Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Convergence ❯ Convergence 2 ( Chapter 3 )

Convergence

Part 2

 

Schuldig whistled to himself as he strolled through the hospital hallways. A young nurse glanced up at him to ask him to be quiet, but was herself immediately ordered silent by the handsome man. Schuldig trailed an idle thought through her consciousness about the night of passion she had recently spent with a married doctor and just what might happen to her job if it became public knowledge. That certainly shut her up and gave her more to worry about than a man whose face she already could not remember.

 

Hospitals were hell on a telepath, he considered as he raised his mental shields to block out all the stray thoughts floating around. Such strong feelings in a place like this, so much pain and anguish as patients suffered and died, or even were brought into the world. That caterwauling woman down in maternity in her twentieth hour of labor was certainly enough to cause him a migraine, though the way she was cursing at her attentive husband was amusing.

 

He knew exactly where he needed to go to. The Critical Care Unit was easy to find, taking up the majority of an upper floor. Here he had to focus on keeping his shields up, blocking out the waves of pain that could easily knock him flat. Schuldig knew that he had to be careful, or he'd end up in a hospital bed right next to them.

 

No, he had work to do. Crawford, damned slave-driver that he was, was once again sending him out to play messenger boy. Of course, they were a little short handed, what with Nagi working with Kritiker in Japan for the time being and Farfarello in semi-retirement. Their esteemed leader was too busy mapping out the grand game they were all playing to be bothered with something as trivial as fieldwork right now. Bloody bastard.

 

If he didn't have such a personal stake in all this, he would have liked to just reach out and fry the brain of the man he was looking for. Unfortunately, Fearless Leader insisted that they were going to need the little prick in the future so causing a cerebral hemorrhage so severe that his brains leaked out of his ears would be a bad thing. But the instant that assessment changed…

 

It didn't take him long to find his objective. There he was, the new head of Kritiker Japan, chatting away on a pay phone after witnessing the results of his bungling. Tamping down the impulse to commit murder right there, he took a second to regain his composure, fixed a smile onto his face and sent the mental equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. He saw the young Takatori's head look up in his direction, eyes narrowing at the sight of him. Ah, just the reaction he was looking for. He waved his fingers at the young man, making it obvious that the meeting was not accidental.

 

Mamoru hung up on his call and after giving his jacket a quick tug, strode over to confront his old foe. Schuldig grinned brightly, not missing at how exhausted the younger man obviously was. “Ah, good morning kind,” he greeted cheerfully, happy to needle a man who clearly hadn't slept in too long.

 

At Mamoru's glance at the nurses behind them who seemed to be completely ignoring their presence, Schuldig chuckled. “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.”

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Schuldig?” Mamoru demanded. “Did you do that?” He gestured in the general directly of Aya's room.

 

Schuldig shook his head. “No, that would be more of Farfie's style. Remember, he's the one with the thing for knives.” At the glare from the younger man, he could see that Takatori was in no mood for teasing.

 

“We had nothing to do with that except making sure that he got to the hospital in one piece, so get your panties out of a bunch.” Schuldig cocked his head, the smile on his face far too innocent for a man of his nature. “Aren't you going to thank me for doing that? I mean, it would have been easier to have just left him alone bleeding on a street corner.”

 

Ah, finally a flinch as his dig struck home. Such an easy target, as the kid was all but projecting his guilt at his inability to keep his old teammate protected. “You never do anything without having your own purposes in mind,” Mamoru shot back, trying to hide his discomfort. “Why would you try to help Aya? You've wanted him dead long enough.”

 

Schuldig chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “No, not dead. If I did, then he would have died the same day that his parents did. He never told you that I left him alive that day, did he?” He nearly laughed openly at the stunned stupid expression on Mamoru's face, pleased to have taken him by surprise again. “Oh, I'll admit that we worked at cross purposes on occasion, but I never wanted him dead.”

 

“So why help him now?” Mamoru demanded, obviously struggling to keep his patience.

 

Schuldig knew that he could play this kid like a fiddle. It wasn't as if Takatori didn't know from painful personal experience that the telepath excelled in talking in circles and that he always acted for his own benefit or amusement. If he wanted a clear answer, he would have to press the issue directly, and then try to decide if he could trust the answers he was given.

