Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Convergence ❯ Convergence 1 ( Chapter 2 )

Convergence

Part One

 

There were many things that Takatori Mamoru knew he would lose when he assumed the mantle of Persia, head of Kritiker operations in Japan. He knew right from the start that he would lose his place in Weiß; that was a given. There was no way that he could count himself as one of the team and still be able to give them orders that might cost them their lives. He would lose the friendships that he had forged with his teammates over the years, the family that they had made. He would lose his sense of self, of being Tsukiyono Omi.

 

That bothered him more than he would have thought it would have at the time. It was just a name, he'd assumed so naively. When he had first accepted his grandfather's offer, he had truly believed that no matter what name he carried that he would be the same person inside. As time passed by it became painfully clear that Mamoru was destined to be a very different young man than his previous incarnation had been. That was a shame. He'd liked who he had been as Omi. A kid who was loved by his teammates, who would sacrifice anything for them. He didn't particularly like Takatori Mamoru. In fact, the more time went by, the more he hated Mamoru.

 

Whereas Omi would have willingly killed or died for his teammates, Mamoru viewed them as expendable tools, to be used and discarded as needed. Omi had watched out for them and loved them as if they were his blood kin. Better than his blood kin, considering who his relatives actually had been. Mamoru could not afford be constrained by such sentimentality. His focus was on operations and seeking to gain power over his rivals within Kritiker. The only consideration he had been able to offer his old teammates had been allowing them to walk away from Kritiker alive.

 

Mamoru frowned sharply, his gaze drawn almost unwillingly to the photo he kept on his desk. The four of them, before the damage had become impossible to ignore and when they were still a family. One of their many schoolgirl admirers had taken it shortly before they'd left Tokyo. Ken had his arms wrapped around Omi, his younger self laughing brightly as he tried not to drop the cluster of flowers he'd been holding. Aya and Yohji stood behind them, Yohji keeping his arm tightly around Aya to prevent the other man from avoiding having his picture taken. As usual, Yohji's face had been drawn up into a teasing smirk, while Aya's expression was one of resigned annoyance at his lover.

 

Whenever Takatori Saijou made one of his rare appearances at Mamoru's office, he would cast a chilling glance at that photo and make some snide comment about clinging so strongly to a past that could never be reclaimed. Despite his grandfather's criticisms, or simply to spite the old man, Mamoru refused to discard the photo. He needed it. It was a reminder of what he had willingly lost and of his greatest failure.

 

He had failed them all when they most needed him, thinking that he could manipulate events behind the scenes to protect his friends. He thought that by taking on the role of Persia that he could protect them from exploitation by other Kritiker leaders. After years of watching how Kritiker had used and destroyed so many other teams, he had to do something to protect his friends. He would not permit them to be treated as an expendable resource, not when he had the means to defend them.

 

Instead, one by one, he lost them all. He lost Ken to the madness of taking so many lives that he grew to hunger for it. He lost Yohji to the pain of a heart that seemed broken beyond repair. And Aya…

 

He lost Aya the minute he became Takatori Mamoru.

 

Of the three of them, he held at least some hope that Ken and Yohji would rebuild something of their lives. He had managed to convince his grandfather that neither of them were security risks, so he was confident that at least for the time being, both were safe. While they would probably spend their entire lives under some sort of surveillance, so far the organization seemed satisfied that allowing the two of them to remain inactive was no danger to the organization. He could not bring himself to think of what would happen if that assessment changed.

 

Mamoru stared at the red-headed man in the photo, wishing that he had even that small reassurance about Aya's well-being. Had Aya remained within the organization, he would not have worried so greatly. The older man was considered to have been an extremely valuable asset to Kritiker, one of the reasons why they had always gone to such lengths to draw Aya back in each time he had tried to leave the group. There had always been something they could use to pull him back, some promise, threat or coercion.

 

This time, there was nothing they could have done to keep him. His sister was healthy and safe under Mamoru's personal protection, and his lover was lost to him. In all honesty, Mamoru could understand why Aya would break his association with Kritiker so completely, choosing to abandon Japan and operate independently rather than remain under their control. A final act of defiance against those who had taken everything precious from him.

 

Still consolidating his power within Kritiker, Mamoru could do little at the time but follow his friend's trail as best he could. Aya lead a nomadic existence, never staying more than a few weeks in any given place. He traveled through Europe and most recently to England where according to reports, he continued on in the only trade that he knew. Where Aya went, death seemed to follow as his only companion.

