Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 82 ( Chapter 82 )

82

 

in this silence I can hear

all the fury and the fear

but I promise you my love

I will not leave you here

 

A few hours of oblivion, a handful of junk food, a bottle of caffeine and a stick of stolen chewing gum made me feel nearly human again.

 

I knew that Brad had wanted to go directly from target to target, but with my meltdown he changed his plan without breaking stride. As soon as I declared myself functional, Brad pulled the car over and traded seats with me. “Make a circle, veering right,” he told me by way of directions. “We need time to rest before the next stop. Come back around to this road before sunrise and I'll take over the driving.”

 

The night passed as all nights pass for a moving target: too damn slow. By the time dawn lit the horizon, we were very low on fuel, and my passengers were restless and hungry.

 

Rather than search for a filling station, we caught an unwary motorist and traded cars at gunpoint, then switched vehicles again at a rest stop. As I drove away, Brad stared blankly into the eyes of a vision. It only lasted a few moments. He checked his watch the moment he tuned back in to the present, then he put his hand on my arm. ::We need to waste some time. There's movement ahead of us.::

 

::Did they anticipate your plan?:: I asked, a little afraid of what it might mean if they had.

 

But Brad shook his head. ::Reaction, not anticipation. They're sending reinforcements to all the border units.::

 

::And we're still going there?:: I glanced over at him. ::Explain to me how this is a good thing.::

 

Brad gave me a rather lupine smirk as he replied, ::It's exactly what I was hoping they would do. I wish I could tell you more, but I can tell you this - I'm not the only one who noticed.::

 

::And that made no sense whatsoever. Thanks, Brad, you just left me more upset than you found me. Nice work.::

 

::Pull over, drama queen. I'll drive for a while.::

 

Brad let the countryside hide us, making our stops random and few. Late that afternoon we pulled into another narrow parking lot, and once again Schwarz stormed an Esset checkpoint. This time, however, Nagi shorted out the cameras before we ever left the car: there would be no video record of this visit. And this time, rather than simply overwhelm the minds of the agents inside, Brad told me to show them different faces, a different rogue team on the loose. The extra operatives would only add confusion with their reports, as they were actively expecting us and my sleight of mind turned their assumptions to chaos in an eyeblink.

 

With no evidence otherwise, Esset should have a hell of a puzzle to sort out.

 

Nagi took roughly four minutes to plant contradictory information on their server, laying a false trail that would look as though someone had downloaded all the data to an untraceable location. Then he introduced a program that would destroy or distort all data that had any connection to that checkpoint's server. He made it look like a professional hacker had done the deed from outside.

 

While Nagi worked and Farfarello ransacked the office for data backups and random souvenirs, I kept a steady illusion upon us all. In spite of the constant effort, I felt a surge of energy and strength within myself that I hadn't expected. The growing headache faded away, leaving me clear-headed and nearly glowing with optimism. As we left that building, my mood was higher than it had been in weeks. In a way, we were pranking Esset, leading them on a wild goose chase with phantom geese.

 

Or rather, phantom geese disguised as phantom ducks. The only evidence of Schwarz was the momentary disruption in the camera system before the whole thing went dead, and that was purely circumstantial. As far as the operatives were concerned, four swarthy men in matching paramilitary gear had breezed in, overridden their systems, then vanished like morning fog.

 

Nagi kept hold of their electrical system as Brad drove away. When he let go, the backlash of energy ran through their radio tower, effectively frying their connection to Esset's network. I hurried to switch off the car radio as it whistled with feedback and sympathetic static.

 

“Excellent work, gentlemen,” Brad stated, his voice rough with excitement. “Things are falling into place by the hour. This will work.”

 

In the absence of the anticipated hideous headache, I helped myself to a soda and joined Farfarello in a candy-bar toast.

 

“To being excellent!” Far offered, raising his snack on high.

 

“Be excellent to each other!” I replied, tapping my candy against his in a shower of crisp chocolate confetti.

 

Nagi groaned. “Schuldig, that was awful.”

 

“What? I love that movie!”

 

“No, not that. You dropped candy all over me.” He tried to wipe the crumbs off without smearing them, but to no avail. With a sigh he slumped back in his seat and glared out the window.

 

Farfarello popped open a box and offered Nagi a wet-wipe.

 

The good mood lingered into the night, through a satisfying nap and even remained while I took my turn driving. At Rosenkreuz, they had always claimed that practice could make a telepath stronger, and I had gotten rather complacent of late. The workout against the second checkpoint had left me feeling more satisfied than I'd been in a long time, at least as far as my telepathy was concerned.