 

Schuldig nearly laughed aloud at the younger man's forcefulness. Though Mamoru had grown up considerably in the past few years and showed more than a little of his family's hereditary ruthlessness, he still reminded Schuldig of a kitten trying to be a tiger. It would be a few years more before he gained the aura that had made the Takatori name so feared in politics. Still, it wouldn't hurt to give him what he was asking for, not when he was clearly trying so hard.

 

“Because he's needed alive,” he finally answered. “His death would do no good and likely a great deal of harm.” He looked down at Mamoru, smiling slightly. “You made quite a mess of things, kind. Now the grownups have to clean up.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“That little job you wasted Weiß on…” The telepath shook his head ruefully. “You sent them into a situation that they could not handle and destroyed a perfectly good resource. Look at them…. Hidaka's put himself in prison to avoid a one-way trip to the looney bin, Kudoh chose to have his mind wiped and Aya… well, we all know what happened to Aya. A pretty big price to pay so you could move up the political ladder.”

 

Schuldig stared down at the younger man, the disgust clearly evident on his handsome face. “If that's how you treat the ones who you look upon as family, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies. Who do you plan do sacrifice next? Nagi?”

 

The younger man seemed genuinely surprised at the anger in Schuldig's voice. It had to be a rather disconcerting experience to be dressed down by a member of Schwartz, and to agree with him. Schuldig was not actively trying to read Mamoru, but it was plainly clear that while had never been happy about the choices he had made, he didn't see himself as having had other options. How amusing… he genuinely thought that by taking over the reins of Persia, he would be able to give his friends their lives back.

 

And how well did that turn out? Schuldig's telepathic voice dug cruelly into Mamoru's brain, not allow him to escape the accusation. The telepath shot into his mind a flurry of images that tore at the younger man's already battered conscience. Yohji sitting in an empty room holding Aya's katana, wondering at how the weapon had come into his possession and why the sight of it caused him so much pain. Ken wavering between lucidity and insanity, slowing becoming as tainted as the criminals he was sent to slaughter. Aya, somehow managing to retain both his professionalism and his humanity, left to bleed to death on a foreign city street. All because of him.

“I'm not going to stand here and argue with you,” Mamoru shot back, struggling to regain his composure. “Right now, I have to see to Aya's safety. I suppose you know who was behind this?”

 

The telepath shrugged. “No clue. Crawford's vision was just of him being knifed and left to die. Not who was ultimately behind it.”

 

Mamoru sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. His frustration seemed to grow by leaps, Schuldig noted idly. He could all but “hear” the racing thoughts in the younger man's head. The attack on Aya could have come from any number of places, even from within Kritiker. In fact, that would be the first place Schuldig himself would look had he been in Takatori's shoes. There were many rivals who would be happy to see him fail, too caught up in their own ambition and convinced that Takatori was simply too young and inexperienced despite his years of fieldwork to run a national organization. Going after his old friends would be an easy way to hurt him, knock him off balance and throw the leadership position into play. Obviously he had not been as effective in protecting them as he had hoped.

 

Schuldig nodded approvingly, as he would for a slow child who had finally learned his lessons. “Now you're getting it,” he said. “You may be in charge of Kritiker in name, but you're hardly running the show yet. And unless you start using that oh so brilliant mind of yours, you're going to lose what control you do have.”

 

“Is that why you're here? To warn me about this?” Mamoru demanded.

 

“I really don't give a damn about your little power struggles. I'm here to make sure you don't do something stupid and leave Fujimiya vulnerable. Assign anyone from Kritiker to guard him and you'll be planning his funeral before morning,” he warned.

 

The frustration seemed to pour off the younger man in waves. Schuldig knew that Takatori didn't have a whole lot of options open to him, now that he understood how high the stakes were. He might try to hire some freelance help, but that was no real solution. That would present another set of complications, such as uncomfortable questions as to why he was going outside Kritiker in this matter and no guarantees that they could not be bought out from under him. He needed someone who he could trust and right then, he could not see any solutions.

 

Schuldig sighed in frustration, knowing that Mamoru was missing the answer that was right under his nose. He hated having to lead children by the hand. “You need to get the rest of Weiß back on line,” he said bluntly, not in the mood to beat around the bush. “Hidaka should be about finished with his vacation and ready to come back. And you'll need to wake Kudoh out of his self-imposed coma. Imagine, wasting him as an office drone.” The German shook his head in genuine disgust.

