Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Gerechtigkeit für die Toten ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

AN: I apologize for the long delay. It has been a very difficult winter. In fact, it's been one thing right after another for months. I'm just thankful it hasn't been worse, it easily could have been.

Also, I apologize for the insane amount of exposition in this chapter…it had to be done. Many, many thanks go to Moonraven for helping me make it less boring than it was…

Warnings: Extreme violence, slash

Disclaimer: I don't own WK or any of the boys. Though maybe if we fangirls take up a collection, we can buy the rights and give them all to Moonraven and Krysana (after we've had some fun, of course) so they can make Gluhen nothing but a bad dream like Ken's and replace it with a much slashier series…

Special thanks to everyone who has been so patient with my slow (or, more accurately, complete lack of) email response. You guys know I love you, right?

Responses to reviewers at the end of the chapter, as always.

Gerechtigkeit für die Toten

Chapter 4

by Xellas

Ken followed Omi across the campus green, his eyes carefully drawn down to his feet, desperately wishing he owned a pair of sunglasses or had thought to snag one from Youji. The morning sunlight was too bright for his overtired eyes. As the result, he now had a pounding headache that would probably have bothered him a great deal more if he weren't too numb with exhaustion and self-recrimination to really feel it.

A young man passed by them, calling out to his friends and waving. The athlete flinched; the sudden loud noise so close to his ear was even harder to deal with than the sunlight. He raised his eyes to shoot an irritated glare at the offender. Looking up turned out to be a big mistake; almost immediately, he was overwhelmed, unable to keep up with the sudden influx of stimuli that was the norm for a busy campus in between class periods.

Omi attended a relatively small, prestigious University that prided itself on being modeled after a Western school and boasted the highest exchange student population in all of Japan. Hundreds of students filled the area, each of them standing out distinctly in Ken's mind, their mixture of races and styles a testament to the stunning diversity of human life. A short, particularly cute Asian girl passed by with her friends, pausing in her conversation long enough to turn and smile at the assassins. Ken noticed with a start that her eyes were large, rounder than normal for her race, and very light blue.

One of her friends, tall and slightly reminiscent of Sweden and the Alps, noticed his staring and looked him over carefully before turning to her friend and whispering, giggling. The blonde glanced back at him mockingly through a pair of icy blue eyes that would have seemed normal enough had they not been identical to her counterpart's. A distant relative, maybe?

A dim buzz began to sound in the back of his head as Ken picked other faces out of the crowd, one after the other, faster and faster as the noise in his head intensified. A black man with dreadlocks, a young-looking student who could have been Omi's cousin, a slightly plump redheaded woman across the green - no matter whom the athlete turned his gaze upon, every single one of them stopped immediately as though sensing the weight of his stare to glare emotionlessly at him through the same crystal blue eyes. Hundreds of people, but only one pair of accusing eyes, seeing him from every angle, seeing right through him.

The soccer coach blinked, and suddenly everything was normal again, the students full of laughter and sunshine.

Ken began to shake uncontrollably. Barely aware of what he was doing, he wobbled off the walkway onto an unoccupied bench.

"Ken-kun! Ken-kun!? Are you OK? Are you still feeling ill? Maybe we should get you home."

"I - I'm fine." The athlete managed to stammer. He knew Omi would know it for the lie it was, but he also knew that more than anything, Omi needed answers if he was to keep control as Persia.

As expected, the college student allowed himself to be persuaded. "We'll rest for a few minutes…but if you're not feeling better, we're going home and no arguments."

Ken smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner and tried to collect himself. An idea suddenly struck him and for the first time it occurred to him that maybe he wasn't going crazy. Wasn't this just the type of thing that really got Mastermind off? Driving people out of their minds? And Berserker was capable of everything that had been done to Gewissenhaft's corpse and more. Perhaps Schwarz had somehow discovered Omi's promotion and were trying to ruin Krikiter!

Feeling better than he'd felt in days, Ken scanned the crowd. It was widely believed throughout Krikiter that Schuldig needed to be within relatively short range of his intended victim to pull off the kind of stunts Siberian had experienced.

