Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Dreams of the Unforeseeable Past ❯ Dreams of the Foreseeable Past. ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and Schwarz belong to Koyasu Takehito & Project Weiß. I'm using them without permission.

You might recognise this from ff.net. ;-) It might not be NC-17, but I was in the middle of writing one and I'd like to keep all my fics in one place.

This fic also jumps about quite a bit. I've been asked this before, so I'll say it now; it alternates between Schuldich narrating a story to Nagi and Farfarello, and all three of them dealing with the consequences a little while later.

~~~ Dreams of the Foreseeable Past. ~~~

"I was Boy Number Forty-Nine, meaning Rosenkreuz didn't think too highly of me. Almost an inconvenience, y'know? I was just an empath back then, so I guess they had a point. I could tell if a person was happy, sad, scared or angry. And that was about it."

"Wish you'd stayed that way."

"Me too, kid. Me too."

***

Crawford stood to attention, his eyes without sparkle, as if the people on the other end of the phoneline could hear him. There was a stillness about him that very few people understood.

"... Eszet? Yes, they will be attempting to eliminate my precognitive skills." He waited patiently before replying, "Yes. All of three of them. Permission to apply as much force as necessary?"

He waited for the answer that he knew he would receive, head bowed.

"Thank you."

He hung up the receiver and his expression did not change as his hand wandered to his gun holster.

***

"So I'm standing at the back of the lunch queue, numerical order as usual, hm? I'm trying to think about how much it sucks that I get the last choice in food, but really all I can think about is how scared the other kids are. Makes me a nervous wreck. They like us that way, because They can control us more easily. They told us from the very start that if we talked to anybody else about escaping, we'd be killed. They said that if anyone approached us about escaping, we had to report it, or be killed. They said they would instruct kids to ask around and see who didn't report them. It keeps us on edge, which is what they want. They really want that ...Makes them pseudo-happy ..."

"You okay?"

"Fine, fine, fine. Dredging up old memories, bad, bad, bad. Rosenkreuz brings back strange memories ...different shades of fear from the other kids, different hues of happiness from Them. The only one who doesn't radiate these emotions is this older boy, who just has this strange aura of quiet sadness. He was officially known as Boy Number One, but They thought highly enough of him to call him by his real name, which was Brad. He was perhaps not the most powerful person in that place, but he definitely had the gift they wanted the most.

"Crawford."

"Not really. Hmph, you actually need to listen to my story first."

***

"Schuldich." Crawford's features were frozen over into something unreadable and his eyes seemed unable to even focus on the man whose name he had just repeated.

"Hi Brad. Been looking for you." Schuldich's voice was cool and assured, yet his eyes flashed malachite-green. He grinned.

"I know." He drew his revolver and aimed it squarely at Schuldich. "Give up."

"No, Brad," insisted Schuldich, although he knew better to tempt him by moving either closer or further away from him. Instead, he tensed his muscles and prepared to remove himself from the line of fire using his superior speed.

"They all die in the end. Did you know that? You involved them, so they die."

Crawford would fire and kill him if he really wanted to. Schuldich hoped he didn't really want to.

"Telekinetics, telepaths, psychopaths. Rosenkreuz has them all. But I am irreplaceable."

"That's why they did this to you, Brad. That's why." He hated sounding so damn melodramatic.

Crawford response was to pull the trigger, but Schuldich was already just a vague shadow racing down the corridor.

***

"So, Brad doesn't even queue up with the rest of the rabble. Lucky guy. He gets to eat lunch with Them and generally makes people feel something resembling a cross between sadness, anger and fear, but no one says anything against him or even to him, just in case they end up dead. Like I said ...Lucky guy. When he first talked to me, I had been in Rosenkruez for about a month, which doesn't sound long, but it was long enough ...Very long ...Too long. Damn, damn, damn. One of you two get me some coffee. Or a cigarette. Either will do."

"Won't. Can't. Wearing a straitjacket."

"I want to hear the rest ...I mean, I don't care, but you obviously want to tell this story. So, I'll let you. No big deal."

