Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 86 ( Chapter 86 )

86

 

“I did nothing - except get caught with my britches down.”

 

Low voices intruded on a dream of warm breezes and tulips. Funny; as I swam up out of sleep, I could still smell Nagi's hair and the musty scent of a warehouse floor. Reality asserted itself with slow surety, not needing to rush things just yet. Though I couldn't get a fix on the current date, I knew that I wasn't in Amsterdam with Nagi. I just couldn't quite figure out where we actually were.

 

My shoulder jolted with a bump in the road. I realized I was lying in the back seat of a “borrowed car”, and the reason I'd been dreaming of that side trip with Nagi was probably due to the fact that he lay half-sprawled across my lap.

 

From the front seat, the low voices clarified into a conversation between Brad and Farfarello. I shifted a little and tried to listen as a lingering headache warned me against too much movement.

 

“…no-win scenario, then?”

 

“Basically, that's about it.” Brad sounded exhausted. “If I forsake my gift, we have no advantage. If they can reliably manipulate my gift, the advantage is theirs.”

 

A long pause made me wonder if I'd drifted back to sleep.

 

Then: “I smelled your fear.”

 

Brad glanced over at the Irishman. “Did that give you your answer?”

 

“You weren't expecting them. I knew that.”

 

Another pause.

 

“Schuldig, are you awake?”

 

Brad must have noticed me fidgeting. “Yeah, mostly.” I scrounged for a bottle of water and something for the pain. Between the beating my mind had taken and the physical damage, I hurt all over. My shoulder burned. Dimly I recalled careful hands cleaning the bullet track and fastening bandages across it; I was pretty sure Far had done the doctoring. Somewhere along the line I'd managed to change clothes, too: my knees ached, but at least they weren't wrapped in muddy denim anymore. I still couldn't figure out how long I'd been sleeping.

 

“Were you listening?”

 

Far turned his head slightly, peeking at me across the bridge of his nose. “Aye, I think he was, Crawford.”

 

Brad made eye contact with me through the mirror. “Your position?”

 

“Underneath Nagi, at the moment,” I mumbled, trying to get a little more comfortable without disturbing the kid. For all I knew, he was only sleeping now. Moving carefully, I propped Nagi against his door and made sure his seatbelt was secure. Then I met Brad's reflected gaze again. “You mean about the clusterfuck?”

 

Brad scowled. “Yeah, that.”

 

I sighed and tried to think. Far clearly believed that Brad had not betrayed us. Was that enough?

 

No. I couldn't allow it to be enough. It simply wasn't protocol to accept without making my own decision. Though we no longer followed Esset's rules, the team's survival still hinged upon my assessment of our leader. It was my duty as Brad's second, and as the team telepath, whether we were Esset or free agents. I cleared my throat. “Let your shields down.”

 

“Farfarello, can you drive a while?”

 

“Aye.” The Irishman gave me a bland glance, neither approving nor disapproving of my request.

 

Brad pulled off the road and traded seats with Far. The Irishman moved quickly in spite of the splint. He'd changed it out for something less bulky, but his ease of motion still astounded me. The man could take enough damage to pulverize a rhino and just walk away from it - usually after returning the favor tenfold on his enemy.

 

As we aimed for the highway again, Brad handed me his gun, then tilted his seat back as far as it would go. He removed his glasses, folding them over the collar of his shirt, then visibly forced himself to relax. I could tell that he really didn't want to do this now, before reaching some sort of safety, but he knew I could not let him choose the time. Truth-scans are a delicate business, if you didn't want to hurt the subject, and Brad wasn't going to make me force him.

 

I rested my hands on his shoulders, my thumbs lying against the bared skin of his neck. Physical contact helped bring me into synch with him faster. His pulse echoed against my fingers, pulled mine into the same strong rhythm. Strong, and angry. Angry, and frightened. Frightened, and…

 

Beneath the surface layers of emotion, Brad's thoughts blazed loudly, writhing with doubt and a gut-wrenching sense of guilt. The guilt seemed to have its roots far in the past, shadowed and deep; not relevant to this day. The doubt, however, was fresh. It screamed and twisted, angry and hot and virulent. It was this that had lashed out at me in the rain, and if Brad weren't careful it would be this that would become his undoing.

 

And he knew it.

 

::I fucked up, Schuldig. But I did not betray the team.:: Brad relaxed into the contact and allowed me to see the events through his eyes. He'd been concerned about me - this thread pulled away from my touch, huddled in darkness. An answering echo in me warned against pursuing it just yet, so I let it pass. He'd sought a place where the team could, indeed, rest in safety for a few days. And his visions had led him there, as clearly as though the road had been lined with signs for our benefit.

 

Brad's hindsight painted the betrayal with neon-bright disgust. ::I should have known, I should have sensed the trap. It was too easy, too clear, too perfect. I had come to want to find such a place, and such a place had been made ready to receive us, and I had never doubted it for a second. If it weren't for Farfarello, we would all be dead, and not by any hand but mine.::

 

The image of myself locked in helpless futility with Nagi roared through Brad's mind. Hot upon its heels came Brad's own decision. ::Almost out of ammunition, damn it! Wait, Schuldig never drew his gun…trusting this thing is fully loaded, no time to check. Have to keep two shots in reserve. At the very least one, please if there is a god let me have two shots left…::

 

Slowly, gently, as though withdrawing from sex, I disentangled myself from him. His emotions clung to me, wringing tears from my eyes. Brad would have shot me and Nagi with a single round, gambling that Nagi would allow it, and gambling that he would have one bullet left for himself, rather than allow Esset to take us.

 

His voice rough, Brad whispered, “Those operatives weren't there to kill us. They were retrieval units. I recognized their strategy when they started moving.”

 

I leaned over him in as much of an embrace as I could manage around the car seat.

 

Strong arms encircled my shoulders in return. “I won't let them take you, any of you. I'd kill you myself before I'd ever allow that to happen.”

 

A fey corner of my mind offered up a prayer that Brad Crawford should always have at least three bullets, and perfect aim.

 

I sat back and tried to compose myself. The headache gnawed at me, though the pain meds had blunted its bite.

 

Brad glanced up at me and offered me a little smile. His eyes looked like windows into Hell. “We'll get through this,” he murmured, his hand lifting to touch my cheek.

 

I leaned into the caress, wishing we were anywhere else but here.

 

“Before you ask it,” Brad said, “Nagi will be waking up in the next few hours. Make sure he eats something.” The last word came out on a yawn. Beneath my hands, I could feel his muscles going slack with exhaustion.

 

“I will. You get some sleep. I've got your back, Brad.”

 

His hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as though fashioning a lifeline out of silk. Only when he had that lifeline did he allow sleep to pull him under.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

“I did nothing - except get caught with my britches down.”

Captain Kirk - “Star Trek II - the Wrath of Khan”

 

The worst betrayal comes from the enemy closest to one's heart. In this case, Brad's own precognition has been turned against him: all of Konnor's trial runs with the “mice” have culminated in this one event.

 

Basically, Esset just threw doubles; can Brad get himself and the rest of his team back off the bar before Esset makes a clean sweep of it? That's the problem with backgammon: sometimes the dice favor the other guy.