In the end, Ken did find a familiar face, but it was not the one he had sought. In fact, the athlete wouldn't have recognized Youji in a million years if it weren't for a certain characteristic gesture the eldest assassin had of trying to push back sunglasses he wasn't even wearing.

Only a few meters from the bench he and Omi sat upon, the tall man stood atop a similar seat, whistling loudly and catcalling, as the male swim team happened to pass by. When the athletes continued without stopping, Youji playfully snapped pictures of their gym suit-covered backsides. And if there were any lingering doubts about which sexual orientation the undercover assassin was portraying, his bright pink hair and expertly applied glittery makeup would quickly settle them.

"What the HELL does he think he's doing?" Ken muttered, springing to his feet. He grabbed Omi roughly by the arm and began dragging him to their spectacle of a teammate.

"Ken-kun, did you see something? Where are we go - " Omi's question stopped abruptly as he and Ken reached Youji's bench. A small crowd was already forming around the flaming photographer, laughing with his exaggerated antics.

Omi abruptly pulled his arm from his friend's grasp. Ken turned, took one look at a seething Bombay, and began backing away steadily. Youji was in big, big trouble. Desperately, Ken tried to come up with a plan, a distraction, *anything* that would rescue the oldest Weiss before it was too late.

The young assassin pushed through the crowd, heedless of the many angry looks thrown at him, until he was standing at the foot of the bench. The soccer coach circled around warily, looking for a spot where he could clearly see both of his teammate's faces, but still be safely outside Ground Zero. To his surprise, the anger he'd expected to see on the smaller man's face was now clearly tempered by a healthy dose of amusement.

"…like I was saying, it's been so much *better* since I came out of the closet, darlings. I mean, you have no idea what it's like…" Youji was saying through a lisp so thick as to be completely unbelievable to one of his female admirers, who despite his obvious unavailability still seemed very enthralled with the lithe young man.

Surreptitiously, Ken pinched himself just to make sure that this wasn't yet another strange dream. He was pulled from his reverie when Youji interrupted his own monologue, his voice going up an impossible few octaves.

"Oh, my GAWD IN HEAVEN!!! Where have you been hiding all my life, Sugar? Let's go find someplace the two of us can be alone together. What's your sign, baby?"

Obviously, Youji had seen Omi.

Firmly, Ken reminded himself that after the previous evening's events, he was not going to pass judgment on the playboy any longer. And now that he was no longer focused on trying to separate the two, he noticed that the last traces of irritation had vanished from the younger man's face. The blue-eyed genki college student was grinning from ear to ear as he offered a hand to help the glitter-covered assassin down from his perch.

How blind had he been? Omi was a man, just like the rest of them, with the same wants and needs. Youji's words from the night before returned in startling clarity. The soccer coach watched the two together, talking seriously, no doubt exchanging secret information about Weiss' business under cover of flirtation. No, that wasn't quite right - it was clearly as an excuse for flirtation.

And there wasn't anything wrong with that at all. They were adults; they were professionals and more than capable of taking care of their own business without his interference. Not to mention that the gentle way Youji held Omi's hand *did* make Ken just the slightest bit jealous. This was not one of the playboy's casual crushes, but something much deeper.

"Good luck, guys." Ken murmured quietly. He waited patiently for the two to finish and gave Omi a bright smile upon his return.

Bombay was shaking with suppressed laughter. "That idiot - he's posing as a reporter/photographer for the campus gay newspaper. And he's supposed to be our expert in stealth?" The laughter couldn't be contained any longer, it bubbled to the surface. Its sound was refreshing and healing to the soccer player, who hadn't heard anything like it since the entire mess had begun.

"Well, he did promise Aya-kun he wouldn't flirt with any girls." Ken reminded his teammate with a grin. He wasn't up to laughing out loud just yet, but with luck he might be soon.

He was just opening his mouth to present his theory about Schwarz' possible involvement to Omi when Bombay glanced down at his watch and uttered an uncharacteristic curse.

"Damn! We're going to be late for the next lecture!"

Without another word, Omi took off running. Ken followed, still smiling. His theory would have to wait.

* * * * *

Ken struggled to hold back a yawn, his eyes tearing from the effort. This was the fourth Psychology lecture he and Omi had monitored that day. Every agonizing minute was another reminder of how much he'd hated school in his other lifetime, before Weiss, back when he'd been a promising young soccer star who had spent most of his time in class staring out the window and contemplating his strategy for the next game. Back then, even the largest classroom had been far too confining.