"I suppose I can wait. Not like you guys ever do anything I ask. Anyway, back to the story and Brad just suddenly walks over to the lunch queue one day; methodically inspecting everyone, but with brief, nervous looks over to Their table where he usually sits. And that's when I feel his hand on my shoulder. He motions with a jerk of his head that I should follow him, but I don't really understand. I'm torn between walking towards Them and being killed for my insolence or staying here ...there ...for the same reason. But I know that just about everyone considers him to be virtually one of Them, so I follow. I notice that his breathing had been much faster because it slows down now ...then, I mean ... and he's functioning at a normal level again. Before I know it my legs have taken over and I'm being shown my seat at the main table. They introduce themselves to me, and tell me that they are collectively known as Eszet."

"I knew it. It's Crawford, Crawford, Crawford. You're winding us up with stupid fantasies about him again, aren't you?"

"Fine. Go, and return with my coffee, hm? Besides, my 'fantasies' have more of a Playboy feel to them. For the people that are listening, when Eszet introduces themselves, I think I feel more scared that they have names. Normal people don't do what they do. They aren't normal. Maa, don't look at me like that! I never made any claims for being normal myself, did I? But these people sit around and someone, maybe Brad, asks what I'd like to eat. They say I can have anything I want, so I ask for Kartoffelpfannkuchen. Before the word is even out of my mouth, which does not take that long, a waiter has put a plate of potato pancakes in front of me and is serving everyone else too. They all look at Brad and me, all impressed for no reason. He smiles and tells me that my new rank is Boy Number Two, simply because they have it on good authority that I'll live up to it someday."

***

Nagi? Farfarello? Schuldich shouted telepathically. We have a problem!

He heard the slow movement of mind making itself known and knew from experience that that was Farfarello's method of acknowledging him. The equivalent of a soft murmur.

Did he take it that badly? Nagi shot back a fully thought-out sentence with mild 'serves-you-right' overtones.

You have no idea. Are you both still on the second floor?

Once again, Farfarello's mind shuddered in a way that meant something approaching affirmation. Nagi also expressed agreement.

Meet immediately outside the lift on this floor and avoid Crawford at all costs, 'kay? I really mean that.

He dashed down the corridor and noted that Nagi at least was already emerging from Farfarello's quarters, where he had began telling fairytales of his youth just hours ago. "Crawford gonna kill us all unless we reason with him. For real."

Nagi's eyes widened. "What the hell did you say to him? You pushed him too far this time, didn't you? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit ..."

The sentiment echoed mentally for a long time afterwards.

***

"That day, I also find out that I'm moving out of my usual position of Bed Number Twenty-Five in the boys' dorm and sharing a bunkbed with Brad. This is a real privilege as the lower the number in anything, the better the conditions. He's just improved my life by a hell of a lot. The new bed has two pillows, compared to none previously, and I also get a blanket, a sheet and a quilt ...uh, I guess that doesn't matter too much, eh? Anyway, I'm surprised when he tells me he'd arrived just after he'd turned eighteen, meaning that he actually agreed to all this instead of being signed over by his parents. He chose this, he chose this. Fuckin' unbelievable. He tells me that I must have noticed by now that he was a 'special case.' Fact: apart from one of the three leaders of Eszet, he is the only pre-cog they have on record and the Rosenkreuz leaders are now informed that he'll be something of ...well ...a legend. Heh, he hesitates on that word too, but he also knows it's the truth. And then we just talk for hours about why we're here, what we know of our powers and the future. I can't believe we get on so well and I tell him so. He replies to me, 'I never saw my mother's death, but I saw you. Isn't it strange?' I remember that like it was yesterday."

***

"Why don't we just get the hell out of here? Why are we waiting here?" Nagi's voice rang out clear against the solemn muteness of the other two men.

They stood on the second floor, at a T-shaped junction. Farfarello kept his eye on the lift and the floor counter, while Nagi and Schuldich stood watching opposite ends of the corridor.