 

There was something painful about that, he thought to himself. All of them, even he, had dreamed about a life without killing, or fantasized about what life might have been like had they not made the choices that lead them to Kritiker. Mamoru hoped that Ken and Yohji would finally find their peace, but he had reached the painful conclusion that Aya never would. Aya had chosen to walk this path farther than the rest of them and there was nothing that Mamoru could do to prevent it from happening.

 

Even more troubling, if he could find out where Aya was, so could Kritiker. For the time being, Kritiker had apparently decided to take a `wait and see' position, given the success that they'd had in bringing Aya back into service each time he'd tried to leave. So far, the organization as a whole had determined that Aya's actions were not a threat to their activities. He was confining his targets to the criminal elements that Kritiker traditionally operated against, but that was hardly any real security in Mamoru's opinion.

 

He knew better than anyone save for Aya himself that Kritiker did not tolerate that kind of open rebellion. Realistically, he knew that he had no authority over Kritiker groups in other nations. All they needed was the least excuse to target Aya, and Mamoru would be powerless to prevent it.

 

Mamoru buried his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. He'd tried so hard to save them all. He'd wanted to keep his friend safe, to know that so long as he was in power that he could protect them from Kritiker's mechanisms. He had all but begged Aya to stay. So long as Aya was nearby, he could offer that small measure of protection.

 

Just as importantly, he'd needed Aya's continued advice and guidance as he struggled to find his place as Persia and rebuild Weiß. New operatives taking his friends' places he could accept, but he wanted Aya's steadying presence. He wanted to know that when he didn't have the answers, that he could turn to the man who somehow always seemed able to come up with the solutions. He needed to know that at least one of their old team could emerge from that disaster whole, with his spirit intact and not hating Mamoru for the choices he had made. Aya dashed those hopes when he addressed his former teammate by his newly embraced name.

 

Mamoru sighed, still feeling the hurt that had lingered from that moment. He would never forget the icy expression in his friend's eyes at their last meeting, and Aya's abrupt refusal to help him.

 

“I've had enough of Kritiker and the Takatori family,” his friend had said coldly. “I've given them enough.”

 

Truthfully, Mamoru could not blame his friend. He could only blame himself for all that had happened. Not for the first time, Mamoru had to wonder if he had made the right decisions in regards to his friends. He knew that he had betrayed them when he took his position as Persia, but his betrayal of Aya went far deeper that that.

 

He saw first hand just what a toll losing Yohji had taken on Aya. Even though their relationship ended long before he'd sent Yohji and Ken to Europe, it was clear that the feelings between them were not going to fade so easily. Sending Yohji on assignment had seemed like an ideal solution at the time. He wanted to give them both what they needed, space to heal and either fix what was between then, or to give them the strength to walk away from one another.

 

Things had only gone from bad to worse afterwards. Yohji had returned to them even more unstable than he had when he left, and the mistrust between the old lovers seemed to have grown by leaps and bounds. Aya tried to focus his attention on his mission and watching over their younger teammates while Yohji struggled to find his increasingly shaky mental footing. It was no wonder that it had ended in disaster.

 

Telling Aya that Yohji had died at Koua, while not precisely a lie, had wounded Aya in a way that Mamoru would not have thought possible. He had wanted it to be a clean break for Aya, so that he wouldn't go on longing for what he could no longer have. Given that they were no longer lovers, Mamoru had truly believed that once the initial grief had passed, that Aya would find Yohji's absence more a relief than anything else.

 

Like nearly all other things in this debacle, Mamoru could not have miscalculated his friend's reaction more. He had expected sorrow and rage; but Aya did show any outward signs of mourning. Instead, Mamoru watched in as his friend reverted to that closed individual that first showed up at their doorstep so long ago.

 

All of his and Ken's attempts to reach Aya had failed miserably as they watched their friend increasingly retreat into himself. Mamoru had made one final attempt to speak to Aya, wanting to repair the hurt that he had caused. Instead, all he succeeded in doing was to drive his friend further away. Aya had barely waited for his own wounds to heal before boarding that plane out of their lives.

 

Aya's condemnation hurt more than anything else in this, Mamoru mused, studying his old friend's face in the photograph again. He respected the older man so much and he could never express how much Aya's leaving had wounded him. At first he was angry, not able to understand why Aya would not see that he had become Persia in order to protect his friends. He had been willing to sacrifice his own happiness and future for them. Now as months passed by, Mamoru could finally see himself as he had appeared to Aya's eyes. As much as Mamoru hated to admit it to himself, becoming Persia meant that he had chosen the Takatori family over his friends and would always put Kritiker first. He had become the same kind of cold, manipulating bastard that he and his team had always despised.

