Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Convergence ❯ Convergence 3 ( Chapter 4 )

Convergence

Part 3

 

Those “blessed” with the gift of foresight tended to have one of several fatal flaws, Crawford considered as he contemplated his most recent visions. They often fell into the trap of assuming that since they had “seen” the future that the foretold events were impossible to prevent and thus became snared in the tangle of fate. Sometimes they worked so hard to deny the events that they had foretold that the unexpected consequences of their actions far outweighed the damage that the visions themselves hinted at. Most ended up going mad in one way or another.

 

He supposed that he was one of the luckier ones, thought he would hardly consider himself as fortunate. He had spent a lifetime learning to balance on the tightrope that precognitives had to walk, working with his visions rather than against them. He had learned through painful experience that the future was nothing if not fluid. Nothing was set in stone until the moment had actually passed.

 

It was this ability that had allowed him to break free of Esset. His ability to read his visions had allowed Schwartz to always stay one step ahead of their enemies, allowing him to mold his team into a formidable weapon that the Elders had not recognized was turned against them until the damage had been done. The Elders had been so caught up with their efforts to fulfill their prophesy that they failed to notice the rebellion forming right beneath their noses, or that the prophesy itself was hopelessly flawed. They had fallen into the very trap that they had warned him of repeatedly in his youth.

 

His visions had certainly led his team to some very strange destinations. They had spent months working for Takatori Reiji in his quest for power, letting the fool believe they were his loyal minions only to abandon him the instant that his usefulness to Esset was at an end. After turning on the Elders, they had their freedom, each of them finally able to choose their own directions in life.

 

Crawford had finished going over his morning reports and was lingering over a second cup of black coffee as he thought about what had become of his old teammates in the years since they started on this journey. Farfarello had surprised them all by managing to find some sort of peace with himself, embracing his madness and finding his own sanity in it. Nagi had left them to apparently join their old enemies, but as most things in life his new position was not all that it seemed. And Schuldig…

 

Well, the telepath remained at his side, a useful if annoying thorn at times. Crawford could never quite be certain if Schuldig remained out of a misguided sense of loyalty or just because it suited his own ends. He would never delude himself into thinking that Schuldig shared his goals, but at least he knew what buttons needed to be pushed to keep the telepath on a short leash. All he needed to mention was that Fujimiya Aya was involved, and Schuldig was more than happy to lend his aid.

 

Which, or course, had led them to their current situation. He had never revealed to Schuldig the totality of his visions concerning the Japanese man, though he was certain that his teammate knew that he was not being told the whole truth. At times Crawford felt a tiny bit guilty for manipulating his ally so blatantly, but it was necessary. If Schuldig could rein in his impulses and actually go along with what Crawford had planned, he might actually gain a bit of what he wanted so badly. Though not quite in the manner that he expected.

 

Which lead Crawford to his current quandary. Since the future was always in motion, ready for the tiniest pebble tossed to change its path, how was he to guide the actions of the others to ensure the best possible outcome? Schuldig would fight if he thought that he was being denied what was rightly his, but young Takatori needed to be goaded into fighting for mastership of his own destiny. And at the center of all things was Fujimiya. How to guide this one without Crawford himself becoming the beast that the Elders had become?

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, replaying the visions in his head. Aside from the gift of precognition, Crawford was also was blessed with a nearly photographic memory. He could recall every aspect of his visions, replaying them endlessly in his head and taking note of the slightest details. He had the feeling that he was missing something at the moment, possibly something important. There were several factors in all this did not yet make sense.

 

Oi, Fearless Leader, a mental voice snapped at him, trying to get his attention.

 

Crawford fought down a smile, not missing the irritation in Schuldig's telepathic call. He knew that his teammate was anxious about the man he was guarding. Yes, Schuldig, he thought back, letting the other man know that he had 'heard' his call. How is your charge doing?

 

Complaining that he doesn't like hospitals, me and the universe in general, Schuldig answered. For someone who's supposed to be out cold, he sure can think awfully loud.

 

I'm certain that you just hate that, Crawford mused, chuckling to himself. Strange that for a man with no apparent psychic gifts of his own, that Fujimiya seemed to have a real ability to both block and communicate mentally. Had Schuldig not been so confident that Fujimiya was not a telepath, he would have been convinced that the Japanese man had at least latent telepathic abilities. They had yet to figure out just precisely what he was.

 

Takatori should be stopping by before he heads home, Schuldig advised him, giving a brief mental yawn. Just wants to check up on the Kätzchen before he leaves. I get the feeling that he doesn't trust me.

 

I wonder why that is, Crawford commented. You only helped to murder his half-sister, kidnapped him, engaged in all sorts of mayhem at the expense of him and his…

 

Ja, ja… I'm evil incarnate, the bad seed, blah blah. Crawford could 'hear' as Schuldig groaned and stretched, the stiffness in his joints from having spent a ridiculous amount of time sitting in an uncomfortable chair clearly radiated through their shared link. The one I should really kill is whoever is managing the kitchen here. The food is awful enough to hospitalize anyone with functioning taste buds.

 

I certainly hope that you didn't contact me just to complain, Schuldig, Crawford stated, trying to refocus his mercurial comrade on the business at hand. I'm rather busy at the moment.

 

Just wanted to find out if you picked up on any new information, the telepath thought back. There's no sign of anyone casing out the hospital.

 

Nothing at the moment, Crawford answered truthfully. At least nothing pressing that we need to be concerned with. So far, it seems that whoever has targeted Fujimiya has been thrown off the trail. Have you set your plans with Takatori?

 

The little shit knows what he has to do. He just isn't happy about it, Schuldig commented. He doesn't like to admit mistakes.