It was, of course, Schuldich who broke their silence. "If I thought that I couldn't reason with him, I'd suggest that we should all shoot ourselves. He knows what we'll do before we know it ourselves. So we have to wait for him to come to us and hope he's in a good mood." With an exaggerated sigh, he ran his fingers through his sunset-toned hair.

"You have to persuade him that it's to his advantage to change the future. But if you can't ..." Nagi whined and hugged himself desperately, his knuckles white.

"We make God hurt more by our continued existence than by dying. I do not want to die. I do not want to make it easy for Him." Farfarello stared out into space, his single amber eye unmoving.

Schuldich fiddled with the buttons on his jacket and wished that he had been more insistent earlier about acquiring the cigarettes. He needed to calm down. He needed something to occupy his hands. He also needed to think about what he would say when Crawford turned up. He was good with words and his persuasive skills were second-to-none. But against Crawford? Pretty speeches and cutesy appeals to his subconscious wouldn't work. His only hope was that the man wanted to listen.

"We should go down to the ground floor. If Crawford forces himself to let us go, we can run and we might survive."

Schuldich's head hurt at that suggestion. Why wasn't Crawford here yet? If they used the stairs to the ground floor, would he be waiting for them on his terms, having set up some trap to make sure he went through with their murders? Or was on this floor already? He was clever enough. A genius, in fact. But maybe he wasn't as powerful as he appeared. Maybe.

Nagi walked along to the end of the corridor, towards the security door that led to the stairs. After inspecting it thoroughly, he kicked it several times and reported back to the others. It's magnetically sealed. I ...remember helping Crawford design a door that a telekinetic couldn't open by fiddling with an inner mechanism. He walked back, a pained look in his eye.

Schuldich went through all the options in his head. Phone Eszet ...somehow? Only Crawford possessed a mobile phone and Schuldich himself had always felt that he shouldn't need one. Nagi didn't have enough friends to require one, and as for Farfarello ...well, who'd trust him with a phone? In any case, Schwarz were the Eszet contact group in Japan as far as he knew, and to reach anyone with any seniority they would have to make an international call, a service that many networks didn't provide. So what else? Mindblast him? Mindblast Crawford? If he was still in the building, his mental barriers were still up and, if anything, stronger than ever. Split up? Powerful as he was, Crawford could not be in two places at once. But right now, when it came to splitting up, they had the choice of using the lift or staying here. Not much of a choice at all. They might as well combine their powers, pitiful as they were. "How about the lift? I'm starting to think that it doesn't really matter where we confront him. If he wants to win, he can."

Farfarello cackled loudly. He truly was insane.

***

"It didn't take long for us to become friends, and I discover that he'd always known that he'd find me here. Maybe, he says, though it was never maybe with him, we'd become more than friends. He'd come willingly because he was so sure of it, of himself. Then he wraps his fingers round strands of my short hair. It was slowly growing back after I'd had it shaved off when I first arrived. Now I'm allowed to grow it back again, 'cause I'm Boy Number Two, Brad's friend, and I have Privileges. Yeah, he runs his fingers through my hair and tells me that I'm his reason for being there."

***

Farfarello crashed face-down with the sloppy sound of torn flesh. He wordlessly struggled to his feet and his body jerked repeatedly as bullets punctured his skin again and again in a matter of seconds. He stopped struggling.

A figure, dressed smartly in white, dropped down from a small hatch in the roof of the lift and regarded the other occupants of the lift with a cool, yet blank gaze. It landed perfectly, cat-like, gun never diverted from them, and attempted an unsuccessful smirk. "So the horror movie clichés are true ...no one ever looks up, not even in an elevator. Interesting."

The sound of lift doors being ripped open by an outside force and large shreds of metal screeched through the air. Nagi had insisted on not using the lift and Schuldich miserably reflected that he should have paid attention to that, seeing as the kid was the smartest out of all three of them. He jumped out of the elevator with the intention of shielding Nagi, but it was already moving downwards to the next floor with the white-suited thing still on board.

There's no use in not being able to feel pain if you have two bullets in each lung, one in the heart and one in the brain, it whispered softly.

