Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 87 ( Chapter 87 )

 

 

87

 

Ach, und könnt ich doch nur ein einz'ges Mal, die Uhren rückwärts dreh'n…

 

We drove in silence, neither Far nor I feeling the need to clutter the minutes with conversation. Sunrise colors glowed around us, etching the mountaintops in sharp relief against the retreating night. The rain had stayed on the northern face of the Carpathians, unwilling to follow us across. Apparently it, too, had grown weary.

 

I watched our sleeping teammates, my attention drifting from one to the other. Brad looked as though he were recovering from a long illness, eyes shadowed and bruised. Nagi looked like a kid who'd worn himself out at play.

 

Behind those sleeping eyes, so many things I could not understand.

 

The gradual cessation of movement brought me awake. I yawned sheepishly; I hadn't even realized I'd dozed off.

 

“Oi, Schuldig,” Far murmured, parking the car a safe distance off the highway, “I'm calling a piss stop. Can you take a turn driving?”

 

“No problem.” I unfastened my seat belt and reached for my door as Farfarello opened his with a loud squeal of muddy hinges.

 

In front of me, Brad jerked awake with a shout. He flailed one arm as though warding off a blow, smashing his hand against the window with a sharp crack before clawing at his seat belt. The shoulder strap caught in the mechanism, locking in place as he yanked on it. As though moving by sheer instinct, his other hand managed to hit the belt release. Before the belt had time to fully retract, Brad grabbed the door handle and hauled it open, shoving his way out of the car with such violence that the door bounced back on its hinge and struck him hard in the side before swinging docilely shut in his wake.

 

“Ah, shit!” Hampered by his car seat in my lap, I struggled to get to him.

 

Beside me, a sudden change in pressure made my ears pop as static swarmed over my skin. Nagi had woken at the noise, and his power had gone into full defense mode. His eyes glowed dark indigo, and his fine hair floated about his head like a black halo.

 

“Stand down, kid!” I barked the order without thinking. “Wait here, I'll be right back!” I shoved the seat back upright, wrenched open my door, and sprinted after Brad on shaky legs.

 

He'd staggered several meters away from the car before collapsing to his knees, one hand braced against the dirt, the other wrapped around his midsection. Strands of vomit-tinged spit hung from his lips.

 

A small gleam caught my attention. His glasses had fallen in the weeds during his frantic flight. Reflexively I picked them up and checked for damage. They were scratched; I couldn't tell if the damage were new or old. Clutching his glasses like a talisman, I approached Brad with slow caution. ::Brad? Can you hear me? It's me, your beacon. See? Godawful red, right here.:: I wasn't getting through. His shields flared, pushing me away. Reflected on those shields I saw a cruel, proud face with piercing blue eyes. The image rippled and faded away like smoke.

 

Brad looked up, staring into the middle distance and not seeing me at all. “Que horas são?”

 

I glanced back at the car, whether for support or just to make sure I didn't have more than one crisis to worry about I couldn't say. Farfarello stood watch beside the front door, his weight balanced on his good leg and a throwing knife held lightly in one hand. Nagi had exited on the other side and watched us with dark and empty eyes.

 

Turning my attention back to Brad, I took a step closer to him, hands outstretched in what I hoped was a non-threatening gesture. ::Brad?:: No good. My head started to ache from the pressure of his shields. “Brad?” I had to get this sorted out, and fast. If he'd been attacked, that would spell disaster, but if this were solely from within him, that didn't bode well either. To make matters worse, at the edges of my thoughts I could hear Nagi's power whirring and growing like an overwrought electric transformer.

 

Brad coughed, spat, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He groped at his shirt collar for his glasses, found nothing, winced. “Schuldig,” he rasped, looking toward me but probably not seeing any more than an orange-topped blur. “What time is it?”

 

I glanced down at my watch. “Seven fifteen, give or take a few. I have your glasses. You okay?”

 

From behind me, Far stated, “We're in Romania.” I could hear him moving around the car, then he headed for the heavier brush a little distance away to relieve himself.

 

For a moment I found myself staring at his back as he tended such a simple, normal event. My mind still reeled from unresolved worry. I felt as though I couldn't catch my balance.

 

Soft footsteps approached, then passed. Nagi paused beside Brad and handed him a bottle of water before continuing on to tend his own business a fair distance away from Farfarello.

 

Brad had predicted the kid would wake up about this time. Had Brad caused him to wake? The interconnectedness of events still boggled my mind. That was a discussion better suited to Farfarello on a good day, and yet it was something Brad Crawford lived with in every hour of his life. I reached Brad's side and helped him stand, then offered him his glasses.