 

He wished that there was a way to undo the damage that he had unwittingly done. To give Aya and Yohji the chance to rebuild what had been between them, to give Ken back his sense of reason. To give himself back the innocence that he'd somehow managed to cling to all those years. But as Grandfather would remind him, wishes were useless in their world.

 

At least he had managed to assert himself as a very different leader than his predecessors had been. The losses he'd endured had taught him a brutally painful but valuable lesson. He would never forget the very human costs of his decisions. He would not treat his operatives like expendable tools, throwing them into danger until they were unrecognizable from the villains that they fought.

 

Despite the urging of the other Kritiker leaders on the governing council, he had not tried to reestablish Weiß. He had gone over the files of every candidate that Rex brought before him, each of them seemingly cut from the same cloth. Orphans, all of them, without family to care for them. All of them with a need to lash out at those who had hurt them. Young men with a history of violence and enough physical skills to make them ideal subjects to be molded into hired killers.

 

All that they lacked was a bit of specialized training and a weapon in their hands, but they would not get that from Mamoru. He could only see himself and his friends in their places. Though the cold, rational aspect of his mind argued that he could not afford such sentimentality, he could not bring himself to do to these boys what had been done to them.

 

What might have gone differently for them had Yohji been given a chance to let his heart heal after the death of his partner? Or if Ken could have rebuilt his life after the scandal that claimed his career. Or if Aya… well, perhaps not Aya. Aya's need for revenge had burned too fiercely to be denied. If Kritiker had not taken advantage of that need, other even less scrupulous parties might have. He would have found his way down that bloody path one way or another.

 

Despite the need for a Weiß team, he had funneled these young men into Kritiker's other, less lethal teams. He just could not bring himself to take advantage of the obvious pain these boys were in. Perhaps he would only be delaying the inevitable, but at least he could face himself in the mirror. These boys would have a chance not offered to Mamoru or his friends, to distance themselves from the initial pain that lead them to Kritiker before they had blood on their hands.

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder roused him from his mental woolgathering. Looking up at the calm expression on Nagi's face, he had to acknowledge that at least one thing in the past years had ended up for the better.

 

He would be hard pressed to describe exactly what Nagi was to him. Bodyguard and intelligence agent was his official station, but he was also most certainly one of the few true friends that he could count on. Confidant and conscience as well. Nagi had seen in his life the worst that an organization could become, how it would feed on its own operatives. Nagi knew him as well as he knew himself, was unafraid to argue and debate him when others would only show deference to his demands. Having Nagi by his side might prevent him from turning a blind eye to the kind of abuses that had occurred in Kritiker in the past.

 

The tingle he felt from Nagi's hand on his body reminded him of the less public aspect of their relationship. Though they shared a bed more often than not, to use the word `lover' was not quite accurate. Comforter and companion was perhaps closer to the truth. Neither of them was in a position to speak of it being anything deeper.

 

“Are you almost done?” Nagi asked softly, his voice calm and level as always. Only Nagi's eyes hinted at his concern. It was getting late and, as usual, Mamoru was pushing himself harder than he would anyone else.

 

Mamoru smiled tiredly, nodding. “Just about. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow.”

 

The telekinetic glanced at the files scattered across Mamoru's desk, recognizing them as dossier packets. “Rex is on your case again?”

 

“Her, my grandfather, the council… they want a new team up and running as of right now,” Mamoru said flatly, rubbing at his eyes. “Rex is at least being reasonable and will accept the candidates going to other teams. Grandfather is… let's just say that he disagrees with my decision.”

 

Nagi shrugged. “We need another team,” he reminded his friend. “Right now, the only intact team of veterans is the Crashers, and there's a limit in what you can demand of them.”

 

Which was Nagi's polite way of reminding him of how much animosity the Crashers felt towards him. They were professionals and would follow orders, but to a limit. There would be no blind trust in his leadership from them, not after what they saw at the Koua Academy. They had a front row seat in witnessing just how ruthless Kritiker's new leader could be and what he might be willing to sacrifice to reach his objectives.

 

It had come at a great personal cost to them. Aya's time with them had been brief and a long time ago, but they counted him as a friend. Mamoru regretted that he no option but let them think that Aya was dead, for their own protection. If they knew that Aya was still alive and on his own, nothing would prevent them from going to his aid. Kritiker would not tolerate rebellion from any of their other teams, not after losing Weiß so spectacularly.

 

Still, his decisions had left a distinct lack of operatives that he could assign to the lethal activities that were sometimes called for. A few solo agents and teams that were short-handed that could still handle smaller jobs, but no intact team of assassins. So far, the operatives he did have were able to pick up the slack, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time before something came along too big for these resources to handle.