***

"Okay, jump forward about four years or so and I'm still an empath. The institute leaders are getting increasingly angry with me because Brad told them that I'd develop telepathic abilities before I turned eighteen. Wow, what a birthday that's gonna be, eh? I'm not at that age just yet, but I'm getting closer. They ...hurt Brad every day that I go without achieving what he claimed. He comes back bleeding ...everywhere and begs me to try harder. He lets me know the only reason he isn't dead is because he hasn't screwed up completely and his vision might still pan out. He begs me to try harder again, but I can't do any more than I already am, can I? It gets to the evening right before the big day. I'm tense, he's worse, and we are both suddenly sure that we're never ever going to see each other again. We'll probably both be dead and underneath, he tells me, he's still this teenager who just doesn't want to be tortured and killed by Eszet. He strokes my hair, places his forehead against mine, and tells me that even if I'm not 'The One,' it was worth coming here, just for me. He brushes his lips against mine and I cover his mouth with mine, much harder, much more desperately. And this part, Nagi, is where you leave the room. It's quite unsuitable for minors."

***

"If we stay here, it'll be exactly what he wanted. If we crack and go outside or somewhere else, it'll still be exactly what he wanted."

Schuldich fumed that Nagi had summed up their predicament oh-so-very-perfectly. He'd have probably have mentally shouted at him and made him cry, if the child hadn't begun to already. The hopelessness of their situation was slowly seeping through to him as well. They'd done everything they could in this corridor, telekinetically clearing everything out of their way so there was nothing for Crawford to hide behind. He looked around and his eyes rested on the air vent that was opposite them in this new corridor on the ground floor. "Nagi," he said, snapping him to attention. "What do you know about the air vents? Where do they go?"

If looks could kill. With utmost patience, Nagi explained to him as if he were a small child. "Schuldich, don't you think I might have noticed them earlier? And rejected the concept?"

"Um ...yes?" he guessed.

"They are designed so that you can't fit a person through them. Not even me."

Schuldich relaxed. "They look pretty big from here, don't you think?"

"That's just the opening, though. But ..." Nagi thought harder. "I think a person could fit in there and wait. I mean ...if ...if ...he knew we'd be here ..."

***

"Well, Farfarello, it's just you and me. You might drool and play with blenders, but I know you're old enough to handle this stuff."

"I don't drool."

"Figure of speech, then. So Brad and I are clinging to each other, running our hands over the loose-fitting uniforms provided in Rosenkreuz and it feels good. I'm really starting to tune in emotionally to what he's feeling and it all seems amplified, like he's shouting how much he cares about me in a football stadium. I've always wanted to get back that feeling. Always. I gasp and the next minute we're lying on the bottom bunk and he's unbuttoning my top, running his fingers all over me. I tug at his clothes, but he realises that I don't know much about what I'm doing ...imagine that! ...and he's taking them off himself, still managing to place warm kisses on any area that isn't covered. He turns me over onto my stomach, and I think at that point I get what he has in mind. I tense and he asks me if I'm okay with this, because he obviously doesn't have any lube. Do you even know what lube is, Farfarello? ...Oh well. I just tell him if it's bad I'll be bleeding much worse than this tomorrow anyhow. As he enters me, I can hear him whispering my name over and over again. It gets louder and louder, until he's screaming it, but it's as if it bypassed my eardrum and went straight to my brain. I'm broadcasting my every thought, feeling and action to anyone within reasonable distance of us and I just don't care. He hugs me and we come simultaneously ...I'm not just talking about me and Brad, I mean about half the dormitory. I just can't stop laughing and he tells me to never give up that smile. Mentally, of course."

***

Schuldich heard the small, strange sound of something light in weight hitting the floor before he turned round and saw Nagi lying crumpled on the floor, bleeding from a single shot to the back of his head. He just stared as it calmly pulled itself free of the air vents and without even realising it, a single tear slid down his cheek. If nothing else, Crawford loved Nagi, right? He's his adopted son, he cared about him, didn't he?

"You bastard!" Schuldich shouted, standing his ground. After all, there was no one else left but him. "He always believed he wouldn't live 'til his sixteenth birthday! Why the fuck did you have to confirm it for him?"