 

Schuldig watched the lines of frustration on Mamoru's face fade slightly as his words sunk in. The younger man had to see that Schuldig was correct in his assessment. The only protection that he could really trust were his old teammates… but that posed another question. It would be easy for Mamoru to get Hidaka to New York. Schuldig knew that the least stable member of Weiß could discharge himself from the correctional facility whenever he wished to leave. He could be brought in within a few days.

 

Unfortunately for Mamoru, he made the situation with Kudoh far more difficult in his efforts to help the man erase his past. As if that were ever really possible. Kudoh's memories were not gone, just oh so deeply buried. All it took was the right tug on the right mental strings and the whole house of cards would fall down. This might be one time that Mamoru was glad that Schuldig had played with all of their minds at some time or another.

 

Schuldig smiled, deciding to throw the kid a bone. “Leave the brain-dead one to me. I can wake him however quickly you can get his skinny ass onto a plane.” His smiled turned cruel as he revealed to the younger man yet another of his failures. “You really should have had a telepath take a look at him before shuffling him off to life in the suburbs. I know that you were unhappy with his performance those last months, but even you are not dumb enough to throw away a perfectly good assassin just because he's a little shaky in the brainpan.”

 

Another wince from the kid as the accusation struck home. “You can bring back Yohji's memories?” he asked, clearly wavering between hope and anger. “I had the finest neurologists examine him and they said that there was no chance of his memories returning.”

 

Schuldig yawned dramatically, not letting on at how much he was enjoying watching Takatori lose what control he had. It was easy to pick up on the ricocheting emotions charging through the kid. Anger, hurt, grief, self-hate… Pity that the boy was needed or he would have been ever so happy to put the little shit out of his misery. Besides… Nagi really did seem fond of him.

 

“Your doctors had never run into someone who had his mind completely fucked over by an Esset agent, have they? And you just compounded the problem by sending the schwachkopf off and letting him hide from his past. And telling Fujimiya that he was dead… that was pretty cold blooded, even for you.”

 

Schuldig leaned close to Mamoru, using the younger man's exhaustion to take full advantage of the confrontation. “You really thought that you had his best interest at heart, don't you. Well, let me break it to you…” he hissed, glaring into Takatori's eyes. “You've been wondering why he left Japan, ja? Aya knew that Yohji was still alive. He knows that you lied to him. He knows what a manipulative little bastard you've become.

 

“And what made you think that Kudoh was going to be any happier with his mind wiped? You decided to play God, kind, and look at the results. One `friend' nearly killed, one locked away for his own sanity and one trapped in a life that he knows isn't right for him and has no idea why. Let me tell you, Esset could have used a little tyrant like you.”

 

He heard Mamoru's breath catch as the full consequences of his actions finally struck home. Normally he could enjoy tormenting the boy with the knowledge, but now he had to set things into action. No time to let young Takatori stew over what he had done. Not yet, at least. “Well, now you get to fix that little mess you made. I'll wake Kudoh, but you're going to be the one who will have to explain all this to him. I have a feeling that he's not going to be very happy with you.”

 

Mamoru did not answer immediately, seemingly deep in shock over just what Schuldig had revealed to him. The telepath smiled grimly, leaning back against the nurse's desk and giving him a small bit of space. The guilt was pouring off the kid in waves, so he knew that his goads had the desired effect. Takatori would do as he was told, at least for now.

 

It was several minutes before Mamoru was able to nod, knowing that Schuldig was right. He needed Weiß back. There was no other options open to him.

 

That still left a major problem to resolve; how to protect Aya in the meantime. Schuldig could see the younger man's mind racing as he weighed out ideas and rejected them just as quickly. He could stay himself until Yohji and Ken got to New York, but the longer he was out of Japan, the more suspicion it raised. Kritiker had agents in New York, but if the organization had been behind the attempt on Aya's life, he could not risk letting them know that Aya had survived the attack.

 

Schuldig seemed amused by Mamoru's dilemma and his apparent inability to find a solution. The answer was right in front of his nose, but the kind didn't seem to realize it. The telepath finally lost his patience and mentally nudged Mamoru in the right direction.

 

“You?” Mamoru exclaimed disbelievingly at the ridiculous idea. But how ridiculous was it, really? Schuldig had saved Aya and seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. And Mamoru wasn't exactly swimming in available options for the time being. It was the logical solution.

