then I simply stood there, missing his warmth.

 

Brad touched my elbow and whispered, “We need to talk.”

 

We hauled our gear out to the car and got Nagi settled into the back seat. I didn't think he'd sleep much, but at least there was some barrier between him and the Irishman.

 

Brad gestured for me to follow him. I noticed that he now wore his pistol at his hip. He strode around the cabin, toward the area we'd been using for target practice. He took a deep breath as though about to speak. But rather than say anything, Brad reached down, picked up a rock, and pitched it into a nearby tree.

 

A frantic clatter preceded the cloud of bats startled from their hiding place.

 

I ducked, arms wrapping over my head and profanities dripping from my lips.

 

Brad watched the bats fly away, then murmured, “Sometimes, Farfarello isn't wrong.”

 

I straightened and glared at him, caught between the moment and the meaning. “What the fuck?”

 

Strong hands gripped my arms, and I found myself caught in the gaze of the Oracle. “He isn't wrong, Schuldig. Not in any meaningful sense of the term.”

 

“Nagi hates horses,” I blurted, my mind trying to get around this whole apocalypse thing by the shortest possible route. “Besides, the world's been on the brink of destruction since before man invented the printing press. What makes this time any different?”

 

“I'm not talking religion, Schu,” Brad whispered. “We are the heralds of the end of Esset's world, though from what I've Seen, we may not be the actual instruments of it.”

 

I swallowed; dread burned the moisture from my throat. “Anything you can elaborate on?” I croaked.

 

Brad shook his head. “How I wish I could.” He stared at my face for a long moment. “We need to pull the team together again. After tonight, I'm not sure how that will shape up. Nagi barely has a usable gift, and Farfarello has just tipped over into a dangerous phase. No matter what happens, those who hunt must never know. The moment they figure out just how weakened we are, it's all over.”

 

“Well, Nagi's made friends with his gun, at any rate,” I offered, “and when Far's bad off, all we have to do is figure out which direction to aim him and stand back from the mess. We're not that weak, really. Especially considering where we've come from. Besides, it's been over a year! You already said this was a record - either our luck is about to run out, or Far is right and we'll never die. I know what I'm betting on.”

 

“You're as crazy as he is, you know that, right?” Brad laughed. He picked up another rock, considered it, then let it drop. “Ah, Schu…” He shook his head and started to turn away.

 

My hands reached out on their own, pulling him back toward me before gliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders. His eyes looked black in the dim light; I leaned in close enough to see the patterns of smoky amber among the steady brown. My soul breathed in the essence of him as my lips touched his.

 

Brad seemed to melt, allowing me to hold him up for one brief instant before reasserting his dominance and leaning into the kiss. His hands came up to frame my face as he pulled back at last; his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Promise me something,” he whispered, voice harsh. “Don't leave. No matter what comes, don't leave me.”

 

I started to ask, but he rested his fingers against my lips. “You will want to go, very much,” he rasped. “Don't. Just…don't. I need you, Schuldig. And I will need you for the rest of my life.”

 

Change but one word, and that statement would have given my heart wings. As it stood, I could only nod and promise without understanding any more than that.

 

 

 

 

A/N:

…and I feel fine…

 

“It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” from No. 5 - Document by R.E.M. Dear God, what was I thinking? It's *impossible* to get a clean set of lyrics for this song! That's probably why it was once the #1 requested song on MTV's “Say What?”, a sort of “what the HELL are the lyrics??” program from the early 90's. As said by the person introducing this particular music video, “I've heard R.E.M. doesn't even know all the words anymore.” So, while the lyrics shall indeed appear on my website, they're as accurate as MTV made them, and, barring an official R.E.M. lyric sheet, that's my last word on the subject.

 

And, yes, we have bats in Michigan. They're the only thing able to catch those damn mosquitoes.