Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Fluesternd ❯ Part 5 ( Chapter 5 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*****5*****


How do you define a nightmare?

Are they merely dark and frightening dreams, terrorizing the innocent while they sleep? Are they subconscious outlets for our most primitive emotions? Are they some twisted form of punishment we have no control over? Do they even have a definition at all? Or......does a dream become a nightmare solely through our own misunderstood interpretation?

Depending on whether you dream in color or black and white, your overall perception may differ while dreaming. Colors are brutal, and they burn more firmly into your all-forgotten memory than those less apparent tinges ever could. Shades of grey fade into the background, because they are less striking, less powerful.

Given this description, one might expect all hues of grey to follow suit; existing in the world as somber, disregarded creatures, which make no impact on the world.

If you believe this......you are wrong.

Luckily, nightmares and dreams played out like those archaic, 50's television shows, leave less of an imprint. How unfortunate then, how unfair, for the many of us who see endless tints of rainbows and paint sets in brilliant colors.

It almost makes you wish for grey......


*****


The air breathes in as ice, burning his throat with each gasp for mortally precious oxygen. Misted vision depicts a hazy world, frozen and impossible to define. There is nothing but cold, a feeling of emptiness, and the billowing fog in front of him. Whether he is standing, sitting, or even floating, he can't be sure. His body doesn't exist here anymore.

Brad Crawford is lost, his analytical mind frenzied in the search for understanding. This place is so familiar, and yet he cannot remember the last time he was here. The chill, the mist, the transcended feeling of weightlessness as if he is merely a spirit searching for something he misplaced foolishly long ago.

(Where am I.....?) he wonders, hearing his thoughts echo strangely back at him. (Is this the world we have created.....? Is it over....? Did we succeed....?)

"Anyone here?!" his dreading voice calls into the unseen, emitting from a mouth that isn't truly there. "Schuldrich?! Farfarello!? Nagi!!! Nagi, answer me!"

Nothing responds save the sound of the wind swirling the clouded air around him. The fog is a prism of different shades - silvers and blues, reds and yellows - instead of being bland and colorless as it should be. It's almost as if the very air is trying to paint a picture for him to see. A picture he forgot he once knew.

Listening intently for some delayed reply that might filter it's way through the dense atmosphere, Brad' sharp ears begin to pick up a silky, haunting noise. A chirping which sounds far too much like......

Laughter.

No, not the nasal, taunting laughter of a certain, German red-head. Not *that* lingering sound. This laughter is melodic and beautiful, like a young girl's exclamation of joy. It is suddenly everywhere, bouncing off shadows and fog as it surrounds Brad's entire form - whatever form that may be.

"Who....who's there!!?" he screams, unable to move since he has no true legs with which to run away on. "Show yourself! Where....what's-"

He stops. In front of him the mist is no longer as thick and enclosing; it is thinning, fading, revealing the hint of something......someone else there. The image is so blurred, so indistinct, Brad believes that wherever he is he must not have his glasses. Even as the image clears with the drifting fog, only a ludicrously few amount of sensations etch their way into his memory:

That unearthly call of musical laughter, so eerily lovely, though it stings his chest as the air continues to sting his lungs. And......a final, brief view of long, curled hair......

Black. Everything is abruptly thrown into darkness.

Vaguely, Brad becomes aware of his eyes being closed, and once again feels the comfort of his physical body. With a start, the American snaps open those coppery-brown eyes, feeling a sharp intake of warm air rush over his raw throat. He doesn't need to pass his gaze over his surroundings to remember where he truly is; he already knows. Safely tucked in bed, and drenched in a cold sweat from the dream.

(Not again........) his still fuzzy mind begins frantically. (........the same damn nightmare, the same picture and feeling..........what does it mean!?!)

(What does it mean indeed...?)

The door to Brad's room - a sensible space secluded down the hallway from the others' - is cracked open just enough for a particularly glinting, jade eye to daringly peer inside.

(What else is in your dreams, Bradley......?) Schuldrich wonders, reaching out with his mind into the now vulnerable and open thoughts of his leader. (....painted fog....cold....a delicious out-of-body experience....and....) he recounts, grasping all he can before Brad instinctively blocks him out again. (......curls?)

Boom.

Like the mental echo of a door slamming shut, Schu is thrust back into his own mind, awkwardly stumbling away from the door after the jolting break of contact. He is overwhelmed with dizziness, breathing deeply to compensate for the shock to his system.

(Damn!) he thinks in a brief burst of anger, glaring at the door. Nonetheless, he composes himself quickly, walking in long strides down the hall as he cleverly slips out of sight before Brad can realize he had been eavesdropping. (So brutal and mistrusting, Bradley.) His thoughts begin lightly then, bringing a familiar smirk to his impish features.
(What are you hiding......?)


*****


The most passionate emotions always remain in hiding.

After all, it is foolishly dangerous to do otherwise. Humanity immerses itself in humility, not because it feels a need to be humble, but because it feels a need to mask the truths it is too timid to reveal.

Broom bristles scratch ceaselessly upon already cleanly swept pavement. Gentle fingers continue to move the handle back and forth, unaware that their work is complete. The owner of those soft-skinned hands has his attention focused elsewhere; trained curiously across the street.

"Omi, stop sweeping the cement off the sidewalk and help me with these customers!" Hidaka Ken calls desperately, surrounded by a barrage of anxious school girls flashing meager change for flimsy flowers. Their true intentions for frequenting the shop are clear enough for anyone to figure out. "Did you hear me? Omi?!"