 

The German nodded, giving a little bored yawn. “I don't have anything to do for the next couple of days. I don't mind babysitting the Kätzchen until everything is set up.”

 

“What about Yohji? I thought you would get him back.”

 

Schuldig grinned. “You think I need to be in Japan for that? I've been inside all of your heads at one time or another. I can find him wherever he is. You may want to be there though when he comes to, because he is not going to be happy.”

 

Understatement of the century, Mamoru thought, not even attempting to mask the thought. He felt more than enough guilt when it came to his friends and he had hoped that at least Yohji would be able to walk away relatively intact. The amnesia had been almost a blessing when he saw that his friend had absolutely no memory of his life before waking up in that hospital room. Except for Aya, he knew better than anyone just how bad off Yohji had been on that last mission. Mamoru had seriously considered putting him on suicide watch, and would have if Aya hadn't been keeping such a careful eye on his ex-lover during that mission.

 

He had watched over his friend since he'd left the hospital and knew that Yohji had been more or less happy. Well, happier than he'd been while with Weiß those last months, and at least settled in his new life. He had married his nurse, had a job and seemed relatively content even if the lost memories plagued him. Mamoru had hoped that, given time, Yohji would fully accept his new identity and life as Itou Ryo. It seemed nothing less than cruel to reawaken the pain that had driven him nearly insane.

 

Yet that was exactly what he was agreeing to. Mamoru finally nodded, knowing that he really had no choice. He turned to leave, then stopped himself. Still facing away from the Schudlig, he said softly, “You know that Yohji's married, right? Bringing back his memories will destroy that.”

 

Schuldig did not miss the regret in Mamoru's voice and sighed, nearly feeling sorry for the little bastard. You didn't live the kind of life that they did and not harbor a few of those. “It's a marriage built on a tissue of lies, kind. And sooner or later, whether I wake him or not, his memories will come back. What do you think his reaction will be if he learns a few years down the road that you let his lover die and kept him unaware the whole time? Think that will be a mercy for him?”

 

Mamoru didn't answer immediately, but knew the answer as well as Schuldig did. Some things just weren't meant to be forgotten, and his attempts to manipulate circumstances to help his friends had ended in nothing but abject failure. He wasn't as skilled a manipulative bastard as his grandfather was. Not yet, at least.

 

“Just make sure that Aya's in one piece when he gets here,” he ordered the telepath, more than a hint of warning in his voice.

 

Schuldig nodded. As if he would let anything happen. “He'll be fine. Promise.”

 

That was as much reassurance as he was likely to get. Schuldig had done his job and set the game into play. Takatori knew what he needed to do, but seemed reluctant to leave. Sighing in exasperation the telepath reached out and mussed the younger man's thick hair, getting a fierce glare for his trouble.

 

“Come on now,” Schuldig urged. “No time for dawdling. Go back to your hotel and call Nagi. He's worried about you.” Ohhh… another angry glare. The kid had more Takatori in him than Schuldig had given him credit for.

 

“You need to get some rest so that you're not giving me headaches, then work on getting Hidaka out of jail. Once you get the brain dead one, you can worry about bringing Kritiker to heel.”

 

Obviously Mamoru didn't like taking order from an enemy, but he was too tired and too short of options to argue. And as much as Schuldig wanted to kill him for what he'd done to his own team, he knew that they were much better off with young Takatori running the show. Schuldig was no clairvoyant, but he had the nasty feeling that things were going to get very ugly in the not too distant future.

 

He watched the younger man walk away, not missing the tired, dejected posture of his body. Poor kind, so out of his league here. He really wasn't all that good this yet. If he was more like his grandfather, he would just have written off the Weiß team as damaged goods and gone on from there. Hell, the old man would never have let them live past their usefulness in the first place. This one had no idea of what he was really up against, both inside and outside of Kritiker.

 

It was pretty much common knowledge even to those outside of Kritiker that the members of the Weiß team had been selected to be expendable. Well, all of them except for the kind. Once they were no longer of any use, Kritiker seemed to be genuinely at a loss at what to do with a group of highly trained assassins that they no longer could control, and a deeply damaged group of assassins at that. It was clear that aside from Takatori Mamoru, there were at least some elements within Kritiker that had decided that eliminating the troubling elements would be the easiest and safest option. Takatori would have his hands full in the coming weeks, both keeping his old comrades alive and rooting out his rivals for power. He hoped that the kid had it within him to deal with the upcoming battle.