 

“I know that. But I can't just throw these kids to the wolves.” He picked up one file with a picture of a young man barely fifteen years old pinned to the dossier. He hadn't been any older when he first started going on missions with Weiß. “This kid should be in school, not throwing his life away.”

 

Nagi took the file from his hands and closed it, placing neatly down on his desk, just out of his immediate reach. “You can't save all of them,” he reminded his friend. “For some of us, this is the path we have to walk. And if they don't find what they need with Kritiker, they'll find it somewhere else. If you turn these boys away, you might end up fighting them as enemies later. You know that if they join Kritiker, they can have some semblance of a life.”

 

Nagi was not telling him anything he didn't already know. He knew that he could not allow these young men to come under the control of the less-scrupulous elements, but he needed to give them some options. Grandfather could show all the disapproval he wished, but he had named Mamoru as his heir and given him at least titular authority in running the Japanese operations. If the old man didn't like how he was handling things, that was just too damn bad.

 

Well, there wasn't anything he could do immediately about any of the crisis he had to handle. Putting the files away for the evening, Mamoru rose from his chair and straightened his jacket. “Let's go. There's nothing that can't wait until morning.”

 

Nagi merely nodded silently, keeping whatever concerns he had to himself. This was hardly the first discussion they'd had on the subject. Mamoru knew that Nagi had his own misgivings about the direction that he wanted to take Kritiker in and his chances for success, and he could hardly blame his friend for his concern. Sentiment and morals were not conducive to the kind of leadership Kritiker demanded and walking that razor-thin line was a nearly impossible task. Every one of Mamoru's predecessors that had tried failed miserably. Mamoru knew painfully well that if he was unsuccessful, he would either lose what control he had, or become the very monster that he dreaded. There was no room for error.

 

The ride back to Mamoru's apartment was conducted nearly in complete silence. Nagi fell nearly seamlessly into his security role, watching carefully for danger while Mamoru tried to relax after a trying day. They were long past the point of needing pointless conversation to fill their rare peaceful moments. After fielding commands and requests all day, Mamoru cherished these few minutes of quiet when he could get them.

 

Dinner had already been set out on the table for them, left by the all but invisible staff that waited on the youngest member of the Takatori family. Mamoru knew without even looking that the apartment would be spotlessly clean, the covers on his bed would be turned down and the large tub in his bathroom would be filled and waiting for him. After having to be self-reliant for most of his life, the attention still left him ill at ease but he had to accept it as a symbol of his new status in life. It was a role that he had to play, the heir to an old family fortune in a great political drama.

 

Sitting at the table opposite Nagi, for just a little while he could pretend that he lived a normal existence. They talked quietly, making plans for a quiet day off planned the upcoming weekend. He felt himself finally beginning to really relax after a long day at work when his cellphone chirped loudly. Knowing exactly how few people actually had this phone number, the young man knew that whoever was calling him at this time would not be bearing good news. Sighing at the prospect of having his quiet evening ruined, he reluctantly answered. “Yes?”

 

As he expected, it was Rex. “I'm sorry to bother you this late, Mamoru,” she apologized.

 

“It's not problem, Rex,” he assured her, effectively hiding his disappointment behind the cool mask that he always donned when dealing with anything involving Kritiker. His voice remained calm and level, not betraying any hint of his true feelings. “What's the matter?”

 

“We just got an unusual email for you. Whoever sent it was able to hack into our system and bypass all of our security.”

 

Mamoru frowned, genuinely surprised at the news. He would have thought that their firewall would have been nearly impossible to breach by anything other than the most dedicated computer experts. If this was such a blatant security breach, he was going to have to leave Nagi more time to work on the computer system that he'd devoted so much effort into setting up.

 

“Who sent it?” he asked, motioning for Nagi to join him on the couch as he pulled his laptop out of his briefcase.

 

“We can't tell. There's some sort of encryption and every time we try to open it, our systems crash. It isn't causing any serious damage, but we can't read it. The one thing that we have been able to make out is that it is meant only for you to read.” Her frustration was clearly evident in her voice. “We tried to trace its origins and it keeps bouncing us around.”

 

“Forget trying then,” he instructed. “Whoever sent it obviously doesn't want anyone but me to read it. I'll have Nagi check it out. Forward it to me and I'll have him take a look at it.”

 

He ended the call and a few seconds later, his computer beeped when the email in question arrived. Mamoru handed the computer over to Nagi and explained why Rex had called. “Whoever sent this was able to get past all of our security layers,” he explained, not at all happy with the situation. Kritiker had invested an enormous amount of money and man hours into securing their system against hacking. It was frustrating to have someone show just how easily their system could be circumvented.