It looked up from where it was also staring solemnly at the body. "Confirm it? I told him."

***

"Nagi? Sit down, even though you just missed the good part while you got my coffee and did not wait outside, listening in. Anyway, it all goes downhill from here. Brad had been right about me, so they take him away from me every chance they get, rather than just occasionally. Every time he comes back, I can see that he's changed in small ways. The first time, he's having trouble navigating his way round the dorm room. He explains that in order to control him better they're linking his power to his everyday quality of life. He is forced to Anticipate any obstacles in his path and act accordingly. He gets beaten many times until he gets the hang of it because, as he points out, it's damn stupid. Then his expression changes. Or rather, it doesn't. It just keeps the same bored look from day to day as they torture any surprises out of him. I try to change that, to annoy him into action, but I no longer matter. He stops explaining why and what they're doing to him. He no longer cares."

"Told you it was Crawford."

"No, it wasn't him. You were wrong. Later, I find out that I'm being sent to Japan to form a group to carry out Eszet's demands. I walk into the briefing office and he's waiting there already. They've got him trussed up in this stupid white suit that looks as if it's too big for him. He sneers at me the minute he registers my presence and says that it's the first time he's heard of a kid getting his full powers after being taken up the ass. Now it's Crawford."

***

"I miss you sometimes. You never gave me a chance to explain earlier ..."

Crawford continued to point the gun at Schuldich. "I don't miss. I am Brad. I am Crawford. I am Brad Crawford. Nothing changed. They just educated me."

No use getting upset again. No use screaming again. They were gone. He couldn't bring any of them back, but he could save his own life. But by trying to appeal emotionally to this automatic man? He grinned as he realised how impossible that was.

"I see you've kept that irritating smile," its soulless eyes gazed back, empty.

"You told me to. Remember that, Brad?"

A flicker of recognition. "I can't. They'll hurt me. I only know how to use my powers if I'm being someone else. They wouldn't have it any other way."

"No, they can't do that. Not anymore. We're Schwarz, not Rosenkreuz." Schuldich stepped forward and wrapped his arms around its, maybe his, body. He ignored the attempts to tear away as he tried to remind him, as he knew he wanted to be, deep down. That he hadn't shot him yet, that he knew what Schuldich was talking about was all the proof he needed. "We've always done this, haven't we? Shared kisses while the world collapsed around us."

He put the safety catch on, despite not hearing a similar sound from Crawford's gun as the other man ran the barrel of his revolver through his hair, wrapping it round strands of long hair. He cradled the other man's head briefly before pulling him in for a heartbreaking kiss. They locked eyes, jade against hazel, and Schuldich saw that his once-lover was crying. It occurred to him, too, that so was he. If neither of us pulls the trigger, this can last forever, he reminded gently.

"I give in and shoot first," Brad gulped, pulling away. "I know, I've Seen it."

"Why? We've escaped Rosenkreuz, we're far more powerful than them now." Schuldich tried to ignore the programmed flinch to the words 'Rosenkreuz' and 'escape' in the same sentence.

"Because underneath, I'm still the same teenager who doesn't want to be tortured and killed by Eszet." He tightened his grip on his revolver and pulled the trigger.

***

"Schuldich, you've gone quiet. It's freaky."

"Well, that's the end of the story, isn't it? There's no more to say. He stopped being Brad and became Crawford."

"Is it a true story?"

"Who's to say? Does it matter?"

"Yeah, because you've just spent two hours telling us about him."

"Get him back. Remind him, call him Brad."

"Heh, even Farfarello has an opinion."

"But I agree. Just go already!"

***

Schuldich opened his eyes to see Brad lying at his feet, revolver in hand and a self-inflicted bullet-wound in his head. He knelt down and looked at the softer expression on his face. In his eyes, in his smile. It was definitely Brad. He lay down beside him and wrapped Brad's arm around himself, stupid white suit and all.

He'd wait with his gun for the Eszet agents that were sure to arrive eventually. After all, hadn't Crawford seen this ending?

~~~ Dreams of the Foreseeable Past / Owari ~~~