 

Ah well, he had his own responsibilities to take care of for the time being. He made his way back to Aya's hospital room, casually planting in the chief nurse's head an order that the comatose patient was permitted to have his visitor with him round the clock. That should keep anything from bothering him for awhile.

 

There was a chair next to Aya's bed. Schuldig had to wonder if it was standard practice to make hospital chairs so hard and uncomfortable so that visitors weren't inclined to stick around for long. That was hardly conducive to a patient's well-being, he mused. Patients need to have their loved ones with them, to help them recover.

 

Not that he could qualify as a loved one. Not at least as Aya was concerned. Schuldig looked down at his charge and muttered, “Well, it's just you and me. Hope you don't mind, Kätzchen.” Not that he expected an answer, but he was almost disappointed when Aya didn't respond.

 

The German gently reached out with his mind, trying to see how deeply unconscious Aya was. Superficially the man was out like a light, unresponsive to all stimuli. Underneath, however, was entirely a different story. Like an ocean beneath a cap of arctic ice, the assassin's mind swirled and raged.

 

Schuldig hesitated, knowing that he should leave well enough alone. Aya would certainly not welcome the mental intrusion and in the end, what would it gain him? Crawford had warned that a few days Aya's lover would be back at his side, and there was nothing that he could do to prevent it. Indeed, the clairvoyant had made it abundantly clear that trying to prevent it from happening would result in all of their deaths.

 

He knew that he should just let it go. Kudoh was the one who held Aya's heart. To the unconscious man, Schuldig was just another enemy. What Schuldig wanted, what he's always wanted where Aya was concerned was far beyond what the other redhead was willing to give him.

 

Ja, ja… he knew that he was responsible for that better than anyone else. From the instant that he became a part of Aya's life, his presence had brought little but pain to the swordsman. He certainly hadn't planned on leaving the young man alive the day that he'll killed the Fujimiya family, let alone fall in love with him. Love… that was a word he never thought would apply to him in any manner. He'd long since believed himself incapable of feeling such things.

 

At first he told himself that his interest in Fujimiya Ran was nothing but healthy lust. The young man had been astonishingly beautiful in his pain as he watched his entire life be swept away. The sorrow in those orchid-colored eyes was so delicious, and his mind tasted like finely aged cognac. To a telepath, each mind that he touched had its own unique flavor and sensation. Fujimiya's mind glowed like a rare jewel in his consciousness. Absolutely addictive; enough to make him go against orders and risk his own life to let the boy live, just so he could savor the taste of that beautiful psyche again.

 

Orders from his masters had prevented him from being near the object of his obsession, keeping him too busy to meddle in the youth's life until his return to Japan several years later. He was nearly delighted to find that Fujimiya had survived and thrived in the interim, taking on his sister's name in his quest for vengeance. They now stood as opponents on the great chessboard that Crawford had planned out.

 

Aya had grown from a beautiful adolescent into a stunning man. Time and suffering had only heightened his beauty, giving him an otherworldly quality that was nothing short of breathtaking. He had been transformed from the son of a wealthy Japanese family to a dark angel of death. The blood on his hands only added to his appeal to Schuldig, amazed that the young man could remain so pure of purpose no matter how sullied he became. Oh, he much preferred Aya to the youth that Ran had been.

 

Of course, Aya remembered him. And not at all fondly. Schuldig figured that short of anything named Takatori, his death was the one that Aya would seek most and for some reason, that deeply saddened him. He had not realized at the time that lust had deepened into something far more troubling and unexpected, and in each encounter Schwartz had with Weiß, he tried to avoid facing Aya in combat. He was torn by the thought that one day he might have to kill the man who so thoroughly had gotten under his skin. Crawford, bastard that he was, seemed only amused by his conflict.

 

Fortunately for him, fate had spared him from having to take the swordsman's life and instead had given him the means to save him once again. He had hoped, briefly, that in saving Aya's life he might have a chance to win the other man's heart. When Crawford had sent him to Aya's side, he had thought that this was his chance.