 

Nagi frowned. An expert hacker in his own right, Mamoru had placed him in charge of setting up Kritiker's new security net. Having worked for Esset most of his life, he knew many of the computer experts who actively worked against Kritiker and had designed their system to prevent this very type of incursion. He ran a few checks to trace the message, not surprised to see that the message had been bounced through multiple servers and networks before reaching its intended target.

 

“Whoever sent this knew what they were doing. Tracing it just is not going to be possible without opening it first,” Nagi stated. “Do you want me to try?”

 

Mamoru nodded. “Whoever sent this went through a lot of trouble to make sure I saw it. I want to know what they thought was so important that they would get past our security.”

 

“I'll have to disable some of your security on the computer; otherwise the system is just going to shut it down as a virus,” Nagi warned. “There's probably some recognition programming attached, to make sure that you are the one reading it.” The telekinetic smiled to himself, having to admire such skillful programming and having a new challenge to work on. “Whoever did this was good.”

 

“You'll have time to admire their handiwork later on,” Mamoru teased gently, knowing that his friend would certainly enjoy picking over the email to see exactly how it worked. “Let's see what it says.”

 

Nagi carefully turned off the laptop's security protections, but cut the remote connection to the rest of Kritiker's systems, making sure that there was no chance on the rest of the network becoming compromised. Having taken what precautions he could, he clicked on the email and watched as the computer whirred as whatever recognition requirements that the message made was met. The message opened, revealing a file attachment and a simple message.

 

You might be interested in this.

 

Mamoru frowned sharply, not overly surprised that there was no “signature” or originating e-mail address apparent. “Any way to trace this?” he asked, leaning over Nagi's shoulder to watch.

 

His friend shrugged. “Maybe. It's going to take awhile, and I'd have to track it back to its original server to find the sender. Should I open the attachment?”

 

Mamoru nodded, curious in spite of himself.

 

It turned out to be a police report from New York City in America. Both young men had studied English enough to read it proficiently; the scanned documents reported an assault on an unidentified man. Mamoru wondered why someone went through so much trouble to send this to him as he read the report, not seeing any apparent reason why this should be of interest to him.

 

It seemed straightforward enough. The victim, found alone early one morning three days previously according to the dates on the report. He had been stabbed once in the stomach. He had no identification with him, but the police had found his wallet with a significant amount of cash still in his possession so robbery was not suspected to be the motive. The man had been transported to a hospital emergency room where he arrived alive. According to the most recent entry on the report, the victim remained unidentified and the police had no motive or suspects for the assault.

 

None of this made any sense to Mamoru. Certainly, it was unfortunate to read about an injured person who apparently had no one to look out of him, but New York was a bit out of his sphere of influence. “Why would somebody send this to me?” he wondered aloud. “It's not exactly something that would concern us.”

 

Nagi apparently saw something that he had not caught on to and started slightly. “Mamoru, look at this,” he urged, scrolling down to the section in question. “The victim appears to be an Asian man, in his mid to late twenties with brown dyed hair and violet colored eyes.”

 

He looked gravely at his friend and employer, watching the realization coming into his eyes. “How many Asian men with violet eyes do we know?”

 

Mamoru didn't answer immediately, his eyes focused on the report. It seemed authentic, and he doubted that whoever sent it would have fabricated such an elaborate hoax just to get him worked up. He hoped that he was wrong, but his gut warned him that Aya was the subject of the report. It would be far too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.

 

“Nagi, is there any way we can find out if it's Aya that they're talking about? Last I knew he was in England. Can we find out if he went to New York?” he asked, his mind racing. What the hell could have drawn Aya to New York? And if that was actually him, who had tried to kill him? That this was a planned assassination attempt was of no doubt to Mamoru.

 

Nagi took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. “I'll check the airlines, but if he wasn't traveling under one of his known aliases, I won't find out anything that way. Let me try to see if there are any updates on the police database.”

 

He held his hand over the keyboard, using his powers to type far more rapidly that he could with his fingers and began to look for the back doors into the system. Given how much added security American law enforcement agencies had added to their system because of terrorism fears, he knew this was going to take a little while.

 

He glanced up to see Mamoru starting at him intently. “Mamoru, I'm not going to get this done any faster with you staring over my shoulder. Go… take a bath and give me a few minutes to see what I can find out.” He turned back to his work, intent on finding the answers that his friend needed as quickly as possible.

 

Mamoru frown, a little stung at the dismissal. Despite his desire to stay and wait for any news, he knew that he'd be more of a distraction than anything else. He'd best leave Nagi to his work and just try to keep out of his way. Retreating to the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of tea, he rang Rex to give her an update.

