Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 88 ( Chapter 88 )

88

 

We are half destroyed and paranoid
And fearing what might be

 

I did not want to be here. Not like this.

 

I hitched the hotel towel tighter around my middle and peeked out the window. Colorful maples and other trees I didn't know the names of bowed and dropped leaves in the wind. We'd only been in this country for two days, and things had already gone to shit.

 

And somewhere out there, Farfarello hunted. He'd waited until I was in the shower today before slipping out of the room, leaving only a cryptic note behind. “He is my destiny. I will not involve you before the time is come. Go in peace and be safe.”

 

Two minutes ago I'd come out of the bathroom and found my friend gone, the scrap of paper precisely folded upon my pillow. One minute ago I'd stopped mentally screaming and decided to deal with this calmly.

 

The car keys still sat where they had been. Nothing of mine had been moved. Nothing of Farfarello's remained behind.

 

Was this what Brad had Seen? Had he wanted this to happen?

 

I sighed, coughed a bit. Debated having a smoke, decided I'd abused my lungs enough with canned airline and hotel air lately. All I really wanted was sleep, and that was the one thing I could not have. There was no way I could stay here and allow Far to do whatever he had in mind. And I had a pretty good idea what that involved.

 

Another five minutes and I was back in the car, heading toward a neighborhood I'd never thought to see again. I hadn't intended to seek him out, I'd almost come to terms with the idea that Yohji would not be a part of my life. Now I couldn't stop wondering what I would find when I got there.

 

And I couldn't stop wondering if this was what Brad had planned all along. The hints, the gentle pushing, the not-so-subtle shoving out the door.

 

Would Yohji be waiting to hand me over to Kritiker?

 

Lips set in a grimace, I drove fast and hard, knowing only that I had to get there before Far could even get close. I tried calculating bus and train speeds, stopovers, things like that, but quickly gave up. My only hope was to haul ass as best I could and pray it was enough.

 

What if Far located his quarry, and found Yohji there with him?

 

Traffic parted ahead of me, closed obediently behind as I hurtled past. Blue-white flashes of pain sparkled behind my eyes, but I knew I dare not give in. Speed was my only ally at this point, and for that I was willing to sacrifice a little bit of comfort.

 

I tried not to think about what I would find if I arrived too late.

 

Minutes, kilometers, hours, heartbeats later I parked down the block from a familiar apartment building. I couldn't tell from the street if the corner flat were occupied or vacant: the shades were drawn and no light seeped through.

 

On shaky legs I hurried up the stairs until I stood before the door that had come to symbolize safety in my heart.

 

I knocked.

 

Breathless from exertion and from worry, I felt myself grow lightheaded. I leaned heavily against the door frame.

 

The door opened.

 

Yohji stood there, a cigarette dangling from his lip and his eyes widening in startled recognition. A flurry of emotions crossed his face before settling into a surprised smile. “Hey, stranger!”

 

I swallowed against my own sudden rush of conflict. “Hey yourself. Can I come in?”

 

“Sure. You okay?” His eyes looked hooded, guarded, as though he, too, were worried this evening.

 

Had something already happened? Memory of the past months rolled through me, swirling around like leaves in the gale, culminating in an image of the Berserker in all his primal glory. I stumbled, allowed Yohji to hold me up a moment as I clung to him and tried to catch my breath. “No,” I gasped, “I'm not okay. He's here, in Japan. You have to warn your friend!”

 

“Whoa, who's here?” Yohji asked, glaring into my eyes as though interrogating a distraught witness. “Say again, what's wrong?”

 

“Farfarello,” I breathed. “He, oh gods, Yohji…” I couldn't push the memory away. As surely as though Nagi were pulling me down again, I felt myself falling into the slaughter at Bald Mountain. “I couldn't stop him. I couldn't stop any of it.” And, for the first time since the ambush, I felt all the panic and the sorrow and the dread of it. For the first time, I had a safe place to process all the hellish things I'd been witness to, and I clung to Yohji for dear life. No fist fights, no brassy coolness, no pretending nothing had changed - my control shattered, taking me with it.

 

For one brief moment I wondered if we were truly alone here, but I honestly couldn't bring myself to care. Sanity trembled under the force of memory, washed through me in a flood of salt rain. I'd spent the last decade pretending to be a man, a cold, harsh man who could kill without remorse; all of that broke into a cascade of tears. Here, in this one last refuge, all the fears and sorrows of the child I'd once been poured into me and through and left me gasping.

 

When I could move again, Yohji ushered me to the sofa and eased me down. He folded his long legs under him and sat beside me, gazing into my eyes as though searching for the last shred of humanity there. I hoped he might find it for me, as I felt I'd left it behind somewhere in Poland.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, the worry still sharp in his eyes.

 

“Farfarello happened,” I replied, my voice breaking into a hoarse croak. “You have to warn your friend, Yohji. Farfarello is looking for him. Right now.”

 

“Ken can take care of himself,” Yohji said, his tone a little harsh.

 

“You don't understand,” I told him, my momentary lapse quickly turning into that well-drilled calm of a team second. “We were ambushed, Yohji. They led us into a trap, but they thought they could handle Farfarello. They were wrong. I watched him tear through a dozen men like they were paper. He saved us, but now he's back on that damn antichrist kick.” I fumbled in my pocket, pulled out the note. “Here.”

 

Yohji frowned at it, and for a moment I tried to remember if I'd ever seen him read English. Then he sighed. “All right, let me make a call.” Still holding the note, he got up and strode toward the chair by the window. His cell phone lay on the armrest. Yohji began dialing, frowned, and started over. “Oi, otooto! Hai, Yohji des'!” The rest of his words vanished in a blur, my grasp of the less-formal forms of Japanese eluding me neatly. I caught “Ken-kun” in there a couple of times, but without locking into Yohji's mind I couldn't get the entire conversation. That was all right, so long as he was delivering my warning. That's all I'd come here for.

 

“You've known what you have to do. Now you know why.”

 

Suddenly I knew who Yohji was talking to. I scrambled for a pencil, a pen, anything to write with. Finding a pen but no paper, I wrote on the palm of my hand and held it up for Yohji to see:

 

T E L L H I M .

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

We are half destroyed and paranoid
And fearing what might be

 

“We Could Have Flown Like Pollen” - ThouShaltNot The White Beyond

 

I get the feeling Farfarello was only biding his time before making another pilgrimage to Japan. The fact that he did so now with Crawford's blessing…well, I wouldn't want to be the one to tell him that it might not be ordained. Which side Far serves in his own personal Apocalypse is still open to speculation.

 

And a Special Note:

Leia A., if you are still reading…a little bird told me that somewhere a friend is wishing you all the happiness in the world and asking absolutely nothing in return. Peace and joy be with you all of your days, just because. ^_^