 

Of course Crawford had to crush that hope when he told Schuldig to wake Kudoh from his amnesiac state. Restore his memories and more likely than not, Kudoh would rush to Aya's side. And where did that leave him? Out in the cold once again, he thought with more than a little bitterness. Fate, he decided, was a cruel whore who delighted in dangling what he wanted most just out of his reach before snatching it away once again.

 

There was the temptation, however slight, to tweak Kudoh's memories just a little and leave his memories of Aya deeply buried until he had a chance to win Aya over for himself. The blond didn't deserve Aya, not after the way he treated his lover during that last mission that tore Weiß apart. He left Aya's side, all but flaunted his infidelity and chose to wipe his past away rather than spend his future with Aya. Kudoh did not deserve a chance to win Aya back.

 

Schuldig bit back a curse, wishing that he could just scramble the blond's brains and be done with it. Glancing down at the unconscious man, he knew that he could never do that to Aya. No matter what had happened between them, Aya still loved the stupid idiot. Even if Kudoh did not deserve to have Aya back, Schuldig did not have the right to make that decision for Aya. He had caused Aya enough pain in life. If he could give the man back just a little happiness, even at his own expense, how could he not do so?

 

Sighing to himself, Schuldig knew what his answer was. When Kudoh arrived in New York, he could only step aside and allow the idiot blond to reclaim his lover. Perhaps if he was lucky, Aya might think a little more kindly of him and no longer see him as an enemy. Maybe even see him as a friend.

 

Sure, when Hell froze over and pigs were judged aerodynamic. After everything that had passed between them, Schuldig would be damned lucky if Aya didn't try to kill him the instant he woke up. At least if Kudoh were there, Schuldig would have someone to hide behind.

 

Oh well, he thought. He had a few days before that became an issue. In the meantime… he had a sleeping kitten to watch over. With Aya unconscious, he could take the small liberties that he never dared do when the man was awake. Schuldig reached out to stroke the younger man's hair, noting that it badly needed washing. “Remind me to pester that nurse to give you a bath, Kätzchen. You're starting to get a little ripe.”

 

Schuldig smiled, getting a faint trace of outrage from the unconscious man, both at being touched and being dirty. “Don't worry,” he assured Aya, reaching out to gently soothe the superficial layers of Aya's mind. “Just here to keep you safe until that idiot boyfriend of yours decides to make an appearance.”

 

The anger that he'd picked up on faded slightly into wary watchfulness. Schuldig chuckled to himself. Aya might be unconscious, but he certainly could make his feelings known if he wanted to. He might have no choice about accepting the protection that the telepath could offer, but he didn't have to be happy about it.

 

“So, since it's just you and me, my schwuler, we might as well make the best of it. Frankly it's kind of nice being able to talk without you trying to stick me with that sword of yours. We need to work on your temper a little… going to make people think you're an ill-mannered Kätzchen. Don't want that, do we?”

 

He grinned at the flash of anger again, clear outrage at the nickname. Stroking Aya's hair again, he let his mind gently brush Aya's to soothe the pain that he knew the younger man had to be feeling. When it registered that the mental touch would not be painful or intrusive, Aya's mind relaxed somewhat, finally allowing itself the rest that it badly needed.

 

** * * *

 

The hotel was decent enough, though the only thing that interested Mamoru at the moment was the bed. Nagi had booked him a room on the concierge floor, and the attendant had made sure that a meal was waiting for him when he arrived. Between the anxiety on the flight and the confrontation at the hospital, eating had fallen completely off of Mamoru's radar. Thankfully, Nagi knew him well enough to watch out for him.

 

After picking tiredly at his food and taking a long shower, Mamoru pulled out his computer, needing to get his plans organized. There was so much to do, and he knew that his time was limited. He was not looking forward to facing his old teammates and dealing with their condemnation, but at least he had a bit of time to work up his courage before having to deal with that.

 

Ken would be easy to bring back to active duty, and Mamoru knew that he would be delighted to help Aya. Ken had been especially hurt when Aya had turned his back on them, but he seemed to understand why Aya felt that he had to leave. Mamoru knew that Ken tried not to blame him for their falling out, and had found it impossible to take side in their dispute.

 

He had more important things to worry about, such as breaking the news to his old friend that Yohji was still alive, and that he had known Yohji was alive the whole time. Mamoru knew his teammates well enough to understand that revealing this would be the final break in trust between them.