 

It's important that he brings the others in as quickly as possible, Crawford insisted, knowing that the telepath did not want to see one former Weiß member in particular return.

 

He could clearly feel Schuldig's irritation at the reminder. I know what I have to do, the telepath shot back, a bit testily. You don't have to keep harping on it.

 

I need you to keep the big picture in mind and not get distracted. Our focus must be in keeping Fujimiya alive. Fail that and all of our work will be for nothing. Don't let yourself be distracted by your own ambitions.

 

Schuldig didn't answer immediately, but Crawford could easily feel the anger directed at him over their link. Crawford knew that in Schuldig's mind, he had more than earned the rights to claim Fujimiya, but things were not going to be that simple for the telepath. Hopefully, Schuldig would be able to push past his own short-sighted wishes and do what was best for the man that he desired so badly. If he could not, then all of their carefully laid plans would fail.

 

I promise not the kill the bastard when I see him, Schuldig promised, a bit sullenly if Crawford was any judge. I know what's at stake.

 

Good. Get young Takatori moving. It's past time the old man relinquished control over Kritiker. If the organization is going to be salvaged, it needs a definitive change in leadership. And we will need Kritiker if we're going to deal with Esset. Just remember that.

 

Again, a wave of anger was shot at Crawford, reminding him that Schuldig was not entirely in agreement with his plans. It wasn't until that vision of Fujimiya bleeding in the snow that convinced the telepath to go along with him.

 

Crawford began to pick up on a residual thought coming from Schuldig's direction, but that hadn't originated from the telepath himself. It wasn't so much a coherent thought as a collection of jumbled feelings, with anger being first and foremost. Apparently, someone else didn't like being the subject of Crawford's manipulations.

 

See? Schuldig demanded, a bit smugly. Not everyone thinks that your plans are so wonderful.

 

Crawford frowned, still not understanding how Fujimiya was able to listen in on their mental conversation without Schuldig deliberately involving him. He did not like variables that he could not anticipate or control and he was very tempted to have Schuldig go rummaging through Fujimyia's brain until they knew exactly how he was managing this. If he didn't already know that Schuldig would refuse the order or that it might cause irreversible harm to the injured man, he might have done just that.

 

How much does he know is going on? Crawford demanded, needing to keep Fujimiya in the dark and under control until the man had no choice but to accept their help.

 

Schuldig mentally shrugged. Not much. He's pretty drugged up and I'm trying not to let him “hear” too much. I don't know how he's picking up on it.

 

Crawford liked this less and less. Block him. I know he's not in any condition to resist, but until we know what is going on, I need him controlled, Crawford demanded. He had learned a very long time ago not to underestimate the Japanese man's abilities to spoil his carefully plotted operations. He could not afford to take any chances now.

 

Schuldig grumbled, but complied with the order. The mental whispering coming from the other mind quieted as Schuldig carefully reenforced his mental barriers. Is that all, mein Fürher? He asked, not bothering to hide the snide tone of his thoughts.

 

Crawford inhaled deeply, reminding himself firmly that killing Schuldig was not an option at the moment.

 

For now. Make sure that you get some rest, he ordered, the tone of his orders frosty to empathize that it was Schuldig's effectiveness that he wanted to preserve, and not out of any interest in the other man's well-being,

 

Awwww… I'd almost think you cared, Crawfie.

 

Schuldig.., Crawford sent back, a sharp warning clearly flavoring his thought. Stop playing games and do as you're told for once!

 

Jawhol, mein Fürher, Schuldig snapped back, giving a mental Nazi salute before abruptly ending the connection. Crawford bit back a snarl at his operative's behavior. Damn it, the man knew how he hated that.

 

Finishing the last of his coffee, he shoved the thoughts of Schuldig to the back of his mind and refocused on his memories of the last vision. Fujimiya's ability to listen in on their mental conversation was a surprising new dynamic to consider, but it made perfect sense when he considered his most recent vision. Something was now starting to click into place, though the pattern was still incomplete. What he was seeing chilled Crawford to the bone.

 

He inhaled sharply as the implications became somewhat more apparent. His sense of reason was insisting that what he was considering was impossible, but nothing else made sense. He would have to investigate further to see if he was correct in his assessment but if he was right, then the threat to them all increased tenfold. The only thing that was certain was that Fujimiya was the fulcrum of all that was to happen. The choices he made, and whether he lived or died would decide all their fates.

 

* * * * *

 

Schuldig growled low in his throat as he abruptly ended his communication with Crawford. Damn imperious bastard. He just couldn't resist shoving it in Schuldig's face that it would only be a matter of time before Kudoh would be sniffing around Aya again, and that he could do nothing to prevent it.

 

He was so tempted to go out and find some nice vulnerable brain to fry, but that was against orders. And he doubted that his little sleeping kitten would appreciate finding out that Schuldig was committing his usual death and chaos. That didn't even begin to touch what Crawford would do to him if he found that he was taking his temper out on a bystander. Which the all-knowing bastard most certainly would.

 

No, he had better sit here and behave himself. Aya should be pleased with his uncustomary exercise in self-control. Sighing to himself, he looked down at the unconscious man, pleased to see that he seemed to be resting easier.

 

“I hope that you appreciate what I'm doing for you, kätzchen,” he groused as he reestablished his mental link with Aya, for once not needing to force the bond. The other man's mind seemed to have grown accustomed to the intrusion, and dare Schuldig hope, even enjoy it. Or at the very least appreciate some familiar company and the ability to make his feelings known until his body healed.