A glare from Omi, who had noticed his lack of attention, caused him to guiltily try to re-focus. There had been seven Professors in the Department, now down to six, and none of the first three had seemed at all likely to have been involved in the horrible crimes which had gone on for at least two years. Two of them were very recent additions to the University, only in their first year of teaching, and had gone to school elsewhere. It was still possible that a connection between either of them and Gewissenhaft had existed previously; it would be Aya's job to uncover such an unlikely link. The third had been a very pregnant woman and while that didn't automatically rule her out, Ken had met enough soccer Moms while coaching to realize that it would be a rare pregnant woman indeed who would have the stomach necessary to do to a corpse what had been done to the professor. Not to mention the difficulties involved with hauling around the dead weight of a full-grown man.

Fortunately, their classrooms had been noisy, uncontrolled places and Ken and Omi had been able to spend a good portion of their time talking with the students.

The current lecturer, Professor Molly Gretchen, not only kept her lecture hall quiet enough to hear a pin drop, but had much more potential as an accomplice to murder. She was a 40-something busty Irish redhead who could easily have passed for Manx' older sister or mother. Her area of expertise lay in abnormal psychology. Ken did not have a great deal of patience for this particular subject. People like Gretchen wasted too much time trying to study the very dark beasts Weiss eliminated. It was their mission to prove that there was no such thing as real evil in the world: only bad childhoods, diseases and chemical imbalances. The fiery teacher was unusually passionate about her subject and Ken could picture her asking questions of, even encouraging, a psychopath in her quest for answers all too easily.

The athlete snatched himself back from the brink of a light snooze. He could NOT fall asleep here! Thinking back to his own student days had reminded him of the only acceptable, if temporary, escape from a stuffy classroom. He expertly mimicked the slightly embarrassed face of one forced to answer nature's call as he made his way to freedom.

Finally being able to move around freely woke Ken up considerably. Acting on the premise that it wasn't cheating if he actually *did* use the facilities, he found a restroom.

As it happened, he emerged from the lavatory at the same time a redheaded janitor exited a nearby broom closet, pushing a cart of cleaning supplies. The two stopped for the briefest of moments, sharing a veiled glance of hidden familiarity, which ended abruptly when Ken couldn't hold back a grin.

Damn if Aya couldn't even make gray coveralls look hot! Their neutrality emphasized his spectacular coloring and the fit was perfect to set off the beautiful proportions of his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Quickly, Ken calmed himself. He was just exhausted enough to say the wrong thing and end up skewered in the broom closet, another mess for the next janitor that happened by to come and clean.

Still, Youji and Omi had managed to talk business while undercover… Seizing the opportunity, Ken nodded abruptly and set off briskly - straight into Aya's cart of supplies, artistically landing flat on his ass and sending bottles of various cleaning agents rolling everywhere.

"I'm so sorry!" The athlete exclaimed.

Aya grunted as he leaned over to offer his intentionally clumsy teammate a hand. Ken was almost afraid to accept, wondering if the other man would understand and agree with his ploy.

To his relief, there was a glimmer of amusement in violet eyes as the strong arm easily pulled him to a standing position.

"Let me help you pick all of this up." Fortunately, Ken's blush could easily be attributed to embarrassment over the "accident".

"Thank you." Aya said quietly.

The two knelt side by side and began to recover the stray items.

"Find anything?" The team leader whispered into Ken's ear while reaching for a rag. The low voice sent a shiver down the brown-haired man's spine and suddenly, he had never felt more awake.

"Not much on the professors. But we did get a student's name. Iris Anderson was in Gewissenhaft's inner circle." The ONLY student left alive from the dead professor's core group, Ken wanted to add, but there was only so much one had time to convey while picking up a bottle of bleach.

"Professor Mowang lost funding for his pet project to Gewissenhaft five years ago. Am investigating." Aya's soft reply came as the swordsman reached for the last item.

Interesting. Mowang was scheduled to teach their next class; Ken would make sure to pay extra attention.

His cart full and organized, the janitor bowed briefly and left.