 

Well, what's done is done and he'd come much too far to begin second guessing every decision he'd made. At least his old team was still alive. That was more than he could say what would have happened had any of his rivals in Kritiker taken over.

 

The plan formed in his mind with astonishing speed, despite his exhaustion. He'd always done his best thinking under pressure. Nagi would contact Ken and begin the process of getting him released from prison, and Mamoru would take him with him when he confronted Yohji. There was little doubt in his mind that their meeting would be a painful one, but hopefully having Ken there would prevent the situation from deteriorating completely.

 

He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, thinking that a huge soft bed was awaiting him and falling asleep for the next week or so. Just a few last things to take care of before he could rest. Picking up his cell phone, he pressed the number on his speed dial.

 

The phone rang twice on the other end before Nagi picked up. “Mamoru, what happened?” his lover asked.

 

“You were right, Nagi,” Mamoru said flatly, not able to hid his exhaustion any longer. “Schuldig was behind that email.”

 

“I figured as much. He enjoys playing his games at other people's expense. Was he the one who injured Aya?”

 

“No, and he made it clear that he didn't know who did. Apparently Crawford `saw' what was going to happen and sent Schuldig to intervene. He was actually the one to save Aya,” Mamoru informed him. He sat down heavily on the bed, leaning back against the thick pillows.

 

“I've left Schuldig keeping guard over Aya until we can get help over here.”

 

Nagi was silent for a moment, then said carefully, “I think that you can trust Schuldig as far as watching Aya goes. Schu's always had a thing for him. I don't believe he'd let Aya come to harm, not if he could prevent it and it doesn't conflict with orders.”

 

Well, that was as much reassurance as Mamoru knew he would get, but it was enough to make him feel a bit better. “A thing for Aya? That's new.”

 

“Hardly,” Nagi snorted. “As long as I've known Schuldig, Aya's been something of an obsession to him. Even when Schwartz was stationed out of Japan, he'd always complain about how long it was taking us to get back there.”

 

Mamoru mentally filed that bit of information away, wondering if it would be of use to him. While Schwartz had ceased working against Kritiker once they'd broken free of Esset, the other operatives could hardly be trusted. Anything that could render a possible threat impotent was most certainly of interest to him.

 

“So what's the plan?” Nagi asked. “I'm sure you've got something worked out already.”

 

“I need you to contact the warden at the prison and get Ken a message. I'll go there as soon as I get back to Japan, but I need to get his release started. Even though he's there willingly, there's a ton of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Just tell Ken that Aya needs him. I'll fill him in on the details when I get back.”

 

“And…” Nagi prompted, knowing that there had to be more.

 

“Get me the latest surveillance on Yohji. We're going to reactivate him,” Mamoru said flatly.

 

Nagi fell silent again, realizing the full gravity of what his lover was telling him. “Mamoru, are you certain?”

 

“I don't have any choices here, now do I?” Mamoru snapped, his weariness snapping the shred of control he had. “I can't trust anyone else. Finding out who was behind this comes first and the best team to do that is Weiß. I don't have any other options left open to me.”

 

Another pause on the other end of the line as Nagi patiently waited for Mamoru's rant to end. “I know. I'll get things in motion on my end. So far, there's no question regarding your absence. I think we can manage another 48 hours before anyone says anything.”

 

Mamoru nodded to himself, wishing that he could close his eyes and just rest them. They burned so much right now, but he knew that if he did he'd be asleep before his phone hit the floor. “Good. I'll secure things over here after I get a little rest. Then get me on the next flight back to Tokyo.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Mamoru was the one to pause this time, wondering how to ask the question that had plagued him since his meeting at the hospital. “Nagi…”

 

“Yes?”

The head of Kritiker swallowed tightly, feeling his eyes burn as tears began to well. “When did I turn into such a monster?”

 

“What?”

 

He inhaled deeply, trying to tamp down the pain swirling within him. “Everything that I've done turned out so horribly. I hurt the people I cared about most. I was so afraid of turning into my grandfather and did everything I could think of to avoid it, and all that happened is me turning into him when I didn't notice.”

 

“Mamoru, you are not a monster,” Nagi said gently, clearly trying to placate him. “I know that you're under stress right now, but…”

 

“Don't you dare make light of this,” Mamoru snapped, his normal self-control shredding under the stress and fatigue he was feeling.