 

As we approached our third target in as many days, Brad cautioned me that we would probably run into even more agents there. “They've had two days since the first sighting, and their nearest neighbor has been rendered inoperable,” he stated, managing to sound only vaguely smug. “They will be prepared, though they won't be quite certain what they're prepared for. Show them yet another set of four, Schuldig. Hit them hard and fast.” He glanced at me and added, “If they struggle too much, take them out.”

 

“Is that part of your strategy, or are you worried I might not be able to handle them all?”

 

“I'll do it,” offered a soft whisper from the back seat, the voice devoid of inflection. “Pretty's but a trickster. I am the hand of Death.”

 

::Shit!::

 

Brad's mental voice was tense as he stated, ::I'm driving, Schu. Deal with it, quickly please.::

 

“You're talking about me again.”

 

Nagi edged away from Farfarello to huddle by the door.

 

“Yes, we were,” I said, forcing a light tone. “I was bitching about you, Far. When you called me `Pretty' it reminded me of Schreient.” I hoped against hope that changing the subject to something petty would make things better, not worse. If I guessed wrong, we'd have a very bad situation before Brad could stop the car.

 

This time, though, I'd managed to get it right and screw it up all in one breath. Farfarello paused to consider what I'd said, but Nagi seemed to wilt at my words. Sudden comprehension made me wish I could turn back time, either just over two minutes or just under two years. We'd never talked about that day, the day the last apparent shred of Nagi's innocence had died. Me and my big mouth - in trying to defuse Farfarello, I had managed to remind Nagi of one of the worst moments of his short life.

 

::Nagi, I -::

 

::Shut up, Schuldig.:: Nagi glared, his mental voice like stripped metal. ::You left me.:: His shields shut me out as neatly as a well-maintained airlock.

 

And here I'd thought he was upset about the girl.

 

::She left me too,:: came the tiny murmur of thought before Nagi hid within himself completely.

 

Far took note of Nagi's withdrawal, then aimed a furious glare at me. The copper and gold of his eye whirled like a distant galaxy. Then his features relaxed and he shrugged. “You're lying, Schuldig. You weren't talking about that.” He leaned toward Nagi, one hand reaching over to prod his shoulder. The vague lilt seemed to be returning as he asked, “D'ye know why I call him Pretty, little rabbit?”

 

Nagi didn't react that I could see, but Far smiled and kept talking as though the kid had invited the conversation. “The first time we met, I told Schuldig that he was the prettiest German I'd ever seen, the only pretty one at all, in fact. That's what set him apart from the others, you see. Pretty. That, and he's not as much of a pervert as the rest of them.”

 

“Not as much?” I asked, vaguely insulted but not sure why.

 

Still facing the window and giving no indication he'd even heard Farfarello, Nagi snorted a little laugh. “Schuldig, he's saying you're still a pervert, just not a very good one.” Then he glanced at the madman sitting next to him as if checking to make sure that this comment was, in fact, funny.

 

Far winked at him, a gesture that had taken some getting used to, to tell it apart from a one-eyed blink. The lines around both eyes crinkled up when he winked, and this time his features fairly glowed with laughter. “See? Even our little rabbit knows what you are.”

 

“Ha ha,” I grumbled, though not really upset. At least he'd gotten Nagi to laugh, even if it was at my expense.

 

“Look sharp, gentlemen,” Brad stated, either unaware of or dismissing my faux pas and the ensuing drama. “We have a checkpoint to take down.”

 

 

 

 

A/N:

in this silence I can hear

all the fury and the fear

but I promise you my love

I will not leave you here

“Orphean Wing” - The Crüxshadows Wishfire

 

Okay, so I'm commenting on the song. My Nagi has a real problem with abandonment. In the aftermath of the destruction of Schreient, the rest of Schwarz was nowhere to be seen as Weiß contemplated Nagi and Tot, motionless among the wreckage, hands entwined. Then, in a surreal moment, lightning flashed as Tot staggered to her feet (and her eyes looked hauntingly like Nagi's). Did Nagi wake among the rubble, alone except for Tot's equally abandoned toy rabbit? Is this song about Nagi and Tot, then? Nagi's loss of trust and whatever innocence he still possessed? Or is it Farfarello's unrequited love for Nagi - and Nagi's unacknowledged return of that love? All I know is, this song makes me cry every damn time I hear it…

 

“Be excellent to each other!” - The quote is from “Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure”, a most excellent movie that at least half of Schwarz and your humble writer highly recommend.

 

The German word for “pretty” is, of course, “schön”, the name of the whip-wielding former model in Schreient.

 

The fact that Farfarello can bring Nagi out of his despair with a few words is not a coincidence. In a way, they speak the same language. Remember, my Nagi is autistic - he sees a different reality than the one Schuldig or Brad live in. Farfarello has a valid passport for that reality.