 

He frowned at them, gave them a half-hearted wipe on his sleeve, put them on. He regarded the foul puddle in the dirt and grimaced. Moving cautiously as though he might have to vomit again, he guided me a few steps away from the mess. He paused to rinse his mouth again, spitting the water behind us, then sipped a little. It stayed down, so he drank some more before trying to speak. When he did speak, his voice sounded frayed, rough with weariness and pain. “Schuldig, things have changed. I know what we have to do now.”

 

“Dream, or vision? Or just working it out? What happened, Brad?” I asked these things, fairly certain I wouldn't get a satisfying answer to any of them. “You scared the crap out of me, you know. And Nagi.”

 

“Just a nightmare,” he replied. “Then, things fell into place. Finally. And I understand something now that I should have figured out ages ago. About Konnor.” Brad seemed to shudder, a brief, hard twitch, before continuing. “Schoenberg. He's an object reader, Schuldig. And he knows me almost as well as you do. Has known, for some time.” His eyes darkened, shutting me out.

 

“Well, yeah, we knew he'd be trouble,” I muttered. I had the sudden awful feeling that there was much more to this than Brad would ever tell me, and I wondered if I dared to ask.

 

“More than trouble.” Brad's gaze met mine, and for one moment I saw pain and humiliation and soul-numbing grief etched there. “He is obsessed with finding me, and I have Seen him take the field. He's coming.”

 

“Shit.” Absently I noted Nagi and Farfarello returning to the car, the latter watching us closely.

 

“We have to split up.” Brad raised his hand to silence my immediate reaction. “Just listen. We don't have much time. I don't want to split the team, but we have to foul the trail. We have to double back to places we've been before, places that hold enough resonance of us that he will lose our scent. It shouldn't take long to throw him off, but we must act fast. If he gets too close, it's over. And,” he added with a thoughtful frown, “I have to take Nagi with me.”

 

“No. Brad, no! That's insane!” I hissed. “The kid's fried, Far's injured, I'm fucking exhausted, and you're -”

 

“I'm the one he's after.”

 

“Then you can't go with Nagi!”

 

Brad gripped my arms hard enough to hurt. “Neither can you. I can't explain it, you'll just have to trust me. I can't send Nagi with you, and I can't send him with Farfarello.”

 

“What about that weird thing he did, with the snow?” I asked, hoping Brad would see the sense of my dismay. “His power's changing, Brad. We need to know more, he's not safe like this.”

 

“I know, and that's why I can't send him with you.” Brad shook his head, then said, “Come on. Make use of the stop. I want to get back on the road. I'll explain as much as I can, fair enough?”

 

I sighed and followed him to the heavier weeds. Though I'd been drinking bottled water like a fish, I could barely go. Everything felt slightly wrong, the way it does when getting over a case of the flu. Then again, I'd been sleeping a lot; maybe I hadn't taken in as much water as I'd thought. Or just maybe it was difficult to tend to one's business while carrying on a telepathic discussion. I frowned in split concentration.

 

::Schuldig, my Sight may have led us astray, but there are some things I can wholly trust in spite of that. I've always been a strategist; that's not something the mice can affect. Take Farfarello and vanish into our past haunts for three weeks - that's all we need. Weave a confounding trail, and I shall do the same, and then we wait. I'm going on logic now, not visions. I want you to meet me in Sicily at the end of that three week period. The same airport we used for Esset business. Will you do this?:: Brad glanced at me, and for a moment his eyes seemed more alive than they had in weeks.

 

Alive, and filled with hope.

 

::I will,:: I replied before I'd even decided to do so. ::Three weeks.::

 

::Don't worry about Nagi, I'll work with him, figure out what's going on with his power,:: Brad told me as we headed back toward the car. ::And if you deem Farfarello in need of medical care, you know a number of safe places you can take him.::

 

My eyes widened. The only places I knew of like that…were in Japan.

 

Brad's eyes showed no surprise, only that steady calm fire. “You've known what you have to do. Now you know why.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

Ach, und könnt ich doch nur ein einz'ges Mal, die Uhren rückwärts dreh'n…

 

Ah, if only once I could set the clocks backwards…

“Kein Zurück” - Wolfsheim Casting Shadows

 

Yes, there is a strong echo of chapter 77 here. This time, it's not a choice, it's an order. One which Brad cannot explain in enough detail to ease Schuldig's worries. There are things in Brad's past which he is keeping from Schuldig, and they both know this. Some of them are tearing him apart, in these rare vulnerable moments.

 

And some keep him strong.

 

The deepest secrets…do both.

 

(For those not reading the other stories in this arc: Konnor is General Konrad Schoenberg, Brad's one-time mentor at Rosenkreuz. The proud face and blue eyes belong to him.)