 

“You don't have to worry, the contents of the email were pretty harmless,” he informed her. “Nagi thinks that it was more a prank than anything else. Someone testing our system to see if they could get through it.”

 

He didn't like lying to Rex, but until he knew what was going on, it was better to keep his suspicions to himself. As much as he depended on Rex and even trusted her, she was still loyal to Kritiker first. Best not to give her all the details until he had all of the facts.

 

He heard her audibly sigh in relief. “That's good news, but what are we going to do about the security issues?” she asked.

 

“I'm going to have Nagi work on it, but as of now I want everyone to be on the look out for any unauthorized access to our system. Keep watch for any evidence of hacking and shut it down immediately. Nagi isn't our only computer expert and I've got him working on this specific email trying to trace its origins. I want you to have our best people start working on shoring up the security systems.”

 

“I'll get started on it.”

 

“Good. Let's not panic over this. It's a problem, but that we will be able to resolve relatively quickly. Just tell everyone to be careful until we get this issue locked down.” He hung up, already thinking ahead to what he would need to do.

 

If that was Aya in New York, then he had a greater problem to deal with. He knew that the number of parties that wanted to see Aya dead were considerable. His friend had certainly built up a respectable number of enemies over the years, but few that would have the wherewithal to track him around the world and actually get close enough to injure him. That list was a short one, and he knew full well that Kritiker would be at the top of that list.

 

He sipped at his tea, stripping off his jacket and tie and trying to relax. He could not help from worrying, hoping that they were jumping to the wrong conclusions that it wasn't Aya in New York. He wanted to believe that his friend was safe and more importantly, that Kritiker hadn't changed its mind about him. Unfortunately, the lump of ice in his gut was insisting that their first assessment was the correct one.

 

Mamoru leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering just what he could and should do. He had too many responsibilities now, too many considerations that had to be weighed and balanced. Yet could he turn a blind eye to this? Could he look away if Aya was indeed targeted for assassination?

 

Groaning in frustration, he knew that no matter what he did, the careful balance he had maintained since becoming Persia would be ruined. He would either become the leader that he had dreaded becoming, or risk everything for the sake of one man.

 

He returned to the living room where Nagi was still leaning over the computer, running several searches. The telekinetic looked up, clearly frustrated at not having the answers that his friend needed. “I don't have anything conclusive,” he admitted. “It looks like Aya bought tickets on several flights to the United States and could have taken any one or none of them. He used a clean passport so I can't follow that, at least not right now. But he was definitely in New York until at least four days ago. A mobster involved in a child pornography ring was found murdered and right after that Aya dropped out of sight again. There's no evidence that he left New York, so I hacked into the hospital computers. The man they brought in is still alive so the only way that we're going to know for certain that is Aya is to send someone there.”

 

Mamoru ran his hand through his hair in frustration, but he knew that Nagi had done his best with almost nothing to go on. But who could he send to New York? Ken was still locked away in his self-imposed imprisonment and to order any other Kritiker agent would arouse suspicions as to why he was involving himself in the matter. If Kritiker was involved, it was a risk that he could not take. He could ask Nagi to go, but there would be questions about his absence. After so many months of being all but glued to Mamoru's side, Nagi could not just vanish without bringing up a lot of uncomfortable questions.

 

Nagi had clearly considered these issues and already had an answer. “I have you booked on a flight to New York that leaves few hours and gotten out your emergency documents. As far as Kritiker knows, you've taken a few days to visit the family estate in Kyoto while your grandfather is away. We'd better hurry to get you to the airport.”

 

“Nagi, I…” Mamoru started, only to be cut off by his friend.

 

“We don't have time to debate this,” Nagi insisted. “We're not exactly overwhelmed with options and it's a logical reason for you to be away for a couple of days. I can keep things quiet on this end while you find out what is going on.”

 

Mamoru was quickly given a telekinetic shove to his bedroom where his closet door was flung open and an overnight bag flew into his arms. Together they packed a change of clothing and his toiletry bag. Nagi zipped up the bag and placed it down on the bed before turning to take his friend into his arms.

 

Mamoru leaned into the embrace, needing the comfort of the other man's arms around him. Thing were moving so quickly and he felt as if he was losing all control over the situation. That was if he ever really had control at all.

 

Nagi pressed a gentle kiss against his lips, his strong hands holding him. Mamoru held the other man tightly, not wanting to let go. Nagi was the last constant in his life, the one thing he could count on. There was so little he could trust in his world, with Kritiker always leaning over his shoulder like a jealous mistress. Not for the first time, he wondered just how much more he could have to give up and if it was all worth it.