 

That pleased Schuldig to no end, as did the comforting feel of the strengthening link between them. He hadn't liked shutting Aya out like that but until they knew exactly what was going on, it probably would not be a great idea to have him eavesdropping on Schuldig's communication with Crawford. When they were alone, however… He opened his mind to the unconscious man,

 

A rush of mental images and feelings entered Schuldig's mind, a sure sign that Aya was indeed beginning to heal. The thoughts were much stronger now. There still was a lack of coherency that would come from actual lucid thoughts, but he could definitely get a clearer sense of Aya's feelings that he had been able to earlier. First and foremost was the genuine surprise that Schuldig had stayed with him, second being his curiosity as to the reason behind his actions.

 

Schuldig smiled, smoothing back Aya's hair from his face, careful not to disturb all the tubes connecting the Japanese man to the various pieces of medical equipment around the room. Did you really think I would leave you? Schuldig thought to him. Sorry kätzchen, but you're going to have to do better than this to make me leave.

 

He was surprised to get a sensation of relief coming from Aya that was quickly squelched, but he might almost think that the Japanese man was genuinely pleased to find him still there. The link between them must be getting stronger, Schuldig considered, not at all adverse to the idea. He rather liked the thought of Aya wanting him around, even if all he could do was sit here and watch the man sleep. Perhaps this was something that he might be able to turn to his advantage if he played his cards right.

 

With Aya soothed and comforted, Schuldig decided to turn his attention to his own needs. Sitting up all night had left him a bit cranky, hungry and achy. Not to mention that he felt as if his clothes could walk away under their own power. Reaching out, he found the mind of one of the sweet little nurses who was just preparing to leave for her morning shift at the hospital. It took hardly any effort at all to plant in her head the idea to bring that nice man sitting all night in the ICU a set of her boyfriend's clothing to wear. Oh, and to pick up a bit of breakfast for him.

 

* * * *

 

Mamoru arrived at the ICU for his meeting with Aya's doctor, pleased to find out that his friend was a bit stronger now, though still unconscious. While Aya faced a lengthy recovery and the possibility of further complications or infection, he was definitely doing much better. They were even considering moving Aya to a regular hospital room if his condition continued to improve.

 

A decent night's sleep and a wake-up call from Mamoru's lover to check on him did a great deal to improve his mood. He now had a clear set of objectives before him, which was always far easier to face than simply fumbling about in the dark. While he was not looking forward to having to own up to his shortcomings to his old teammates, he needed to deal with the mistakes he had made and how he'd hurt his friends. Only then could he move forward.

 

He could return to Japan with his w for Aya marginally lifted, at least as far as his immediate health was an issue. He just needed to make sure that Schuldig was holding up his end of the deal. The telepath would have been stuck at the hospital all night, bound by his promise to watch over Aya. Admittedly, there was some small, nasty part of Mamoru that was looking forward to seeing the telepath, especially as he would have been up all night and looking rumpled and unkempt. It would be a petty consolation, but undoubtedly a pleasant one after all of the grief that Schuldig had caused them in the past.

 

Mamoru was quite relieved to see that a few pieces of the medical equipment that he'd seen yesterday supporting Aya were gone. While he was still hooked up to several IVs and a catheter which Mamoru was certain was not very comfortable, the medical support seemed far less intrusive than it had yesterday. Aya looked a little better, the lines on his forehead seemed less deep and he appeared to be actually sleeping rather than deeply unconscious.

 

“I told you that I would take care of him,” a voice chuckled from behind him, startling him. Mamoru responded instinctively, ready to repel the possible attack. He suddenly found both of his wrists firmly grasped and pinned behind his back, bending his arms painfully as a heavier body shoved him against the floor.

 

Mamoru had to fight down a sense of panic at being taken so completely by surprise and struggled against the restraint, only to nearly have his arms twisted from their sockets. A hatefully familiar voice hissed directly in his ear, “Let's have none of that, shall we?”

 

Mamoru was able to turn his head enough to see Schuldig's grinning face above him, surrounded by a fall of slightly damp orange hair.

 

The telepath gave him a little shake, like a terrier would with a rat he'd caught. “We have a lot of work to do. So no more violence, eh?” he ordered, waiting for the smaller man to give a nod before releasing his arms, shoving him back against the floor a little harder that strictly necessary.

 

Mamoru caught his breath, trying to hide the wince at feeling his wrenched arms move. With as much dignity as he could manage, he got to his feet and straightened his jacket, annoyed to see the unflustered telepath return to his seat beside Aya's bed.

 

Once again, Mamoru wondered if leaving Aya under Schuldig's watch had been a good idea, Nagi's insistence notwithstanding. Schuldig seemed completely unconcerned by the unkind scrutiny, resuming his breakfast of what looked like a very heavy circle of bread topped with some kind of white and fluffy spread. A large cup of coffee from a local take-out place sat on the table next to Aya's bed.

 

“You bastard!” Mamoru spat, enraged that Schuldig would take his responsibility to watch Aya so lightly. “You left him alone?”

 

Schuldig grinned back at him, his posture completely relaxed. “Take it easy, kind. I left him a grand total of five minutes so I could grab a quick shower in the residents break room. Wasn't it nice of them to let me, as I'd been here all night? I kept my `eye' on him the whole time.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “I made sure that no one came near him the entire time I was apart from him. As for breakfast, one of the nurses very kindly brought me something to eat so I wouldn't be subjected to another meal of bad hospital food. Oh, and some fresh clothes. Wasn't that sweet of her?”

 

Mamoru took in the new attire, a pair of neatly pressed chinos that were just a shade too long for him and a cotton knit sweater that made his eyes look more deeply blue than usual. He looked neat and quite refreshed, hardly the disheveled creature he'd hope to find. He looked far too pleased with his own cleverness for Mamoru's comfort.

 

“I'm sure that you had something to do with her uncommon kindness,” he answered sharply, hating how the German always seemed to have the upper hand in their encounters.