Ken smiled the entire way back to class.

* * * * *

A mere 20 minutes after he returned to the lecture, the high he'd gotten from talking to Aya had faded and Ken found himself succumbing to sheer exhaustion. Four times his head had jerked downward sharply, only to have the sudden movement spring him awake. He shifted around in an attempt to find the most uncomfortable position possible. This wasn't at all difficult; whatever student tuitions were paying for, it certainly wasn't comfortable seating. The fifth time this happened he realized, looking around, that the classroom was empty.

Torn between relief at having finally managed a dreamless sleep and panic because Omi had left him behind, he stood to exit the room. Rubbing his eyes, he entered the hallway and was surprised to find it also empty. How long had he been out? Weiss should have come for him by now, obviously, something was very wrong. The doors on either side of the corridor all stood closed, the rooms behind them darkened, everything to all appearances shut down for the evening. A few high windows confirmed that it was, in fact, dark outside.

He reached to his belt for his cell phone, intent on calling his teammates, or even Birman or Manx if need be, to find out what was going on. Again, he was denied when an ugly little symbol had appeared on the phone's display, confirming that no signal could get in or out of the building. One would think an organization like Krikiter would provide technology that worked a bit better than that, but as Omi had begun reminding them frequently (and quite irritatingly), Krikiter had a budget to consider, just like any other organization.

Sighing, he began walking to the stairs, looking for an exit. He turned a corner and found that one of the offices had been left open and a light was shining brightly inside. Perfect - he could use the phone in there and without having to wander around the grounds by himself.

He entered the office and was surprised to find it empty. There was a phone, sitting primly atop a pristinely organized desk, its old-fashioned rotary styling and bright brass trim looking very out of place in an area otherwise untroubled by the personal tastes of its occupant.

Ken sat in the chair, knowing it would be difficult to explain such an action if the owner of the room reappeared, but somehow unable to stop himself. He next meant to reach for the phone, truly he did, but instead found himself pulling open the desk drawers, searching frantically for something, absent-mindedly pocketing a shining silver key he found in one of them.

It wasn't until he'd opened the last drawer and pushed aside a stack of term papers that he understood. Tangled together in lewd plastic embraces, Barbie and Ken dolls stared at him, frozen and completely unembarrassed in their perversion. Their faces and in some cases their hair had been painted over or cut, and the few that wore any clothes at all were dressed as miniature copies of the life-sized inhabitants of the late Professor's dollhouse.

Not wanting to alert the dead man's accomplice, he quickly returned the papers and ran from the little room to tell his teammates he'd found the answers. He ran for the stairs but he didn't get very far before hitting an unseen barrier at full force, sending him flying backward. He hit his head sharply, and everything swam out of focus.

"Ken! Ken! Someone, call a doctor…" The athlete heard Omi's voice and forced his eyes open. The blue-eyed student was hovering above him anxiously, which he expected, but was surrounded by at least six other students, which he had not expected.

"I couldn't get out of the way in time, he just ran into me! He looked like he'd seen a ghost or something." A concerned, slightly accented masculine voice said from somewhere near Ken's legs.

"D-don't bother, I'm OK." Ken managed to stammer out. He winced as the pain in the back of his head stabbed him with each word.

"We should still get a doctor." A young woman said sharply to Omi, who looked as if he was considering her suggestion carefully.

"I will. He's my cousin, I'll take him to our family doctor." Bombay replied, his voice firm. "He'll be alright everyone, you can go now - thanks!"

Ken groaned, and it wasn't from the pain. He knew what kind of "family doctor" his friend had in mind.

Slowly, the assembled group of mostly concerned and somewhat curious students was persuaded to leave the assassins alone.

"N-not me. Schwarz. It's Mastermind…in my head…" Ken struggled to explain his suspicions to his teammate.

"Ken-kun, Schuldig is in Germany right now. We keep a continuous watch on all members of Schwarz. So, you can't possibly have seen him. It must have been a dream. Can you get up?" Omi asked gently.

Ken considered briefly before agreeing. To his relief, he seemed to be mostly uninjured after his…after whatever had just happened.

"No buts, no excuses. We're going home now and tomorrow we're taking you to a doctor." It was Persia talking this time. If this was the kind of leader now holding the reigns of Krikiter, the organization had little to fear from anyone.

