Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Give It A Chance ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss Kreuz, nor do I make any money from the stories. This fic follows the events that occured in the OAV's and may contain spoilers for them. After that, the timeline is my own and does not follow canon.

The mission was not going well. In fact, none of the missions had gone well since Weiss’ return from Kyoto. The utter fuck up with the American military and the less than well planned conclusion had left the team in a fragile state. Physical injuries aside, emotional pains continued to plague each assassin.

Omi was still having nightmares on at least a twice weekly basis about being hunted and forced to fight the two oldest members. He had also taken to wearing long sleeved shirts with high collars to hide the faint scarring left by Yohji’s wire. Ken had given up coaching soccer for now because he couldn't dredge the slightest enthusiasm for mentoring the kids in his favorite sport. Yohji was going out way too much, much more than was good for his health or his already precarious peace of mind. He was drinking quite a bit as if he could find either forgetfulness or redemption at the bottom of a bottle. Occasionally he would turn like he wanted to say something to all of them, but his sad, green eyes would cloud and he'd leave without saying a word. All four of them sometimes went days without speaking to each other unless it was specifically concerning a mission. Not that the silence bothered Aya. He had never been one for casual conversation anyway and now anything he said would be tinged with bitter anger.

Aya had only grown more icy and forbidding to be around. He wrapped himself in a shroud of black rage contained within an emotionless shell to conceal his pain. By outward appearances Aya seemed to be the perfect assassin completely in accord with his chosen profession. He was cold, calculating and relentless on the job, never allowing anything to cross his face that might be construed as a shred of pity or remorse. The only concession he made was to kill his victims swiftly and that was to spare himself their ridiculous pleas, false bravado and slimy bribes for their lives. He would dispatch the target, sling the blood from his blade, sheathe it and be walking out unnoticed in less time than it took most people to decide what to order from a fast food restaurant. Quickly and deadly, that was Aya, and beneath that facade he hid the fact he was slowly being devoured from inside by encroaching despair.

Aya had really believed once that after his sister woke up he would be able to just put down his sword and stop. He had never thought about the "after". He had only pursued his revenge and left his sister in the care of Krittiker in the hopes she would one day open her eyes. He had never considered what he would do if he wasn't an assassin and he had certainly never wondered if Krittiker would let him go. In Aya’s mind he had always just put down the sword and walked away, end of story. When the tower fell into the sea, pitching both Schwarz and Weiss into the dark, cold waters, Aya had nearly let himself drown. He was positive that his sister, Manx and Sakura couldn't have made it out alive and he was willing to let his failure drift to the bottom of the sea. He had been sinking without a struggle when some invisible power had rushed around and through the water around him, catching him up in its momentum and hurled him forwards to land on the sand like so much flotsam. Dazed and injured, all four Weiss had washed up on the beach . Of Schwarz they saw no sign and assumed the other team, even with their strange, unearthly powers, had not survived.

Krittiker had shown little sympathy and had bundled them off like disgraced relatives with the even less believable cover of a traveling florists’ business. Bewildered by the brush off and physically unwell, all four had daily gone through the motions of setting up and trying to conduct a normal business day. It didn't matter they weren't in Tokyo anymore. A whole new mass of fan girls flocked daily to the mobile shop to coo and preen before the four pretty men, hoping for a bit more than the polite attention bestowed on every other girl. It was a part of their cover but the words said to the girls were also just lip service. The flirtation and casual conversation lacked any hint of warmth. Not even Yohji could sustain the illusion for more that a few hours at a time before needing to get away. Aya dismissed them all. He wasn't interested in their silly, adolescent adoration. No female ever traipsed the corners of his mind except his sister.

Aya silently cursed himself every day that he hadn't been faster, that he hadn't gotten to his sister before Krittiker did. Manx had whisked the girl away with assurances for Aya that the girl still needed some specialized care and could also possibly still be in danger with Schwarz unaccounted for. Aya had unthinkingly accepted that rationale and allowed himself to be hustled in another direction. It wasn't like he was financially secure, either. He didn't even have a home where his sister could live. Krittiker had taken the decision from his hands and now had him bound tighter with obligation. They would support and provide a place for his sister to live in exchange for his services. They would provide a nice home, a job and further education if she wanted it. All Aya had to do in return was spill blood at their command and lose a little bit more of his soul with each killing. Caught still in their web, Aya became more withdrawn and rarely spoke at all unless asked a direct question relating to a job and even then he might not answer it. It didn't help matters any that his teammates often sent looks of pity and understanding his way. Only Omi had the grace to look somewhat ashamed as he had been practically raised by Krittiker.