 

The telepath shrugged, popping the last of his breakfast into his mouth. “Perhaps I won her over with my pretty eyes,” Schuldig said mockingly, batting his lashes at him. Mamoru glared at him, draining the humor from Schuldig's voice. “Sheesh, lighten up a little, kind.”

 

“I have a few things that I need to worry about, so forgive me if I'm not in a joking mood,” Mamoru shot back. He looked down at his unconscious friend, wishing that the other man would just open his eyes to reassure him that he was going to be all right.

 

Schuldig gave a deep huff of exasperation. “He's going to get better, kind. Just needs a little time and rest.” The telepath paused for a second, and then grinned widely. “He wants you to stop worrying so much. It's giving him a headache.”

 

Mamoru's gaze moved to the telepath, genuinely taken aback by the command. No doubt, Schuldig had picked that up from Aya. His friend had always hated being fussed about, even when injured. “You're in his mind?” he asked sharply, already knowing the answer.

 

Schuldig smiled coldly, placing a hand down on Aya's. “I'm always in his mind, just a little bit,” he answered, squeezing Aya's hand in his as if to reassure him. “From the day I first met him, I knew that he was something precious. Imagine tasting the sweetest wine, having the flavor wash through your entire being. Do you think that anyone would just be able to walk away from that?”

 

He glared into Mamoru's eyes, sending a chill down the younger man's spine. “You're mind, however, stinks like rotting fruit. Personally I don't know how Nagi can stand you, but his taste in lovers has always been questionable.”

 

Remembering Nagi's infatuation with Tot, Mamoru couldn't quite disagree with him on that point. He refused to let Schuldig's comment hurt him. Remembering what Nagi had told him of Schuldig's true feelings, he knew that he could use that concern for his own ends. He most certainly did not like the way that Schuldig was touching his friend, as if Aya were an old, cherished lover. He was certain that if Aya were awake and able to defend himself against such familiar treatment, Schuldig would be pulling back a stump, but unfortunately Aya could not protest. And Mamoru needed Schuldig's help too much to.

 

“I honestly don't care how my mind tastes to you, just so long as you stay out of it,” he said flatly. “I need to know that you'll be able to take care of Aya until I can get the others here. Nagi is already at work on it, but we're still talking a few days at best. Can you handle that?” he demanded, his tone daring Schuldig to refuse.

 

Schuldig chuckled, giving Aya's hand another squeeze. “I'll manage. Just make sure that the other kitties are ready to play. If I find that they're no help, I'll kill them myself.”

 

Mamoru smiled, knowing that the threat was an empty one. “No, you won't. You want to keep Aya safe, and you can't do that on your own. So you have to work with us. Glad to see that I'm hardly the only one here getting my strings pulled.”

 

Schuldig's smile faded slightly as he realized that he had fallen neatly into Mamoru's verbal trap. “Touché, kind,” he granted. “Apparently we are on the same page after all.”

 

“Good. I'm glad we agree on that.” Mamoru leaned his hip against the foot of Aya's bed, relaxing slightly. “How will you know to act on Yohji? I want to make sure that he's not alone when you wake his memories.”

 

The telepath sighed, returning his focus to the business at hand. “I'll keep a mental watch on him. When you signal me, I'll break down the blocks. But you'd best be prepared for him, kind. Sealing away those memories didn't ease the pain; it just allowed it to fester for the past year. He's going to be a right mess when he comes to,” Schuldig warned.

 

Mamoru nodded, knowing that the other man was right. “I know,” he said softly, not looking forward to that moment. “You don't have to keep reminding me of how big a mistake I made with Yohji, but I'm not going to make it worse. I'm not going to force him to work with us if his heart isn't in it. If he chooses not to go along with this, can you seal his memories again?”

 

Schuldig stared at him as if taken by surprise at the request. “You know, this is the first time that I've actually seen you offering any of them something in the way of a choice,” he chuckled, once again striking with painful accuracy the guilt that Mamoru felt towards his old team.

 

“Can you, or can't you?” Mamoru ground out, struggling to hide from Schuldig just how deeply his words struck. He had been punishing himself enough about his treatment of the others. He certainly didn't need Schuldig's assistance on that end.

 

“I don't know, kind. Maybe,” Schuldig said, appearing just a tiny bit hesitant to Mamoru. “But quite possibly not. I'm good, but the one who shut off his memories had a lot of artificial help and wasn't exactly gentle about it. You can't seal off memories like that without causing a lot of damage. I can't promise how it will end up.”

 

That was as much reassurance as Mamoru knew he was going to get, but he was glad that the telepath had been honest with him. “We'll deal with that when it happens,” he decided, realizing that there was nothing more to discuss. He looked down at his injured friend, studying Aya's face and finally accepting just how badly he had betrayed his former teammate.

 

“Can I talk to him?” he asked Schuldig, struggling to keep on the ruthless façade that had so thoroughly become his public persona. Mamoru knew that he could never make amends to Aya, but he needed to try to explain, to apologize for what he had done. It would not mean much in the great scheme of things, but he had to let his friend know that he had never meant to hurt Aya so deeply.

 

The telepath shrugged. “Sure.” He pushed his seat slightly away from Aya's bed, as if to give Mamoru room to approach Aya.

 

“I mean, really talk to him. Through you, so he can hear me,” Mamoru clarified, mentally preparing himself for what he was demanding. He didn't trust the other man, and the mere thought of having Schuldig plundering his brain made him physically ill. But if he wanted to speak to Aya and know that he was heard, he had no option but to tolerate having Schuldig's help this once.

 

Schuldig's grin turned shark-like, as the opportunity to freely meddle in the mind of someone he loathed was just handed to him. “Of course, kind. It will be my pleasure.”