The younger boy starts, jerking his head back over his shoulder. "Huh? Did you say something, Ken-kun?"

Frantically, Ken finishes handing out the bundles of flowers to each girl, motioning them over to Youji at the counter to pay. Once free from those all too eager hands, the brunette looks to Omi disgruntledly.

"Baka! I could've used your help is what I said." he grunts, stalking over to the bright-eyed boy. "Daydreaming again? It's not going to make last night any clearer."

Omi's forehead crinkles in contempt and he tosses his broom to the ground. "I can't help it! This is so frustrating! We can't even keep an eye on them; they don't have any windows except for the little triangles of glass on the door."

"I know." Ken replies more softly, shaking his slight indignancy away. "Ran says we just have to go about things like nothing's changed. Right." he adds sarcastically. "Easy for him to say."

An uncomfortable silence seeps between them as both boys allow their gaze to linger on the building across the street. Somewhere inside are answers to questions they never imagined they'd have to consider.

"Ken-kun.......what do you think they want with us?"

"I don't know." Ken answers his smaller friend, turning to him with a reassuring smile. "I don't think they want to chop us up into little pieces or run us out of business, though. That's something."

Clumsily, Omi laughs at his comrade's try for lightening the mood. "Yeah, that is something, I guess." he smiles, blue eyes brightening slightly, only to be shadowed once again. "Say, have you seen Aya-chan this morning?" he asks, suddenly taking note of the purple-haired girl's absence. "And Ran, he was only down when we opened. Where did he go? Are they off somewhere together?"

Ken's face darkens as he turns back towards the shop, looking up at the windows which loom above him. Silhouetted behind a tightly closed shade in the one farthest to the right, is the outline of a stiff, frigid figure.

(A pillar of ice........) the dark-haired, young man imagines, whimsically bitter.

"No, they're not together. He's been up in his room all morning, watching them." Ken speaks aloud, expressing his words in an unascertainable tone. "I haven't seen Aya, though. I wonder where she is......"


*****


(There she is......)

Warm rays of sunlight brighten the ground with glorious light, polishing the golden-green leaves of the many trees that surround the quaint, little clearing. A powerful scent of cherry blossoms saturates the air, and the breeze carries a few of those pink petals along in its relentless cycle.

Seated in the center of the field inside the line of trees, is a frail-looking young girl with turquoise hair and eyes. She is clutching a tattered, stuffed bunny to her chest while she rocks oddly back and forth upon the ground. Her mind is consumed with so many heart-breaking thoughts, in fact, she doesn't even realize she is being watched.

(So lonely, dear Nanami. Such a troubled, little girl.)

Poised carefully behind the trunk of a broad tree, Rosuto Aiko watches the peculiar girl with interest and sympathy. Having left "Kitten's Cafe" before it opened, she had merely thrown on a simple, button-down dress which she always seems to wear when her main concern is comfort. It is pale yellow, short-sleeved, and flows down to her ankles with slits up both sides. Crimson tresses fall long and loose down the back of the soft fabric, and her caring, motherly smile is planted gently on her face.

(The poor thing......) Aiko thinks to herself, slipping out of her hiding place as she approaches the girl from behind. (......just listen to her......)

"Rabbi-chan.......do you think.......he'll come back today.....?" a fragmented, pitiful voice asks, her words traveling on the light breeze. ".....I don't like....being alone....and you.....you don't talk back to me........not really........"

(Darling girl.......you're just a child, aren't you...?)

"......I wish.....I had someone....to talk to......."

Aiko is positioned just behind the aqua-haired young woman, nearly peering over the girl's shoulder as her low-toned voice replies, "Wish granted."

Startled, the somber girl jumps up from the ground, whirling around as she reaches for the ornamental umbrella at her feet. Eyes wide and filled with fear, she points the contraption at Aiko defensively, a sharp spike protruding from the top. Aiko, however, is a picture of calm.

"Stay....stay away!" a shaking, high-pitched voice commands falteringly. "No one's supposed to know about this place........who.......what do you want......?"

Exuding a sense of ease, Aiko smiles warmly, remaining still so as to not frighten the girl more. "Do not be afraid of me, Nanami. I won't hurt you."

"Nanami.....?" the girl replies vaguely, unthinkingly lowering her arm, while the other one clutches her frayed bunny all the more tightly. "But......my name's Toto."

With steady, cautious steps, Aiko moves closer to the young woman, her firy hair sparking like a thousand matches beneath the morning sun. No one could find her threatening; she is far to much the figure of a fairy-godmother - a gentle aura within a pleasant form.

"Your name wasn't always Toto." the red-head corrects gently. "Do you remember? Do you remember your life before Masafumi?"

Toto is visibly disturbed by the basic reminder of her past with Schreient, and her umbrella has fallen back to the ground with a soundless thud. Ocean eyes drift into memory as she searches for the small specs of life before her world was consumed in the Takatori mind of corruption.

"I remember.......Papa was a bad man......." she answers with hesitant words, staring into nothing. "......he always talked about how he missed Mama so much.......but I don't remember her........she........wait. Why.....why do you want to know? Who.....who are you....?"

As if she hasn't a care in the world, Aiko sits down amongst the flowers, allowing her pale-colored dress to fan over her crossed legs. "A friend, Nanami. I want to help you." Gracefully, she gestures for Toto to join her, pure kindness pouring from her violet eyes.

(......she looks like the mean man from Weiss......) Toto imagines, carefully joining Aiko in the grass. (.....but she isn't like him at all. She seems so nice, and.......I don't wanna be alone.......)