Forced to live in exceedingly close quarters for months, the members of Weiss had each inventoried in that time a vast catalogue of annoyances and grievances against each other. Tempers flared to life quite frequently and they ranged from recriminations to out right screaming matches designed to cause hurt with the barbs of words alone. Tension escalated and soon after their return to Tokyo Aya had been the first to move from the communal apartments into a tiny place of his own. It was a simple loft with a small living area and kitchen on the first floor and a sparse bedroom and bath on the second level. Working for Krittiker didn't pay tremendously well but, without his sister’s medical expenses draining him, Aya could manage to afford the little place. Although he was relieved he was free from the gloom of living day to day with his job, the crushing loneliness that enveloped him when he was home was a bit smothering.

Aya spent a lot time walking around Tokyo, usually at night and always alone. He had run into his old Crashers’ teammates and spent one evening reminiscing with Knight, but was uneasy about socializing further. Having grown from a boy to man with a secret bloody lifestyle to keep hidden, Aya was socially inept and clumsy at best with company. Such ineptness in anything was personally unacceptable and, rather than display his ignorance, Aya kept to himself.

The lack of cohesion in their personal lives had started to carry over in their professional lives. Weiss no longer functioned as a smooth unit. The trust had been, if not broken, significantly mangled and twisted. The two youngest team members couldn't go on a job without remembering when they were targets themselves, and the two eldest had reservations about whether their teammates could be trusted to watch their backs if things got ugly. It was part of the reason Aya was running for his life. A small tidbit of information about extra guards had either escaped Omi’s notice or Aya hadn't paid attention or something equally stupid. At any rate, two dozen unexpected men had shown up and the mission was totally fucked. Omi had yelled the command to abort and to rendezvous at a later time. They were supposed to maintain radio silence and somehow make their way out on their own. Easier said than done.

Aya ran as silently as possible through the hallways, searching for another staircase. The windows were not an option. They were too many stories high and last he checked he couldn't fly. Aya shook his head at himself irritably. He should really quit reading comic books. They were making him quite fanciful. Immediate concerns and a sharp report followed by a burning slice of pain forcefully jerked his mind back to the present. Oh fuck! One of the chasers had got lucky with a shot and grazed his right hip. Aya stumbled but kept running. If he stopped, he died. Of that he was damned sure. It wasn't helping any that his left flank where Ken had stabbed him was bitching about the excessive abuse and making its displeasure known by sending shocking bolts of pain through his guts.

Aya gritted his teeth and poured on another burst of speed in desperate defiance. He rounded a corner and burst through the door marked ’Roof’. He spun around and looked frantically for something to jam the door. A fair hand extended a crowbar. Without a thought Aya grabbed the bar and slammed it home. He leaned over with his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Memory smacked him hard and he lurched upright to search for his helper. Flaming red hair surrounded an elfin and impish face that smirked familiarly at him.

"Schuldig?" Aya asked faintly.

"In the gorgeous flesh, kitten. What, not happy to see me? That’s not the proper way to show gratitude." Schuldig pouted.

"Gratitude?" Aya echoed and wondered if he had the strength left to even raise his katana.

"I just helped you." Schuldig smirked. "And I think you're going to need help to get out of here."

"I don't need YOUR help," Aya snapped.

Schuldig spread his arms and looked around in exaggerated gestures.

"I don't see anyone else around. Do you?"

"Fuck you," Aya growled.

"As tempting as that sounds, kitten, I really don't think you're up for it right now."

Aya could feel the blood running down his side and he was feeling lightheaded. He tried to spin away from Schuldig and the maneuver threatened to turn into an uncontrolled dive to the roof. Strong arms grabbed him and held him loosely in an embrace. Aya stiffened and his thoughts raced. What the hell was Schuldig doing? Where was the rest of Schwarz? Was this an ambush? How the hell was he going to get away? Aya frowned to himself. Why wasn't Schuldig hurting him and why had he appeared when Aya needed help? It was probably just a game to the sadistic telepath. It had to be. Aya couldn't think of any reason for the other man to help him except to play with him later.

"What a suspicious mind you have," Schuldig commented and Aya could hear the mockery in the words.

"Get your hands off me," Aya demanded.

"Sorry, kitten. If I do that now you'll fall." Schuldig demonstrated his point by loosening his embrace and Aya’s knees immediately buckled. Schuldig hitched him up again and turned them in a different direction. "Come on. Let’s go. It won't take them long to figure out how to get up here, and I don't want to be here when the do."

Aya had no choice but to allow his former enemy to direct him towards another, hidden, access door and guide him down the steps. Blood was starting to seep through his clothes and stain Schuldig’s where the telepath’s body brushed against his. Both of their clothes were probably being ruined. Too bad it wasn't that hideous green blazer, Aya’s disjointed thoughts grumbled. Schuldig sniffed at the implied affront to his style and didn't deign to reply. They made it down and outside without further incident. Schuldig effortlessly picked the location of Aya’s car from his groggy mind and they headed in that direction. Aya roused briefly when he felt someone digging through his pockets for his keys and he tried to bat the hands away.