 

No sooner than the words left Schuldig's mouth that a sharp ice-pick of pain lanced through Mamoru's skull, setting his whole nervous system afire. He grit his teeth, refusing to give Schuldig the satisfaction of crying out in pain, not after he'd all but invited the man to do this to him. But damn it, the telepath didn't need to be so damned rough about it. He clenched his eyes closed, nearly biting his lip bloody when the pain abruptly eased.

 

Mamoru inhaled deeply before opening his eyes. The air around him seemed to have gone thick and black, as if the hospital room were filled with some deep fog. Mamoru suspected that this was what a mental plane might look like to one who had no way of truly interpreting the sensations. Schuldig stood at his side, dressed not in his borrowed clothes but mentally clad in the green jacket and yellow headband that Mamoru remembered as the garments that he had worn during their first confrontations.

 

There was an eerie glow to the telepath's eyes, making Mamoru feel very ill at ease. He knew that he had no power in this world and it almost seemed as if Schuldig was deliberately showing off just how much control he had here. Mamoru knew that it would be very simple for Schuldig to leave him trapped in this world and was almost surprised when the older man bowed, a mocking grin on his handsome face.

 

Follow me, and stay close, he ordered, the voice echoing in Mamoru's consciousness. Aya doesn't like visitors and even though he's hurt, he can definitely fight back if he thinks he's being threatened.

 

Mamoru wondered how that could possibly be, but Schuldig didn't give him a chance to ask. Digging his fingers Mamoru's shoulder, Schuldig all but dragged him through the miasma. A wind tore at them, the cold air biting through Mamoru's clothes, but Schuldig appeared unaffected.

 

That's just my kätzchen, he said lightly, lifting his face as if to enjoy the breeze that was chilling Mamoru to his core. He's getting better at defending himself. If you weren't with me, you'd probably be frozen to the bone right now.

 

“Make… make him stop it,” Mamoru demanded, mentally and verbally. His teeth were chattering loudly and he could hear his voice echo, as if coming from very far away. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to try to warm them, but it did not help. He could feel his blood icing, his flesh starting to crack from the freezing cold.

 

Schuldig didn't answer immediately, as if enjoying the younger man's pain. He let the wind rip at Mamoru for a few seconds more before reaching out with his mind to stop the onslaught. That's enough, Kätzchen. He's only here to talk.

 

The wind did not die down completely, but slowed enough that Mamoru would not freeze to death instantly. Instead, the breeze seemed to swirl before them, forming a barrier to prevent them from pressing on any further.

 

Schuldig grinned, apparently enjoying himself. That's new, he commented, reaching out to mentally touch the barrier. The wind flared again in warning, but did not strike the telepath. You have been practicing. But how about letting us through? He has a plane to catch, and I don't think Nagi would appreciate him dying from a mental case of hypothermia.

 

The wind howled again, this time striking at Schuldig in clear warning. Mamoru watched the telepath grit his teeth as he withstood the onslaught. “What's he doing?” he asked, watching as Schuldig braced himself against the gale and using his own mental form to shield Mamoru from harm.

 

Oh, he's just showing off now, the telepath chuckled. I'm starting to get the impression that he doesn't want to see you.

 

“Schuldig, please…” Mamoru nearly begged, too overcome by the freezing pain and desperation to stand on pride. “I need him to listen to me.”

 

The telepath visibly steeled himself, readying himself for the challenge of facing Aya down in his own mind. Come on, Kätzchen. You're not playing nice and we don't have time for this. Won't you listen to him?

 

The wind roared in answer, lashing at the two men mercilessly. Schuldig grit his teeth as he tried to protect Mamoru, who had no defenses against the assault. Mamoru let Schuldig shield him, his head bowed against the burning cold. The telepath finally sighed, looking down at Mamoru.

 

Sorry, kind, he apologized, gripping his arm as he began to drag him away. He's not in the mood to listen. We're leaving now.

 

“No!” Mamoru yelled, his voice echoing loudly back at him. “We can't! I have to…”

 

What? Make more demands on Aya that he's not willing to go along with? I'm not going to force us into his mind and possibly hurt him. Don't you think you've done that enough? Schuldig demanded.

 

Mamoru looked up at him in shock, not having realized that his presence could possibly injure his friend. Schuldig took advantage of his hesitation and pulled him back, away from the lashing wind and into the dark fog. Mamoru had barely a second to look back, to see a figure obscured by the swirling mist. He caught a brief glimpse of bright red hair nearly hidden by the haze just as he was dragged away.

 

“Aya!” he called out, then there was a flash of blinding pain that sent him swirling into unconsciousness.

 

Mamoru woke what felt like hours later, lying on the cold floor of the hospital room. He gasped, feeling the pinprick pain of chilled flesh beginning to warm. Pushing himself painfully to sit up, he saw Schuldig seated in the chair by Aya's bed, the room silent except for the soft beeping of the medical equipment.

 

Schuldig watched as Mamoru staggered to his feet, giving the other man room to regain his mental equilibrium. Mamoru used the foot of Aya's bed to steady himself, struggling not to vomit as his stomach lurched in protest over the movement. He was shocked to see that Aya seemed to have been equally affected by their confrontation. His pale skin was streaked with sweat, and his breathing seemed more labored, supported by a supply of oxygen fed directly into his nostrils.

 

“Sorry, kind,” Schuldig finally said, breaking the silence between them. Mamoru looked at the telepath and saw what almost looked like genuine regret. “Didn't mean to be so rough when I yanked you out, but it was either that or hurt Aya. No question who I'd pick given that choice.”

 

“Is he all right?” he asked Schuldig, hoping that he had not caused his friend harm. He had not wanted to hurt Aya, but apparently he seemed incapable of not causing inadvertent injury to his old teammate.