"What's your name?" she asks curiously, a child-like sense of trusting overpowering her fears. "How do you know me?"

"My name is Aiko," the red-head begins simply. "And I know *you* because I also want to help your friend, Nagi."

The glorious sound of that name animates Toto's features instantly with a look like a child on Christmas morning. "Nagi-kun!?! You know Nagi?!" she exclaims, dropping her stuffed rabbit in her lap as she clings to Aiko's arm.

The kind-hearted red-head laughs melodiously. "I know quite a bit *about* him, but we haven't met yet, I'm afraid." she answers. "I thought it would be better if I got to know *you* first."

Deflated, but still much more uplifted than she had been a few minutes earlier, Toto crinkles her forehead inquisitively. "I don't understand. You want to help us? Help us how?"

Taking Toto's hands from her arm, Aiko grasps them gently, a serious yet peaceful look overrunning her glowing features. "I'll answer your questions if you answer a few of mine. How about that?"

Toto is slightly unsure, but consents with an affirming nod after a moment of thought.

"Wonderful. Now....." Aiko begins. ".....tell me, how often does Nagi visit you?"

"He used to everyday. Sometimes even more than once." she replies instantly. "But.....he won't be able to for awhile. Schwartz won't let him come. It's that horrible Crawford-san.........he doesn't like me......."

(Crawford......) Aiko restates in her mind.

"It's awfully hard on you with Nagi being in Schwartz, isn't it?"

Teal strands of glossy hair bounce in agreement as Toto nods, the most incredible, child-like pout playing on her lips.

"I bet you'd be alot happier if Nagi wasn't apart of them," the red-head continues, hints of a foreshadowed plan weaving into her tone. "If the two of you could be together all the time, you'd be much happier, wouldn't you?"

Once again, the young girl nods fiercely, gripping Aiko's hands with desperate zeal. "Is that what you've come to help with?" she asks excitedly. "Are you gonna get him to leave those mean men so we can live together like we promised?"

"That's the plan." Aiko confirms with a growing smile. "At least part of it. My friends and I want to help *all* of Schwartz. We want to help them realize they don't need to be......mean men anymore. Do you understand?"

The morning had begun with a relentless chill, light wind brisk enough to bite as Spring continued to push and peck its way back into the waking world. Now, happily, the sun's light is all the more warming, like the quilted blanket waiting by the fireplace to warm every good, little boy and girl after winter's play.

Hope is in the air.

"I think I understand." Toto says with a smile, gently releasing Aiko's hands as she eyes the red-haired beauty in fascination. "Are you......." the girl begins then, unsure of her next question. "......are you.......an angel...?"

Passion warms the heart, and no passion stirs with more motherly comfort then true admiration, based not on falsity, but on inspired faith.

Aiko is a vision in the morning sun, glowing with radiance from the inside out as much as from the rays of gold bathing her peaceful form upon the grass. It is her turn now to take hold of Toto's hands, gazing reverently into the young girl's eyes.

"I suppose, in a way, I am. But, I'm not the type of angel you're thinking of, Nanami. I only have one wing." she speaks her words softly, with deliberate delicacy. "One wing, just as you do, and just as everyone else in the world does, too."

Toto is in awe, taking to heart every word.

"We are all one-winged angels, you see," Aiko continues. "Unable to fly alone. But, if we have just one other person in our life willing to beat their wing in rhythm with our own, we can sour higher than any creature God has created. Imagine, Nanami, how far you could go if a million wings were beating together. That is what I'm striving for when I say I've come to help you. I want to see you, every member of Schwartz, and every member of that misguided group of white do-gooders, fly together."

Fairy-tales of myth and magic flutter throughout Toto's scattered thoughts, forming images of some heavenly kingdom on earth. A kingdom which - once upon a time - may have existed, but one the world brutally turned to ashes long ago.

Standing from her spot on the grass, Aiko helps Toto to her feet, taking the girl's arm as she leads them both in the direction of a small, lonely cottage just beyond the trees. Glinting in the still rising sun, a peculiar umbrella has been left behind, and a distraught, stuffed bunny lays forgotten beside it.

"Come with me, Nanami. There are many things we have to talk about......"


*****


There is nothing to talk about.

There is nothing to mull over or question. There is simply fact, and the dauntless, waiting hours ahead for what may unexpectedly blow in with the wind.

Time enough has passed, a half an hour in actuality, but time enough for Fujimiya Ran to make his way down from the living quarters above "Kitty in the House," after watching vigilantly the mysterious shop on the other side of the street. The cool air of the morning has prompted him to dawn a familiar, old, orange sweater, which he hasn't worn in over a year. It's peculiar how unaccustomed events makes one long even more for the comfort of past peace.

Even if that peace never truly existed......

"Aya-kun, where have you been? We had a rush this morning, you sleepyhead." Omi reprimands playfully, flitting past his friend as the red head opens the door from upstairs. The blue-eyed boy knows quite well that Ran isn't late because he slept in - Fujimiya Ran never sleeps in - but because he had been unable to remove his watchful eyes from a certain point of speculation. "We're short-handed today. Hurry and help us, will you?"

Obediently, Ran reaches for his apron hanging on the hook near the back counter, slipping it unceremoniously over his head.

"Short-handed?" he asks with hesitation, casting a nervous eye over the shop as he grabs hold of Omi's arm to keep the boy in place. "Where's Aya? Hasn't she been in?"