* * * * *

The pair returned to the Koneko a few hours before Youji and Aya were expected back. Omi forced Ken to lie quietly in his bed, after reassuring the athlete that he would come once an hour to wake him, in case of a concussion.

This time, Ken knew he was dreaming as he sliced delicately into the pale silken skin of the corpse, taking great care not to cut into the muscle underneath. He had loved this skin - or wanted to love it, dreamed of loving it - and as upsetting as his current occupation was, it was nowhere near as stomach churning as the thought of damaging that perfect, perfect hide. A single warm drop of wetness rolled down his cheek and he could not have said if it was sweat, blood or a tear, or a mixture of all three. Possibly, he could figure it out later, when the gleaming red blade of his surgical knife was once again silver and shining, pure.

At last, it was ready. Ken stepped back for a moment to admire his work. Aya's body was hanging upside down, suspended from a thin steel bar carefully placed between the two bones of his lower legs. The support was a necessary evil; it would leave small marks on the finished product, but would help ensure the perfection of the rest of the hide. Precise incisions circled the corpse's legs, just below the bar. Matching cuts circled the dead assassin's wrists and using weighted string, Ken had managed to carve a perfectly straight line on each side from wrist to ankle.

Starting from the left leg, the athlete took a firm grip on the cooling skin and began to peel it down, a nervous inch at a time. Eventually, the raw, wet, red tissue of muscle and the gleaming white of bone were exposed from the ankle to mid-back, just past the point where a vibrant mass of red hair had fallen only a few hours previously.

He stopped for a moment to admire the intricacy that was the human body in general and this human body in particular. He remembered fondly the way all those beautiful striped tissues had expanded and contracted in perfect harmony and grace. Lovingly, heedless of the tacky drying blood that adhered to his fingertips, he stroked their long, naked lines. He licked his lips, leaning in to pay his respects with a kiss before it became sadly necessary to throw all of these unsalvageable yet so perfect pieces into the trash with the rest of humanity's waste. Perhaps he'd burn them instead. Ashes to ashes, wasn't that how it was supposed to work?

Some semblance of sanity returned to Ken the second his lips touched the lukewarm, sticky flesh. He fought the dream, channeled every bit of the stubbornness that had caused so much trouble in his life into clawing his way back to reality. The dream fought back, playing without pause in his mind like a gruesome movie, not particularly enjoyable to watch but somehow impossible to look away from.

He was not quite sure whether he had succeeded or failed in waking when he opened his eyes and saw that his insubstantial tormentor had returned. Gewissenhaft stood, too motionless to be mistaken for anything living, at the foot of his bed. Something about his stance played at the front of Ken's mind, sending his few coherent thoughts racing, chasing after the elusive connection while the larger part of him gibbered in wordless terror. The athlete had been allowed to wake up; somehow, he knew it for a certainty, though he did not know why.

And in the end, it was the terrified ramblings of his scattered thoughts that led him to the answer: he had been tricked into waking up to the exact scene that had signaled the end of Gewissenhaft's life. The specter's posture and the grim look on his face were identical to Ken's a few moments before he had committed murder.

"You want to kill me now? Quit messing around and fucking just do it!" Ken shouted into the cold and darkened room, overwhelmed by the impact of finally understanding that he was being forced to live his final moments as his victim had.

Gewissenhaft finally moved. A mocking, puppet-like imitation of Ken's approach, moving, too fast, then too slow, sometimes stopping altogether, but always inescapably closer to the immobile assassin.

A kind of peace descended upon Ken as the ghost closed in. Even though he was disgusted with himself for giving up so easily, he wouldn't need to be disgusted for long. He held himself with as much dignity as possible, sitting up in the bed and staring unflinchingly into pale blue eyes that were the only hint of color in the washed out figure. Only two steps remained, then one, then…

A sudden loud bang interrupted the scene as the athlete's door was suddenly thrown open. Ken's gaze escaped his victim's, fleeing to the now open doorway. He was too stunned for relief or hope or any real emotion to fill him when he saw a very, very angry Aya, eyes narrowed in the intense look he only wore when a matter was personal.