 

To his relief, Schuldig nodded. “I think so. Trying to force us out of his mind took a bit out of him. I didn't know that he would be strong enough to fight us like that.”

 

Mamoru sighed, knowing that it had not been Schuldig's fault. He should not have believed that Aya would be at all receptive to him, not after all that had happened. “He's not going to forgive me. Is he?” he asked quietly.

 

Schuldig shrugged, clearly not concerned about that. “Whether he does or not is his business. But he's definitely not in the mood to listen to you right now.” He looked up at Mamoru, his gaze cool and calculating. “Is that going to affect your plans?”

 

Mamoru knew exactly what Schuldig was demanding, wanting to know if he would decide to withdraw his plans to protect Aya now that the injured man had so clearly rejected him. He hadn't thought that Schuldig's opinion of him would matter at all, but it bothered him that the telepath would think he was so childish to even consider such a thing.

 

Mamoru shook his head, trying to push down the deep hurt that Aya's rebuff had caused. He could not blame Aya, not in the least. Perhaps one day, once he'd had a chance to try to set some things right, his old friend might be able to forgive him for what he done to them. But then again, Aya was never known for a forgiving nature.

 

“Kind, let him heal,” Schuldig advised, an uncustomary trace of kindness in his voice. “You have too much to focus on to waste time beating yourself up over this. You can't change the past. Focus on what you need do to now.”

 

Mamoru looked from Aya to Schuldig, surprised to see what appeared to be a bit of sympathy in his eyes. He did not miss how protectively the telepath seemed to hover over Aya, and he realized that his place at Aya's side had been completely supplanted. It was clear that Aya's time with Weiß was done and the kindest thing he could do was let him go.

 

He paused to take one last look at his old friend, realizing that he might very well never see Aya again. He reached out to touch the unconscious man's hand, noting that Schuldig had to visibly prevent himself from trying to stop Mamoru. In a strange way, that comforted him. Schuldig would take care of Aya, he was sure of that. Hopefully, he would do a far better job of it than Mamoru had.

 

He wished that he could reach out to Aya with his mind the way that Schuldig could, even just to brush his consciousness in farewell. Instead, he had to content himself with the brief physical contact, rubbing his thumb over the top of Aya's hand in a paltry attempt at comfort. He wasn't surprise that Aya didn't respond, not even a reassuring squeeze of his hand to assure Mamoru that the message had been received.

 

Looking at the telepath, he also was not surprised to see the thinly veiled contempt in Schuldig's mocking stare. Mamoru released Aya's hand and bid his friend a silent farewell.

 

“Take care of him, Schuldig,” he said ordered softly. “If anything happens to him, I'll come hunting you myself.”

 

Schuldig chuckled at the threat, reaching over to take Aya's hand in his again. It almost seemed that Aya relaxed ever so slightly at the contact, Mamoru thought. He looked much quieter and more at peace, the lines of pain softening. Mamoru stared at his unconscious friend, wondering yet again at how things had come to this point when Aya would turn to an enemy over his old ally. He wanted to say something, opening his mouth, but then deciding against it. Straightening out his clothing, he walked out the door a final time without looking back.

 

* * * *

 

Schuldig watched him leave, glad to finally have the little bastard gone. “Well, he certainly took his time leaving, didn't he?” he asked Aya, giving the other man's hand a squeeze. Aya didn't physically answer, but Schuldig could definitely get a sense that he was glad that the younger man had finally left.

 

Now, how about you explain to me how you did that, Schuldig whispered into Aya's mind, careful not to injure Aya. He was pleased to see that Aya wasn't lashing out at him again, allowing Schuldig's quiet presence into his mind without protest.

 

Schuldig tried not to express surprise at how different Aya's psyche felt to him now. Nothing great or overt, but it reminded him of walking into a familiar room that had only recently been given a fresh coat of paint in a slightly different hue. Just enough to know that things were not entirely as they had been before.

 

This was certainly interesting, Schuldig considered to himself, careful to shield his thoughts from Aya. He knew that if he wasn't cautious, the other man would be able to pick up on his thoughts, just as he had tried to listen in on his earlier conversation with Crawford. If he didn't know better, he would think that latent telepathic abilities were finally awakening.

 

But that could not be. A telepath's mind, like any psychic ability, had a very distinct flavor and feel and Schuldig had been exposed to many telepaths since his power had become apparent as a child. He had been in Aya's mind too many times before to have mistaken his assessment, and Aya was now in his twenties. Much too old for talents like that to all of a sudden awaken. But how else to explain it?

 

Leaning close to the other man, he let his lips brush Aya's temple gently, his long hair falling to tickle Aya's face. Schuldig chuckled at the clear irritation coming from Aya at the sensation, of the hand he was holding wanting to brush the annoying hair away from him but hindered by his motionless body.

 

Oh, you are just full of secrets, my leibchen, he whispered mentally to the other man, feeling the warmth of Aya's skin beneath his hands. Oh, how he wanted to stretch out on the bed next to Aya and finally feel that lean form pressed against his, but he doubted that the medical staff would approve. Silly things, didn't they know that physical contact was the best medicine in the world?

 

Aya mentally growled at him, angry with the liberties that Schuldig was taking. A coherent threat was thrust at Schuldig, images of an enraged kitten coming after him with his katana.

 

Schuldig chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle Aya again. Ah, did you forget that you left your sword with the idiot blond? Just as well, since I have no desire to be disemboweled at the moment, he teased, inhaling Aya's scent. A bit more antiseptic that usual, but thankfully his kätzchen was clean and no longer smelled of blood and sickness.