"Easy, easy. I've got to get us out of here." Aya looked up at the nasal voice and had a blurry impression of amused blue eyes. "Where do you live?"

Aya unconsciously flinched at the mention of his lonely apartment where no one would be available to help patch his wounds. Schuldig sighed when Aya didn't reply and got the address with a little digging. Aya glared at him angrily for the invasion and would have struck the bastard if his body hadn't turned total traitor against him and chose to fold in on itself. When his eyes cracked open the passenger door to his car was open and the damned telepath was still there leaning in to gather him up.

"I can walk by himself," Aya said in a huff.

"I know that, kitten, probably since you were two, but you still need a little help. Just put your arm around my neck so we can make it to the lift."

Becoming more incensed by the minute, Aya threw his arm around Schuldig’s neck and entertained some pretty thoughts of throttling the pesty man in the hopes Schuldig would pick up on them. Apparently he did and all Aya got in return was a smirk. Nothing short of violence was going to get the point across that he didn't need or want Schuldig’s help. Aya bunched up a fist and aimed for the gut. His pitifully weak shot just bounced off the other man’s smooth stomach. He didn't even grunt in reaction. Glittering blue eyes looked at him maliciously as he was dragged into the lift.

"What an ungrateful little shit you are, Aya. So that’s how you want to play the game?"

Aya felt a bare moment of triumph in finally getting Schuldig to admit it was all a game before he was struck a few inches above the old bugnuk slash and the world spun around and his vision danced with colored lightning. Aya retched and wheezed and clung to the taller man just to keep from falling to the floor. The lift stopped at the top floor and Schuldig strode out pulling after him the injured assassin. Aya followed behind, boiling with anger, and only upright because of the firm grip on his arm.

Schuldig spent a few minutes figuring out the multiple locks on the door, all the while muttering about paranoia and overkill. Aya didn't have the energy by this time to tell him to shut up. The last lock turned and Schuldig palmed the lights on to reveal the sparse and spartanly furnished living space.

"What are you, a monk?" Schuldig asked snidely and maneuvered his burden onto the hard as rock futon couch.

"If it offends your sensibilities so badly, then you can walk right back out the door," Aya struggled to project his voice authoritatively. It didn't work. He came across as weak and cranky.

"And deprive you of my scintillating company, kitten? No TV. No stereo. You don't entertain much, do you?"

Aya scowled at the reminder of his solitude. "I don't like company."

"Guess not."

"Look," Aya tried again. "You've got me back to my apartment. Now you can tell Crawford and the rest of Schwarz where I live and I'll be forced to move. So go away now. Mission accomplished."

"You're still bleeding, kitten," Schuldig pointed out in a perfectly reasonable tone.

"Bullet wounds tend to do that. I'm sure you're familiar with the experience. You had me shot yourself."

"All in the past, kitten. It was never anything personal, you know. We had to keep up appearances until the elders were killed."

"Whatever," Aya sighed wearily, exhaustion and blood loss starting to make him dizzy again. "Can you just leave now?"

"I'll leave when I'm sure you're not going to expire when I go."

"Why?" Aya asked.

"It will be kinda hard to get to know you if you kicked off during the night."

"Why?" Aya asked again.

"You could easily bleed to death." Schuldig spoke each word slowly as if to a small child. He surmised Aya must have taken a blow to the head as well.

"No, jackass!" Aya yelled. "Why in the hell would you want to get to know me? We're enemies. We hate each other. We've tried to kill each other." Aya watched Schuldig start rummaging through his kitchen cabinets. "What the hell are you doing now?!"

"I'm looking for a first aid kit of some sort, kitten. Surely an assassin keeps himself stocked with a decent one."

Aya tried to burn Schuldig to a crisp with the strength of his glare alone. How dare the damned telepath interfere in his mission, drive his car and invite himself into his home! Now he was pawing through Aya’s meager belongings making pithy comments about everything he saw. Aya snarled low in his throat. Obviously he was going to be forced to play along for any hope Schuldig would go away and leave him alone.

"It’s in the bathroom cabinet upstairs," Aya snapped.

Schuldig flashed him a brilliant smile, showing small, pretty white teeth, and trotted up the circular stairs to the loft. Aya was surprised not to hear more disparaging remarks about his sleeping place and modest bathroom float downstairs on the air. He threw one arm over his eyes, wincing over how the movement pulled his injuries, and tried to get into a more comfortable position on the futon. Soft footsteps and a whiff of some darkly compelling cologne announced the return of the telepath. Aya kept his arm over his eyes until he felt cool, smooth fingers unfastening his pants and raising his shirt. He bolted up and shoved at the offending hands, startling Schuldig into sitting on the floor with a thump and staring at him in exasperation.

"I'm not going to molest you, Aya, not unless you want me to."