 

“I'm not,” Nagi assured him. “But I know that you're exhausted and not thinking too clearly at the moment. If I know you at all, you probably didn't sleep a wink on the plane and I doubt that you ate anything. Was Schuldig the one who planted that idea in your head?”

 

Mamoru sighed, shaking his head even thought Nagi could not see him. “No,” he answered. “He just pointed out some very painful truths to me and made sure that I couldn't ignore them.”

 

“And if I know Schuldig, he worded it as badly as he could just to hurt you.”

 

“Maybe, but that doesn't change things, does it?”

 

“Perhaps not,” Nagi acquiesced, a bit reluctantly if Mamoru was judging the tone of his voice correctly. “But you are forgetting something.”

”What?”

 

It might have been his imagination, but he could almost feel his lover's arms around him, squeezing him in a comforting embrace. But he had to be dreaming. Nagi was all the way on the other side of the world at the moment. It was just the fantasy of his exhausted mind. But there was no imagining the gentleness of the telekinetic's words.

 

“Mamoru, don't forget where I came from. I've known real monsters. I've seen what evil a leader can do when they see their agents as nothing more than tools to be used. Do you honestly think that I would work with you, live with you, if I thought that you were anything like that?

 

“You make mistakes. Sometimes terrible ones, but they are never out of the intent to deliberately harm your friends. You were wrong about many things, but I never thought for a second that you wanted to hurt Aya or the others. Schuldig could not be more wrong about you.”

 

Mamoru felt the dampness on his cheeks as the tears he'd been fighting for so long finally escaped. How he wanted to reach out and touch the other man. “I don't deserve you,” he whispered, barely able to hear his own voice, but Nagi managed to hear him.

 

“Maybe not, but I'm here,” the telekinetic assured him. Mamoru felt that reassuring squeeze about his body again, easing the tension that had been tormenting him since he first saw that email.

 

“Now listen to me,” Nagi ordered gently. “After we hang up, I want you to get one of your pills out of your bag. You need some uninterrupted sleep if you're going to be of any use. I'll get word to Ken and start working on his release,” Nagi assured him. “We should have all of the red tape cleared up by the time you get back.”

 

“I'll want another twenty four hours here to make sure that everything is secure before I come home,” Mamoru stated. He wanted to look in on Aya again and make sure that Schuldig was holding up his end of the agreement. “And I want you to monitor Kritiker's operations in America. I need to know if they are showing any signs of moving against Aya.”

 

“Don't worry, I will,” Nagi assured him. “And don't worry about Aya for a little bit. Schuldig will certainly keep Aya safe.”

 

“I know,” Mamoru said softly. He fell silent for a second, staring off into space and picturing his lover, the fall of dark hair nearly obscuring his beautiful eyes. “I love you, Nagi. I'll see you soon.”

 

There was no answer at the other end for a moment at those softly spoken words hung heavily in the air between them. What neither of them had dared to say, or even think of, for so long had finally been said. And would change things between them forever.

 

Mamoru could almost hear the smile in Nagi's voice. “I know. Get some sleep,” he ordered again before hanging up.

 

Mamoru listened for a second at the buzz over his phone at from the broken connection, smiling softly to himself. He had not expected more of a response from his terse lover, though he knew unquestionably that the feelings were mutual. They would talk more later on, figure out how this would affect their relationship, both working and otherwise.

 

Finding his toilet bag, he dug out the bottle of sleeping pills that Nagi had packed for him. He didn't like to take them, but the pressures of his job often left him unable to sleep. Guilty conscious, he supposed. Perhaps that was why Nagi had insisted so strongly that he was not as terrible a person as he'd believed. Regardless, the pills were a reluctantly accepted necessity of his life now.

 

After swallowing one little blue pill, Mamoru slid between the cool sheets on the bed, wishing that Nagi were there to help warm them. He had to content himself with curling up against one of the thick pillows, no real substitute for Nagi's leanly muscled body. The pill, and his own tired body, conspired to pull him towards the sleep he so desperately needed.

 

Blearily, he turned a final thought to his friends and what had become of them. He would make it right somehow.

 

So maybe you won't be so terrible after all. Gute Nacht, kind.

 

Damn pills… bad enough that he was being plunged into unconsciousness, but he didn't need to be imagining Schuldig's acidic commentary.

 

TBC.

Schwuler - pretty boy (german)