The redhead made a fluent, graceful motion, almost too quickly to follow from across the room. The next thing Ken knew, Gewissenhaft had vanished and Aya's precious katana sounded a long, clear note as it quivered within the space the ghost had occupied, buried several inches into Ken's bedroom wall.

There was no doubt. Aya had…Aya had seen the ghost! This whole time, that *thing* had been real? He wasn't insane? Shock and relief flooded Ken. He wanted to run around and cheer. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hug Aya as tightly as he possibly could. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do and so ended up staying motionless on his bed.

"How - How did you?" How had the redhead known Ken was in trouble? It wasn't his biggest question, only the first that sprang to mind.

As calmly as always, the slender man entered the room and retrieved his sword.

"I heard you shouting." Came the reply. "I felt something strange, so I stopped for my weapon on the way."

After carefully ascertaining that there was no damage to his sword, Aya sat down on the bed beside his hopelessly confused teammate and gave him a small, patient almost-smile.

"Now, Ken, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

* * * * * * *

~End Chapter 4

To Be Continued…

AN: I never said *no one* could see the ghost! Actually, I've been very careful to never have Aya and Gewissenhaft in the same room. *LOL* ^__^ Explanations for Aya's ability will follow next chapter. Things will lighten up a little…for awhile anyway!

HeeroDuo4eva: Glad you're enjoying WK fics - the pretty boys are just so much fun, aren't they? Though personally, I'd never say no to a good Youji/Ran, Schuldig/Ran or of course Ran/Ken fic. ^__~

Krysana: Well the boys finally got a little more screen time together! ^__^ And I'm not sure if that rescue was what you had in mind, but I hope you're not disappointed. I know you're not a big horror fan, but things should ease up a bit for a little while… *Hugs!*

methodic madness: Glad you like the dream sequences…I think the one with Omi was scary in a very different way from the others, so it makes sense that it impacts people differently. Hope you enjoyed these as well!

Celeste1: Yeah, I've been horribly mean to Ken-kun. But hopefully I'll get to start making it up to him soon (although they're not out of the woods yet by a long stretch)…

Moonraven: Thanks SO much - that scene with Aya the janitor would never have happened without you, and it ended up working SO much better than the way I'd originally written the chapter. Now if only I can find a way to lock them together in the broom closet for awhile…

Fire Falls: I don't know whether to apologize for scaring you or to be insanely proud that I did! *LOL* Can I settle for both?

Sky Rat: Hiya! How goes? I know what you mean about not being around - but it is sooo cool to come back and get fresh ficcage! Your "Watch Me As I Fade Away" story is just great!

kasugai gummie: Ack! I'm really sorry to have kept you waiting for so long! *hands over chocolate Ken* Though a few people guessed as you did, that Ken would snap, things are actually going to go a little differently…hope you like it!

Seph Lorraine: *beams brightly, all proud* Thank you!! I'm glad you are enjoying the fic - although I'm not sure what you mean by curious? If you have any suggestions, *please* let me know - I'm a sucker for constructive criticisms!! Why Ken? *LOL* Good question! For me, I think it is because he is the most "normal". I mean, seriously - how're we gonna know if Aya's going off the deep end? Isn't he already a little bit there? ROFL Sorry to have made ya wait for so long!

Space Cat: How goes? Fortunately for Ken-kun, there's Aya to make sure he doesn't go to pieces. I have no intention of quitting writing any time soon - although if things don't get better, updates probably will still be slow. And it was good to hear from you! Hope everything's going well!

Zeto: I'm half inclined to take your review and make it my summary! *LOL* You got the whole fic down in just a few words, that's so cool. ^__^ And I while make no promises concerning Ken's future, let's just say I DO have a substantial security deposit riding on this…

Aikawa Fuuko: Thanks muchly! More bishie torture, served fresh with a side of slashy goodness, coming right up!

Maxwell-chan: Thank you so much! I felt just horrible while I was writing that chapter, especially the scene with Omi…I'm very glad it touched you. Hopefully you liked this one too!

daisukeluver: I'm very glad you are enjoying the story…only, it's not turning out as you requested, so hopefully you won't be disappointed. ^__^ I will continue as quickly as my limited free-time allows…thanks for reading!!