Omi clumsily fumbles for an answer, his darling features contorting with apprehension as he stalls for time. But, just before he can think up some excuse to ease the red-head's growing anger, he's saved by the bell. Literally. Just in time, the little bell on the shop door dings, signally the entry of new customers.

"Ohaiyo, minna. Look who I brought."

The four florists turn their attention to the door, where a pleasant dispositioned Aya-chan stands happily, with three unique guests poised defiantly behind her.

"Great, just who I was hoping to see today." Youji groans sarcastically, leaning back in his chair behind the front counter. All the lovely ladies of Fluesternd, save one, have popped in for a visit - just as they said they might - escorted by the sister of Weiss' leader herself. "So, you showed up after all, and just so you could ruin another one of our mornings, right?"

Sternly, Aya stalks towards Youji at the counter, one hand on her hip, while the other points an accusing finger in his face. "Be nice, Youji-kun. I've been talking with "Kitten's" owners for almost an hour, and from what I've learned, you have no right to be so rude to them. Why, I'd say you should apologize for how you've treated them up till now."

"Apologize!?" Ken barks in response, unthinkingly slamming his fist down on the table beside him. "They're the ones who should apologize! They could've gotten us killed!"

"Enough with the theatricals already, huh, honey?" Hiromi steps in, walking up to Ken with her unforgettable sway. "We *saved* your asses, if I remember correctly."

Witnessing the unfolding events, Ran can't help but reach a hand up to his forhead, rubbing his temples in anticipation for the oncoming headache of an all too familiar situation.

"Saved us? Saved us from what?!" Ken demands irately, tossing his arms into the air.

"From a deplorable mistake, you uncivilized grunt!" pipes in Nori, her silver eyes blazing with metallic fire from behind her glasses as she stares Ken down. "The mistake of taking innocent lives! You're such a hopeless brute, you probably don't even care!!"

Oh, the joy of instant replay! Doesn't it all seem so familiar?

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!!"

All eyes turn in shocked silence to the tantrumed, elfish brunette who has moved to the center of the room. Her high-pitched voice echoes over the walls and surfaces of plant-life like cannon-fire on a battle field.

Amaya has spoken.

"Don't make me take your voices away again, because I'll do it like *that*!" she continues, throwing her threatening, emerald eyes about the room. "For once, can we just talk to each other without jumping down peoples' throats? We barely even know each other, and we're acting like a dysfunctional family or something."

An ashamed stillness instantly washes over the room, changing it from a pot of boiling water to a frozen pond.

"Arigato, Amaya." Aya grins, hopping herself up onto the countertop. "Now, you boys ready to listen up?"

Far from amused, Ran makes his way across the room to his sister, firmly prepared to take over the situation. "What's this about, Aya? How did they get you involved in this?"

"I got *myself* involved, Ran-niisan." she replies, just as resolutely. "You want to listen to the rest of what they have to say. Trust me."

All sound seems to cease, as if Amaya had indeed hindered the sound waves in the room, though guilt and awe are clearly enough to instill such quiet.

(This is insufferable. Now they've even pulled Aya into this somehow. We have to know what they're planning, and how it involves us.) The ever-suspicious red-head thinks carefully, eyeing the female group with caution, and noting with odd disappointment that one member seems to be missing. (I want to know everything......)

"We'll listen," he states, breaking the choking silence. "But this time, you will leave nothing unanswered. Understand? No more deception, or we'll put an end to these games of yours once and for all."

Tension creeps into the joints of every inhabitant of the shop like solidifying cement around the feet of an unfortunate soul. Reading between the lines of Ran's abrupt statement is not a difficult thing to do, and his intentions are clear as shattered glass to both groups. After all, Weiss' missions have never been to defend the innocent, but to punish the guilty - by any and all means.

There is no room for benevolence.

"Then accompany us to "Kitten's Cafe," Abyssinian," replies a voice near as cold-hearted as his own. Nori - her blue curls tied back, though a few ringlets are loosely dangling in front of her eyes - has stepped forward, taking command in Aiko's absence. "All your answers await you there, I promise. But, I caution you in acting on your threats should those answers not appease you. I certainly wouldn't want to see you hurt."

An electric moment of trepidation sparks between Ran and his fellow ice queen. However, Ran is never one to be outdone.

"Lead the way......Somali, I believe it was?" he answers with a dark glare. "I'll be holding you to that promise."


*****


The day is miraculously holding volumes of promise.

Leaving Aya behind to watch over the shop, both groups carefully begin crossing the street, keeping obvious distance from one another, as if they were at some junior high dance with girls on one end while the boys hover in the corners of another. Well, Amaya is the exception. Glowing with flirtatious zeal, she has taken possession of Omi once again, playfully whispering into his ear words which either throw him into fits of giggles or turn him redder than Ran's flame-drenched hair.

"This feels like a trap..." Ken mentions suspiciously to Youji as they approach "Kitten's" door. "Why do we need to come to their place for answers, anyway? They have too much control over us if we work under their terms."

"I like it when women take initiative." the playboy replies with a sly grin. "Gets me all hot and bothered."

Releasing a deep groan of disgust, Ken rolls his eyes while whacking Youji hard on the arm. "Don't you ever think about anything besides who's pants you're getting into next? I'm being serious. What if this is all a trick?"

"Guess you'll just have to take a chance and find out, Mr. Kitty." a woman's voice purrs from behind the two.

Ken jerks his head back to discover Hiromi just behind them, with a rather contented smile upon her full, rosy lips. Pointedly, she sweeps past them, reaching the door before anyone else, and swinging it open for the others to enter.