 

Aya gave a mental huff, and Schuldig got the sensation of being shoved. Biting back a smile, Schuldig smoothed back his hair, not taking offence at how the irritable man was making his displeasure known.

 

Oh, how he wanted to know how Aya was managing this, but such questions would have to wait until the other man was healthy enough to withstand his investigation. In the meantime, he simply maintained the physical contact with the injured man and let his powers naturally burrow deeper into Aya's mind.

 

He closed his eyes, reentering the mental landscape where Aya had so successfully rebuffed his approach before. He took care not to advance too closely, maintaining a safe distance so that Aya would not feel threatened.

 

Schuldig caught sight of the other redhead's mental form, not overly surprised to see that Aya had mentally clothed himself in a simple grey kimono and hakama. Traditional and so very Japanese, right to the core. And people wondered why Schuldig found him so intriguing.

 

Alone at last, my schwuler, Schuldig drawled, making himself comfortable. Mind if I keep you company? It's going to be awhile.

 

Aya glared at him, clearly expressing his annoyance, but he did not try to repel Schuldig as he had earlier. He seemed to give a great mental sigh, resigning himself to the other man's presence for the time being.

 

Hn.

 

Schuldig felt his mouth draw into a smile. A clear and perfectly coherent answer, even if it was just Aya's customary grunt. Oh, Crawford was definitely going to have some questions to answer when he got home.

 

* * * *

 

Ken looked at the cell where he'd spent the last few months of his life, surprised to find the he was actually going to miss it. The little room, kept scrupulously clean which was a marked contrast to his normal living habits, had been a comforting refuge for him.

 

When he had first come here, he had felt as if his sanity had been badly cracked, and the one thing that had been holding him together had been destroyed. His family was gone, and with it the only thing that kept him from going completely mad. One of them was dead, another choosing to follow his own solitary path, and the last… he had betrayed them worst of all.

 

Thankfully, he still had enough reason to recognize that that he had nothing to hold him to sanity after Aya had left Japan and that he had to take drastic measures to save himself. He had seen entering prison as a way to atone for the blood he had spilled while with Weiß, a way to punish himself for what he had done. There he would be locked away from the rest of the world, unable to cause further harm and death. It was meant to be a purgatory of sorts. Instead, he had found it to be a safe haven.

 

Ken hadn't known how long he'd planned to be there when he first entered the facility. He had found it surprisingly comforting to have the ridged structure of daily life there to guide his way. He followed the orders that he was given, maintained the daily schedule of meals and exercise and little by little, rediscovered himself. Weeks passed by in a quiet blur, broken up only by the occasional scuffle when he taught some of the rougher prisoners that they would no longer have the power that they had previous wielded. Those who had traditionally taken advantage of the weaker inmates found their power abruptly checked. He made friends, read books and played more than a few games of soccer. At times he wondered if he'd ever want to leave.

 

He'd known that sooner or later, Kritiker would decide to try to pull him back, but he'd still been taken by surprise when he'd gotten a call from Takatori's boy. As soon as Nagi had mentioned Aya's name, he knew that it was time to leave his sanctuary. The warden, in truth, had been glad to see him go. Not that Ken was any real problem, not with the way he kept the worst elements in line. But the staff was at a loss of how to deal with an inmate who was there by his own volition. They were happier to deal with prisoners who were safely convicted of their crimes.

 

As strangely comfortable as he'd found the place, he was very pleased to be walking out. He'd already bid farewell to his friends and packed his meager belongings. Most of his things he'd given away to his friends, hoping that the small personal items and toiletries might help make the remainder of their incarcerations a bit easier.

 

One of the guards that he had become moderately friendly with in the past few months arrived at his cell to lead him to the processing center. There he signed his paperwork, got the expected admonishment to stay out of trouble and he was escorted back to his life as a completely free man.

 

Waiting for him was Takatori Mamoru, with Nagi at his customary position standing just to the side and behind the young leader of Kritiker. Ken bit back whatever comment he was going to make about his old friend's new priorities. He knew that Omi was dead and gone, and it still grated on his nerves to see this sick facsimile walking about in his skin. Even months in prison had not been able to resolve the anger he felt towards his former teammate.

 

Mamoru smiled, clearly looking tired and worn out. “It's good to see you again, Ken,” he greeted gently. “I hope that you found what you needed in this place.”

 

Ken shrugged. “I guess. It certainly didn't hurt me. Made some friends there, kicked some ass every now and then. I got a few things cleared up in my head.”

 

Such as the fact that he could never trust his former teammate ever again. If it hadn't been for Aya's sake, he would have told Nagi to go fuck Takatori and himself. He certainly didn't need Kritiker ordering him around anymore and Mamoru at the very least owed him keeping the organization off his back.

 

Mamoru nodded, as if perfectly understanding the hidden meaning behind Ken's words. Ken wondered if the kid would ever really comprehend just what his decisions had cost him, but for the moment decided to keep his mouth shut and see what exactly his former teammate had in mind. He was anxious to see Aya again and get him out of whatever fix his friend had gotten himself into.

 

“Nagi said that you needed me to help Aya out,” Ken prodded, not in the mood to play games.

 

Mamoru nodded, looking vaguely distressed about something. Ken could only guess that whatever trouble Aya was in, it was serious.

 

“We'll talk in the car,” Mamoru decided. “We don't have a lot of time and I need to brief you quickly. Come on.” He turned and headed out the door, Nagi pausing to give Ken a long measured look that warned him to go along with things for now.

 

Ken bit back a curse and hefted his duffle bag up onto his shoulder, irritated that neither of them offered to carry it for him. Mamoru had really bought into his new persona, grating on Ken's already short nerve. He'd better get some answers soon or they'd been learning how quickly Nagi would be able to pry his hands away from Takatori's throat.