 

Nagi drew back, looking into his friend's and lover's eyes. “Never forget who you really are. You can call yourself Takatori Mamoru all you wish, but we both know who you really are inside. You can do this because you are Tsukiyono Omi.”

 

It had been so long since anyone had called him that, referred to him as anything other that the leader of Kritiker. Everyone around him had been pushing him into that role and finally, the one closest to him had managed with a gentle kiss to undo their manipulations. It quickly became clear what he needed to do.

 

The next few hours went in a blur with a hurried drive to Narita Airport. Nagi had worked a minor miracle with his skilled hacking and bumped some businessman from his first class seat. Nagi handed him his travel documentation and a passport with his new alias.

 

“You're all set,” Nagi promised, following him as far as the security gate. “I've contacted the surgeon at the hospital and told him that you would be arriving. They'll be expecting you. I booked you a room at the Embassy Hotel. It's not too far from the hospital. Just… be careful. I have a bad feeling about all this.”

 

“I'll be all right,” Mamoru promised, gently squeezing his lover's hand. He wished that he could kiss Nagi, express the feelings that always remained unspoken between them. “You don't think Esset had something to do with this?”

 

“I don't know,” Nagi answered honestly. “The last I heard from the others, Esset has been in chaos but that doesn't mean we can underestimate the treat that they still pose.”

Mention of Nagi's former teammates aroused another suspicion. “Could the others have been involved?”

 

Nagi shrugged. “They've been independent for a long time and don't have a reason to do something like this. But Mamoru… you know how powerful they are and Schuldig for one lives to cause havoc. I was thinking that he is very likely the one behind that email and he's gone after you before. Targeting Aya might just be a ruse to draw you out and I'm not going to be there to protect you.” The young man's head lowered, his long bangs hiding his eyes.

 

Mamoru forced himself to smile, gently drawing Nagi's head up so he could look into his lover's eyes. “I can handle myself. I might have spent the past few months behind a desk, but I haven't forgotten everything I learned. I can handle things.”

 

Nagi nodded, not happy with having to stay behind but knowing that he had to trust Mamoru in this. “You'd better get going if you're going to make your plane,” he warned. That was as much of a goodbye as he could permit himself to make in a public setting. He gave Mamoru's hand another squeeze before turning to walk away.

 

Mamoru shifted the weight of his bag's strap on his shoulder, steeling himself for what was facing him. As badly as he hoped that the unnamed wounded man was not Aya, he was very much looking forward to seeing his old friend again. Even if just to yell at him for being so careless.

 

* * * * *

 

Mamoru tapped his fingers anxiously on the arm of his seat, wishing that he could will the plane to land faster. It had been a relatively uneventful flight. He had tried to sleep a little bit, but his restless mind refused to lt him relax. Besides, he had never been good about sleeping on planes. At least hours in the air had given him time to think and review the documents again. It had only served to convince him all the more that the injured man was indeed Aya. While he could not be absolutely certain until he arrived at the hospital, the coincidences just too pat to be ignored. The date of the reported attack matched with the day that Aya's whereabouts could not be traced.

 

He was pleased to see that along with the new passport and identification for his own alias that Nagi had thought to make up documentation for Aya. He didn't know if it would do any good, but he was reluctant to advertise Aya's true identity if it could be avoided. Providing the hospital with a clean alias for Aya might buy them a little bit of time.

 

His friend had masterfully arranged for his arrival in New York. Mamoru would never know how Nagi had managed it, but he was all but whisked through customs with barely a glance from the agent at his papers. A limo had been waiting at Kennedy Airport to drive him directly to this hospital.

 

An escort had been waiting for his arrival and brought him up to the Critical Care Unit where he was met by the chief surgeon. The doctor seemed momentarily surprised by the relative youth of the VIP he was meeting, but quickly realized that this was no child that he was greeting. “Mr. Takahashi, I'm Dr. Redding. Your assistant called me yesterday to advise me of your arrival. He said that you might know who our mystery patient is.”

 

“Thank you for meeting me,” Mamoru said, projecting a calm authority that belied his years. “When we heard about your patient, I became concerned that it might be my friend. He's been traveling and I haven't heard from him in quite some time so we started checking hospitals to see if something might have happened to him. Has his condition changed at all?” he asked as they walked towards the patient rooms.

 

“Marginally. He's still in extremely critical condition, but we're getting him stabilized,” the surgeon assured him. “Aside from massive blood loss, the knife cut into his bowel. Fortunately, it was a fairly simple repair to make, but some bowel material did leak into his abdominal cavity. Right now, his worst complication is a colossal case of peritonitis, so we've got him on some very powerful antibiotics. The infection is starting to come under control, but he's still extremely weak and he hasn't regained consciousness.” He opened the door to the private room.