"Your first surprise you'll notice the second you walk inside." she continues merrily. "But, I promise it isn't a firing squad."

Nori brushes past the others quickly, disappearing through the door as if she had been yearning for the chance to escape the evil warmth of sunlight, and Amaya - with Omi semi-willingly attached - followers her inside. The three remaining Weiss eye Hiromi and the door like one or the other is about to eat them alive, but eventually ease their way past the blonde tempest, shuddering as she closes the door behind them.

On first inspection, there is nothing unordinary about the place since their last visit, besides the impressive amount of customers browsing the aisles and enjoying treats at the cafe stand. However, looking more closely at *who* is playing clerk and waitress today, all four boys lose a few breaths in shock.

"Birman?! Manx!?!"

Freeze-frame. Double-take. Could reality be playing tricks on them again, or is life really this ironic?

What do you think?

After a quick, panicked glance at the door, Manx kindly finishes her exchange of cash for coffee - with a rather impatient customer - before slipping out from behind the cafe counter towards the others. Birman joins her, leaving the cashier desk behind, with a surprisingly calm look on her snowflake-pale features. Both appear right at home in the cozy, little shop.

"Well, you boys have alot to get caught up on," Hiromi's sultry voice rips through the tensed, awkward pause of voices. "Why don't you follow Nori and our 'mutual friends' upstairs? Amaya and I can handle the customers."

"What?!" an indignant brunette pipes in, releasing Omi's arm as she flies towards her buxom teammate. "I wanna listen in, too!"

Stone-etched features toss a glance of disapproval at the faery-child, as Nori's silver eyes glitter with authority. "Someone has to watch over the shop, Sokoke. Besides, you already know everything they're going to hear." Nori heads past the others on this, walking to the back of the store - a few extra curls of midnight blue loosening from her ponytail.

The members of Weiss are all equally aghast and struggling to fend off horrid headaches, while Manx and Birman gesture after the embittered young woman confidently.

So much can change a life. So little, actually, is all it takes to spin one's world upside down, backwards, and out of orbit from the normal, happy peace of humdrum life.

In the case of a certain deadly quartet, life will never be the same......


*****


Life will never again be more devious.

"I want to know what's going on NOW!!" Ran bellows, pacing furiously within the kitchen of the apartment above "Kitten's Cafe," which - oddly enough - seems practically identical to Weiss' own upstairs apartment, complete with five bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a simple - and suddenly very cramped - kitchen.

"That's what we're hear to explain, Abyssinian." a voice speaks softly in response, unbelievably unfazed by the red-head's anger.

Birman has spoken from her chair at the kitchen table, obviously drained already from the oncoming conversation. Manx flanks her to the right, Nori on the left, and Youji is sitting across from her. Omi found a comfortable spot up on the counter beside the sink, and Ken discovered that fading into the corner was the most pleasant spot he could possibly choose to stand, especially in helping him stay out of Ran's way.

Somehow, the crisp, spring air had tightened as humid as summer swelter.

"Then explain." Ran demands again, slamming his hands down on the table while leaning with malice towards the brunette. "Why are you working for Fluesternd? Who are they to you? What are they up to? What does it have to do with Kritiker? With Botan? With Persia? What the hell is going on!?!"

Eyes fiercer than any other aspect of her placid demeanor could possibly be bore into Ran as Birman returns his glare, unflinching after his barrage of enraged questioning. "First, understand that we are not working *for* Fluesternd, but *with* them. There is no one we work *for* any longer."

"But, what about Persia -" Omi tries.

"Persia?" she instantly cuts him off. "Persia died from a fatal gunshot wound. You know that. You were there."

No one can argue with her logic, but the question remains, if Persia is in fact dead...

"Who have we been accepting orders from then?" Youji asks, voicing the obvious question.

"The man you were destined to take order from......until now, anyway." Manx replies with a sad grin, folding her arms over her chest. "I didn't like it at first, but we had to go along with *them*......for Fluesternd's sake. For your sake, too."

Willing his tightened lips to move, Ken asks gently, almost too softly to hear, as if he is afraid of the answer. "Them? Them...who?"

As if a winter wind has suddenly blown in from the north, the little kitchen drops a few degrees colder in temperature, threatening to freeze everyone to the bitter bone. All eyes move to Birman, even Nori's and Manx's, though they know the answer already.

"You followed the orders of a computer generated copy for so long after the real Persia died. It's not surprising that you didn't even question who was guiding you when a new shadow stepped in as replacement." Her voice is distant, far from the gentle tamber they are so used to hearing from her. "He masked his voice, slicked back his hair, and made you believe Kritiker had risen from its ashes......even though all of it was a lie."

Though quite a few pairs of eyes are fixed on her, Birman has directed her question at Ran, staring deep into his violet depths.

"After Takatori Shuuichi's death, Kritiker was already beginning to fall apart, even though Botan tried to keep everything together, and after nearly all of our operatives were assassinated by Schwartz, Kritiker ceased to exist altogether." pausing, Birman gestures to the red-haired woman beside her. "Manx and I are the only members left, and we kept the truth from you because it's what Botan would have wanted. We had no choice. If we hadn't gone along with *them*, Fluesternd wouldn't have come this far, and their objective is too important."

"Yeah, that's all fine and good..." Youji breaks in impatiently, leaning back in his chair. "...but could you get to the point. Who are *they*? Who has Persia really been all this time?"