 

The car was an unassuming-looking sedan, but Ken could tell just at a glance that this car had been modified with protection in mind. Armor plating and bullet-proof glass were just the most obvious modifications. Nagi got them both seated in the back seat, finally reliving Ken of his bag and stowing it away in the trunk before taking his place behind the wheel. Ken glanced out the window as they drove away from the prison into the serene countryside.

 

As they drove past small houses and rice fields that had been cut back to stubble, he finally turned to the man who had once been his friend and demanded, “Okay, you got me here. Now tell me what's going on.”

 

Mamoru sighed, and for a second Ken felt almost guilty about being so harsh with him. It was obvious that his position was weighing down heavily on the younger man, and it seemed pretty clear that Mamoru was miserable. He looked as if he'd gone a week without a decent night's sleep.

 

“As far as Kritiker knows, you are still inactive and I plan on them getting word that you were tragically killed in an altercation at the prison. That will leave you free to move without interference, at least for a little while. Nagi has prepared all of the documents you'll need when you go to New York.”

 

“In America?” Ken asked, rather surprised. “Is Aya there?”

 

If Mamoru felt any hurt that Ken seemed concerned only for Aya, he didn't show it much. He just nodded, looking vaguely distant at the moment. “I don't know if Aya was in touch with you at all after he left Japan, but he's in serious trouble now. He was attacked and nearly killed in New York. Right now I have someone that can be trusted to a point watching over him, but I need to make sure that Aya is kept safe while I try to sort out who was behind it.”

 

“So, why do you need me?” Ken asked. “You've got plenty of agents you can call on. After all, aren't you head of Kritiker Japan?” He couldn't quite manage to hide the bitterness in his voice.

 

“I'm asking you because I can't trust any of them!” Mamoru exclaimed, his calm façade finally cracking. “I don't know what you think my power is, but I hardly have full control over Kritiker here and I certainly have no control over it elsewhere.

 

“I don't know if Kritiker was behind the attack, or some of the old Esset holdovers, or just someone that Aya got on the wrong side of. All I know is that there are very few people who I can trust to protect him without alerting Kritiker to what I'm doing. You are one of the few who can move without bringing the notice of the whole organization. I know that you don't give a damn about me, but I need you to protect Aya!”

 

Ken was genuinely taken aback by Mamoru's outburst. He had to keep in mind that this was not just more Takatori manipulation. If Aya really needed him, he would have to go along with Mamoru for the time being. But Ken swore to himself that if he found that this was just another of Kritiker's schemes, Takatori Mamoru would not live to regret his mistake.

 

Mamoru handed him a file that detailed the months of surveillance Kritiker had compiled on Aya. “I was able to keep Kritiker from interfering… so long as Aya was targeting the criminal element that we normally work against, they decided to leave him alone. But without knowing who was behind the assault, I have to accept the possibility that Kritiker, or at least some elements within the organization, might be involved.”

 

Ken nodded as he read through the file, rather amazed at how much territory Aya had managed to travel through since they last met. So many countries and cities, never staying more than a few weeks in each location and in each place, the worst criminal elements thinned a bit. Ken wasn't sure if he wanted to hug Aya when he saw his old friend next, or pummel him for being so damned stupid.

 

“So when do I leave for New York?” Ken asked, closing the file. There was absolutely no question about him accepting the task.

 

Mamoru's posture relaxed a minute amount, as if suddenly in relief. “Tomorrow evening. We have a few details to work out before you go. While you're in America, I'll try to piece together what happened. Hopefully, I'll be able to find who was behind this.”

 

The younger man paused, seeming suddenly concerned about something. “Ken, things are probably going to get very bad with Kritiker,” he warned. “I can't control things as much as I need to. I'm making a very big gamble here. If I lose, you very likely will never be able to return to Japan.”

 

Ken shrugged, not at all concerned at the prospect. “What do I have to stay here for? It's not as if I have a whole lot of ties here. I'll manage.”

 

“I need you to understand just how bad it's going to get,” Mamoru stated flatly. “If I fail, I won't have any means of protecting you. They will find out that you're still alive. Remember how bad it was for us when my uncle became Prime Minister?”

 

Ken nodded, remembering those dark days when Weiß had been ruthlessly hunted by the police and military, labeled as terrorists during Takatori Reiji's mad grab for power. It was a miracle that they had all made it out of that alive, but Ken had to wonder if the seeds for the division between them all had been planted then.

 

“This will be far worse,” Mamoru insisted. “There are Kritiker organizations all over the world. You won't find anyplace safe where they won't be able to track you down. But I promise you, I will do whatever I can to keep you safe. And I will do whatever I can to disable the organization enough to give you a head start.”

 

“I know what I'm getting into,” Ken insisted, pushing aside any concern that his former teammate might have tried to awaken in him.

 

Mamoru's expression softened slightly. “I know you do. I also know that I'm asking a great deal of you right now, especially after everything that's happened between us. I need you to trust me, Ken. There's a great deal that I really can't explain the reasons behind, but I need you to understand that everything I'm doing and everything I did was to protect you and the others. Even if it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Ken demanded, suddenly confused.

 

The younger man looked very sad all of a sudden, turning his gaze away from Ken to stare out of the window. “You'll see very shortly. We'll be making a stop to hopefully pick up your teammate. I can only hope that he is going to be as understanding as you were.”

 

Ken was even more confused now, wondering at what Mamoru was up to now. “What teammate? All there is of Weiß is the three of us.”

 

Mamoru smiled sadly, shaking his head. “This is one of the things that I need you to trust me about. I need your help in bringing Yohji into this. I doubt that he's going to listen to me, but hopefully he will listen to you.”

 

And Ken felt his world turn off its axis yet again.

 

TBC