 

Mamoru looked down at the thin figure in the bed, hooked up to numerous monitors and IV tubes running in and out of his body. Despite the months that had passed since they last saw one another, there was no mistaking the patient's identity. Aya's natural hair coloring was starting to show where it was growing out, the deep crimson glowing against the more muted brown that he been dyeing it as of late.

 

Mamoru nodded at the doctor's unspoken question. “Yes, this is my friend. Ren Nakamura. Can you tell me what happened to him?”

 

Dr Redding nodded. “I can only let you know what the ambulance crew reported. A call was made at about 10:45 that morning to report a stabbing victim. The exact address was given, and it looked as if someone was trying to administer first aid before the paramedics arrived, but he was found alone. Given the severity of his wound and the amount of blood he'd lost, he could have easily have bled out by the time an ambulance crew got to him, so he was extremely fortunate that someone called for help as quickly as they did. But even so, he crashed twice in the ambulance and once during surgery. His vital signs are starting to stabilize now, so I think we may be past the worst of it.”

 

Mamoru nodded, glad for that bit of good news. After losing Yohji they way they did, it would have been a devastating blow to have lost Aya as well. “Were the police able to determine what happened?” he asked.

 

Dr. Redding shook his head. “I'm afraid I don't know. You'd have to contact the case officer who came in with him. I have his number in your friend's chart. There's also the report of the ambulance crew, but I'm afraid they're not going to be able to tell you much. Your friend was alone when they got to him. He had no identification on him at the time when he was found. The police theorized that his identification had been taken when he was assaulted, and we had no clue as to his identity until we were contacted by your representative.”

 

Strange, Mamoru thought. He might never had learned what became of Aya had it not been for that e-mail, but it troubled him that he still did not know who was behind all this. He would have thought that if Nagi's suspicions bore out and Schwartz had been involved, Schuldig would be around somewhere. Well, there were more important things to worry about right then.

 

“Thank you very much, Doctor. I appreciate everything you've done for Ren.” What he wanted now was to get Aya to safety as quickly as possible. He did not want to chance his assailants finding out that he had survived the attack, if they did not already know. “When will he be stable enough to be moved? I'd like to see if we can get him back to Tokyo if at all possible.”

 

“I'm afraid that Mr. Nakamura will not be able to be moved for some time. He's still extremely critical and very weak. Once he's stable and regains consciousness, we can see how he progresses and then consider using a medical jet to transport him. Right now, though, that is just not an option. Given that he went into cardiac arrest multiple times, it would be too dangerous to think about moving him until he regains his strength.”

 

Mamoru nodded again, disappointed. He would have to arrange for additional security around Aya until he was strong enough to be moved. At least until they knew who had targeted Aya. This complicated matters greatly.

 

Thanking the doctor again, he went to find the nearest payphone. Using the secure number that would bounce the call through several satellites so that it could not be traced, he reached his lover.

 

“Hai?” Nagi's voice echoed hollowly, the telekinetic his usual taciturn self.

 

“It's me,” Mamoru identified rather needlessly. He would be the only one calling Nagi. “You were right; it was Aya. He's alive, and I think we're going to need to get some protection for him until he's able to be moved.”

 

“When will that be?” Nagi asked. “We're stretched pretty thin.”

 

Mamoru rubbed at his eyes, tired from the flight and knowing that he wasn't thinking too clearly. He knew that Nagi was correct. He thought about calling in the Crashers, who would undoubtedly be delighted to learn that their friend was alive. Unfortunately, they were currently occupied with several assignments that as much as he hated to admit it, took priority over a single man's life. As badly as he wanted to, he couldn't pull them to New York for bodyguard duty.

 

Looking up, he spotted a familiar face. Probably the last person he had wanted to see, but suddenly it all made sense on how the ambulance was able to reach Aya before he bled to death. “I'll call you back in a bit. I need to follow up on a lead down here.”

 

“Be careful Mamoru,” Nagi warned, a hint of real affection in his voice. Mamoru bit back a smile and hung up. Turning to the tall figure lounging by the nurse's station, he straightened his jacket moved to confront the older man.

 

The German telepath turned a grin to Mamoru, his handsome face brightening at the younger man's approach. “Ah, good morning kind,” he greeted. He noticed Mamoru's glance at the nurses who seemed to be completely unaware of their presence. “Oh, don't worry about them. A little suggestion planted and they won't even notice that we were ever here. Thought you might want to talk.”

 

TBC