Her sunken expression clearly revealing the reluctance she has in admitting the final truth, Birman takes a breath, looks each member of Weiss squarely in the eyes before speaking, and finally says, "They......are Schwartz. And for far longer than you'd like to believe, Persia has been......Brad Crawford."

Was that ice forming on the countertop, or was the frosty air merely a figment of the imagination? How unbearably cold, like a nightmarish sweat, forcing the astonished members of Weiss to break out in beads, gasping for breath.

Infuriated enough to physically need the act of calling out, Ken's tenor voice echoes with a horrified howl before he can form actual words. "Crawford......" he breathes at last. ".......we've been following orders from that psychotic psychic all this time!!"

The young brunette's words ricochet off the walls, flying past a flabbergasted Kudo, a slowly sobering Fujimiya, and a fearful Tsukiyono, who is also compelled to speak, though beyond his own will.

"Then.....all our missions.....have we been......killing......innocent -"

"No. Of course not, Bombay. We'd never allow that." Manx interrupts quickly, mending the boy's misplaced grief. "Your missions have always been legitimate. Crawford couldn't afford to give you a false one. He knew if you were to ever become suspicious, your quest for answers would lead back to him, and that would have disrupted his plan."

Regaining his unbelievably lost voice, Ran's arms fall to his sides limply, a peculiar ache resonating in his chest. "What plan?"

"To keep you preoccupied and out of his way." Nori answers, speaking for the first time since being joined by the others upstairs.

"But.....if the missions were on the level...." a frazzled Youji begins, trying to make sense of it all. ".....then what was that red-haired leader of yours...Aiko...talking about when she said those men weren't killers last night? Was that a real mission or not?"

Accepting the reins once again, Birman replies. "No. Your most recent mission *was* a false one. The only false one, thankfully. We believe Crawford issued it to get a closer look at Fluesternd. If this is true, then Schwartz knows more about all this then we anticipated, which could be very dangerous......to us all."

The atmosphere of the room hangs in perpetual chill, just unbearable enough to numb the skin, but subtle enough to be dismissed. A grave quiet latches the shutters of sound shut with a resounding bang. However, more questions remain.

"I still don't understand." Ran speaks with narrowed eyes. "How did Crawford do this? How can you believe Botan would want us to follow that madman's orders!?"

Before Manx or Birman can answer the red-head's desperate inquisition, another red-head answers for them, her low-toned voice calling from the doorway.

"Because of *me*, Abyssinian."

All eyes turn to the figure silhouetted in the door-frame, her flaming hair glowing surreally in the sunlight shining from a window behind her.

"You......you're behind all this....." Ran breathes with a tone like fire.

"I suppose I am, but if you want to know the full truth, I suggest you listen to what I'm going to tell you."

Aiko enters the cramped kitchen - growing smaller by the minute - and begins to pace purposefully around the room, addressing everyone at once as she takes control of the conversation.

"I know you'll have questions, but save them. Most of what I'll tell you will answer them anyway, so please, just listen."

Her voice is soft but forceful, demanding attention and compliance. As she begins, her fierce, violet eyes glow more brilliantly than Ran's ever could, proving her passion for what her motives and story hold.

"Let me start from the beginning." Aiko speaks steadily. "Let me tell you how Kritiker first began. There have been numerous organizations like it, of course, but this one was quite special. For you see, it originated from the dreams of two very unique - yet similar - men. Dreams of vengeance and justice."

Was the air cold? Was it scorching and unbearable? No. It was nothing. Just still, calm, stolen out of time.

"Did you know Botan once worked on the same police force as Takatori Schuuichi?" she asks, not waiting for an answer. "Persia wanted to create a group of mercenaries to help him watch over his brother, Reiji, which you *do* know. But it was Botan's loss of his wife and child that blossomed Persia's ideals into Kritiker."

Aiko passes Ran as she speaks these words, looking to him as if he must already know this much of the story, though he can't understand how she could possibly know that he does.

"Yes, Botan had bigger dreams, much bigger. He wanted to wipe the city clean of all those criminals who escaped the law. In truth, he was using it as an excuse to search for his family, but.......he was too late for that. He found his wife dead, and his daughter......he believed to still be alive - though missing - right up to his own death."

Once again, violet eyes meet violet eyes, and Ran has to wonder. (How does she know? How does she know Botan told me about his past.....?)

"Let me step away from Kritiker for now, and explain how Fluesternd was formed." she continues, still pacing the room with purposeful footsteps. "That's really why you're all here. All because of me and *my* dreams, and because Botan took the time to listen to them. Remember what I told you last night? That all of this began with Schwartz, though it also involves you?"

She pauses gracefully, surveying the room. They are all transfixed by her hypnotic voice and movement, and merely nod for her to continue.

"You see, a few years back I was living in Ireland. A small, strange, little town, which was extremely Catholic. I didn't really get to know the people that well during my stay, but there was one, darling nun I met whom I got to know quite well."

(I don't believe it......) Ken's mind buzzes as Aiko passes him. (She can't mean.......could it be......?)

"She was the sounding board I needed at the time." Aiko goes on, reminiscing with a soft smile. "And after all the help she gave me, how could I refuse being the same for her? Actually, she was all too willing to tell me about her past. Poor thing had kept so much bottled up for ages. You see, it seems she had a son. A son who hadn't known she was his mother until one very unfortunate day indeed. He was quite distraught when he found out that the family he had been living with all his life wasn't really his family at all. It was too much for him, too much in realizing that his entire existence had been a lie. And so......blindly, at such a young age.......he killed that false family that had raised him. Killed them in a rage he couldn't control."

Pause. Oh, yes, such a truly unbearable pause.

"Does this story sound familiar.......Siberian?"

Startled by the sudden turn to him, Ken flinches, eyeing Aiko in complete disbelief, and mirroring the expression his fellow teammates wear as well.

"That's right. Ruth was a wonderful woman, wasn't she?" Aiko adds in a melancholy tone. "I only wish she had lived to see my promise to her fulfilled."

There is a sadness, regret perhaps, which filters into the red-head's voice. Truly, though, it is amazing how she has taken control of the room so completely.

"I had no direction in my life then, no purpose, no.......but I stray from what's important." The red head continues, pushing past such heartbreaking memories. "What is important, is that I promised Ruth I would bring her son back. No, not that I would capture the man you know as Farfarello and send him home, but that I would save that misguided, young man somehow, and bring *Jei* back to her."

Practically all of them want to speak up at this, something they believe to be the most unbelievably impossible, stupid, foolish thing they have ever heard, but none can find a voice to express it.

"To shorten things as much as I can, I went out in search of him. If there is one thing I can say about myself, it's that I am indeed very resourceful. I knew he was here in Japan, and I knew I was going to need help if I was to keep my promise to her. So, naturally, my search led me to Kritiker, and Botan nearly laughed at my proposal. 'Reforming a maniac like that? Impossible!'"

(That's certainly what I would have said......) Omi thinks with a furrowed brow. (Who would want to save someone like that? He.......he killed Ouka. Farfarello murdered her for nothing! No reason except to see my reaction......)

"I was insistent," Aiko presses on, wanting to address the stricken, questioning features of the members of Weiss, but knowing she must continue. "But when Botan told me about *you*, I knew this was going to be much more difficult than I had first imagined. Simply put, there's just too many of you connected. Weiss. Schwartz. Kritiker. I needed a definate plan. I needed help. So, I asked Botan for aid, and he gave it to me."

Stopping just behind Nori, Aiko grasps the back of her friend's chair.

"Hiromi was already a member of Kritiker at the time, and she jumped at the chance to help me; Amaya was also connected with the organization and was more than willing to join; and Nori.......well, Nori found me, actually, but that's another story."

She releases the back of the chair, continuing her lyrical pace with a sudden, frightening seriousness.

"Together we had purpose enough - for various reasons - to go after all of Schwartz. And, after learning so much about all of you, we decided to go after you as well." A curious smirk plays at the corner of her lips then. "It started as a sort of bet between Botan and myself, actually. He wanted to be able to complete his work without bloodshed, but he didn't see how it was possible, and I........perhaps I am old fashioned, but I have never found any reason to condone MURDER, no matter what excuses you veil around it!"

The sharpness of those last few words cut very deep into the members of Weiss, all of them glaring back at her as she moves fervently about the room.

(What else were we supposed to do.......) Youji thinks bitterly.

(She thinks she has a right to judge us! She knows nothing of us!) Ran's thoughts burn equally with fury.

(How can she.......she doesn't know......she doesn't know what we've been through to bring us here......) Ken tries to rationalize, years of guilt clawing and scratching its way into his thoughts.

Even Omi finds pained visions in this red-haired woman's words. (It's all I ever knew......what am I if I'm not......Weiss.......)

"Forgive me, I shouldn't let my temper break so easily." Aiko mends suddenly, briefly pausing her frantic steps. "I do not mean to judge, nor give any pretense of understanding why you have chosen the lives you lead." It's as if she is reading their very thoughts. "Please, let me finish answering what you need to know, and then you can berate and ridicule me all you wish for what I've said."

Her explanation reaching its end, Aiko stops right where she had begun, silhouetted in sunlight filtering in from the kitchen doorway.

"When Persia died, Botan knew it was the beginning of the end. Too many factors were involved, too many complications. I told him I wanted to confront both you and Schwartz right then and there, before things got out of control, but......he didn't want to risk beginning a battle we weren't ready for......"

For a moment, Aiko seems at a loss for words, a hint of tears forming in her glittering eyes, but she forces her emotions aside.

"Botan wanted to give Fluesternd more time to prepare for a confrontation, so I....I backed down and decided to wait. I never could have imagined what would happen. Before I knew it, Botan was dead, and Estet was killing off members of Kritiker left and right with the use of Schwartz and their other operatives. When it was all over, and Manx and Birman informed me that Crawford had taken over Kritiker's resources, *I* told them to follow Brad's orders - to have *you* follow his orders, because Botan would have wanted to give Fluesternd all the time we needed. I couldn't go against him, because......*I* was the reason he died. He was only trying to help *me*, that's why he got more involved with Weiss personally."

Her impassioned, tearful words are addressed to Ran more than any of the others, and whatever anger he may have had fueling inside of him slips away under the stress of her eyes looking so imploringly into his own.

"I can only blame myself for his death. He shouldn't have been out there! But......I can't rightly say I wish he hadn't been, because he saved your life, Abyssinian, and in the end, all he had wanted was to help see my dream made a reality. All he wanted was for me to prove him wrong......" Her voice trails off slightly, and the most tearfelt smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "....he saw hope in me.......hope he had lost when he lost his family so long ago. If only you knew how often he told me that he saw the same hope in you, Abyssinian. In all of you. My dream was just as much his in the end. If I lost all other reasons for continuing my plight - saving innocent lives, damned lives, *your* lives, for you don't really fit in with either group - if I lost all that, I would still continue.....for him."

Grandly, Aiko lifts her head with regal power, beseaching them all now as the violet fire of her eyes almost seems to glow.

"Now it is finally time to end this. Schwartz is readying whatever destructive plan they have been waiting to accomplish, and you are left without any support. No Persia. No Kritiker. No purpose. The rest of my story is up to you. To Weiss. I'm asking you, all of you......will you help us?"

The very walls heave a sigh of relief, wanting to burst with the mass of emotions filling the room, and feeling a great peace in having such a heartfelt tale brought to an end, and left open with a simple question. A question which - though meant for all four assassins - is directed at Ran to answer.

(What am I supposed to say?) Ran wonders, sick to the stomach, and the heart. (How can I speak for the others? I don't even know what *I* want. It's not as if she can just wipe away the years of blood stained on our hands! What......)

"What do you think you can accomplish with all of this?" he asks intently, secretly craving to cast a glance at any one of his fellow teammates, though too proud to openly go searching for help. "Do you think we can just pick up and stop being who we are, pretending we're suddenly....saved? Like you're some preacher pleading for our souls? You think we can just forgive ourselves, let alone Schwartz, and become what you believe we should be? How?! How-"

"Enough!" a voice even more embittered than Ran's screams unexpectedly. Nori has risen from her chair, livid with liquid metal eyes and flushing cheeks, and reminding them all of her presense as she continues to speak. "I never expected anything out of you! I knew you wouldn't listen! All you can think about is how pathetic and hopeless you are, like you're something to be pitied. Well, Aiko may think that's true, but I don't!"

With a look, a tiny, disappointed look, Aiko silences her friend, moving closer to Ran who is still leaning against his comforting wall.

"She has her reasons for saying what she does," Aiko breathes, stepping nearer to him by the moment. "We disagree on many things, but it still comes down to this; you need to make a choice. All I ask of you, all I expect from you, is that you try. Help us reach Schwartz before it is too late for them, before it is too late for you. Listen, Talk, learn to leave your weapons behind and give us a chance. We are all in this for different reasons, but all of us, Nori included, want to see the bloodshed stop-"

"Even if we're killing off the scum of the earth?" Youji asks suddenly, looking over at Aiko with something in his emerald eyes far too cold to be true.

If Aiko looked disappointed in Nori for speaking out, it is nothing compared to the look she now gives him. "Yes, even then. Life is so precious, no matter how......how corrupted or black it may seem. Yes, there are black beasts in this world, Balinese, but what gives *you* the right to be their executioner? Your pain? Your past? If mine does not give me that right, than your most certainly does not!"

Cryptic. To the point, unmerciful, but still a mystery. Aiko has a way of making people think. And, after all, thinking is the beginning of everything, especially when you're forced to think about things you once believed would stay buried long before *you* ever were.

"I......I never wanted my life to turn out like this......"

Everyone's eyes follow the whispered, high-pitched voice that has spoken, to discover an extremely shaken Omi, with silent tears streaming down his face, and becoming more audible by the minute.

Youji looks at his friend almost with disdain at first, but immediately wants to kick himself for it. For resenting that Omi has always more openly hated what they are, voicing so much more often what all of them feel.

Even the noted jock, Hidaka Ken, has to fight with everything left in him to keep his own tears from falling. Pain buried again and again and again only to one day - long overdue - be released, is pain a million times more wrenching than it ever had to be.

As for Ran, he has no excuses for dismissing what Aiko...what Fluesternd......what.......Botan asks of him, but that doesn't mean he can turn his back on the hard-working sense of worthlessness and denial he has been harvesting for so long.

"Bombay.....all of you......" Manx breaks into the growing silence lightly, seeming to appear out of thin air considering how she and Birman had practically faded into their chairs during Aiko's long story. "....you don't have to live the rest of your lives hating who you are and what you've done. Persia, the real Persia, would never have wanted that."

"Don't look at this as a trap." Birman adds. "Look to each other instead. Not as fellow assassins, but as friends. What do *you* want?"

A stillness like none other that had fallen on them so far, blankets around the group like an ashen quilt. A person may not be able to change in a day, but their life most certainly can.

Aiko breaks the quiet with her soft footsteps on the floor, bringing her ever closer to Ran as she looks to him once again for an answer. "What do *you* want?" she asks, repeated Birman's words. "Do you want your life back, Abyssinian? Your sister back?"

"I....."

"Do you want to prove you can be more than your family name, Bombay?" She drives on, turning out to all of them. "That you are more than what the world thinks of you, Siberian? That there is hope, and second chances for everyone, in everything, Balinese? The choice comes down to you all."

Her violet eyes burn brighter than ever before, turning back to Ran for a reply. All of them understand why she continues to look to him, because they realize - just as she does - that he is the one who must voice what Weiss' choice will be.

What is he to do?

Panicked, Ran looks to each of his......friends......and finds the same answer in all of their faces. No matter how feeble, the human mind always clings to hope. We can't help it, we have to. Sometimes it is all we have.

"Korat....." his deep voice answers, barely audible with the difficulty of these words, and all that is weighing so heavily on his heart. "....for Botan....for......for all those we have lost.....including ourselves.....I can only say we will try. We will....." He pauses, hardly daring to believe he is about to say what he must. "We will help you......even if it costs us our lives."


*****A/N*****


This should explain almost everything now. I hope you're enjoying it. Please, on hands and knees I beg for reviews. How can I keep going if I don't know what you think? Love you all! :-)