Aya rolled his eyes and narrowed them in another pointed glare.

"Just help me, but don't touch me. I don't like it."

Schuldig heard the unspoken thoughts that Aya wasn't used to being touched by anyone in a gentle way and it unnerved him more than if Schuldig were to hit him. He shrugged his shoulders and assisted as much as Aya would allow. He watched with some amusement as Aya’s face started to burn with embarrassment as he needed to wiggle from his pants to get to the hip wound. Keeping a straight face Schuldig casually pulled the throw from the back of the futon and covered the other assassin’s bare legs before helping to get the hip disinfected and bandaged. Aya bit his lower lip bloody to keep from making a sound when the disinfectant burned like fire on his abused flesh. He was breathing hard and sweating before he was finished and could spare the concentration to look at the barely healed bugnuk puncture. It was an angry red and throbbed.

Schuldig frowned at the injury. He caught a flash from Aya that Ken had inflicted the injury but he couldn't read anything further. Aya was guarding that bit of information like a festering wound. Schuldig snorted aloud bringing Aya’s attention back to him. However the red head had gotten the injury it wasn't being allowed to heal and was possibly infected. Was Abyssinian trying to die by neglecting himself? Schuldig took two bottles from the kit, one of antibiotics, one of pain killers, and shook them meaningfully in Aya’s face. He retrieved a glass of water from the tiny kitchen and watched like disapproving mother until Aya had swallowed all the pills. Aya took the medications and lay back on the futon to stare at Schuldig with glassy eyes.

Aya was thinking that Schuldig was being decent company even if it was only one of his mind-fuck games. He hazily observed the telepath and noted that he seemed thinner and his face more pinched. The orange hair was longer and wilder, barely contained by a garish headband. The ridiculous sunglasses were absent and Schuldig wasn't smirking as he watched Aya watching him. It made him look younger and softer, but Aya knew what a sadistic bastard he truly was and not to be trusted at all. Schuldig looked away and gave Aya a fine view of his profile with his straight elegant nose and delicate high cheekbones. His lips were pursed ever so lightly in a pout. Aya wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Oh stop it," Aya said. "The pouting chibi look doesn't work for you at all."

"I'm not pouting."

"The hell you're not. Not that I care but it makes you look like a two year old in tantrum."

"And you, of course, are the perfect example of maturity, I suppose?"

The dry observation almost startled a laugh from Aya. The painkillers must be kicking in if he felt like sharing a laugh with a member of Schwarz. Schuldig broke into his musings by suggesting he help Aya up the staircase so he could rest in his own bed.. Aya didn't really feel like moving now that the drugs were coursing through his bloodstream but he had to admit he had chosen one hard as hell futon for the living area. He thought longingly of his nice Western style bed up in the loft. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself in his ascetic existence and it would feel so good right now.

Schuldig followed his silent yearnings and pulled Aya to his feet and wrapped long arms around his body. They made their way to the staircase and wove up its spiral unsteadily. Aya abandoned his throw blanket and sprawled inelegantly on the top of the comforter. Schuldig smiled indulgently and wrestled the lax body around in the bed until it was straightened and snuggled under the covers. He started to straighten up when pale fingers wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength and pulled him down to eye level with Aya. The other man’s sweet breath puffed softly against his face as Aya regarded hi quizzically fro half lidded eyes.

"Why?" Aya asked again.

Schuldig kept it simple this time and knew Aya would spend some time pondering and analyzing to death the answer, looking for underlying nefarious motives and subversive plots.

"Because I find you interesting, Abyssinian, and because I want to."

Soft, gentle fingers brushed the bangs off his forehead, but Aya might have just imagined it in his wishful thinking for someone to be around to give a damn about him. Someone who knew what he was and didn't care about the deep secret he maintained. He fell into a deep exhaustion and drug induced slumber.

Schuldig sighed to himself and covered the redhead warmly, making sure to leave the bottles of pills and a bottle of water within reach. He knew he would be listening in on Aya’s thoughts from now on. They flowed against his own with a smoothness that Schuldig craved. The fall of the tower had changed both Weiss and Schwarz in many ways, some good and some bad. Some of the bad being that Brad Crawford had proved fallible. He had not foreseen how badly Schwarz would be injured in the fall of the tower. If not for Nagi’s power they wouldn't have survived at all.

Brad had been hit viciously hard in the head by falling debris and it left him partially blinded. The doctors assured him that his vision would hopefully eventually clear, but until then it left him vulnerable to his gift. With no visual point of reference to anchor him, the visions were coming non stop. The strain of struggling to interpret the present from the future was graying his hair fast. It also left him in the vilest temper Schuldig had ever witnessed from the man. Schuldig and Crawford had once had a mutually satisfying arrangement. It would be wrong to call it a relationship as that denoted a significance and an intimacy that was not present in any of their sexual encounters. The one time since the tower that Schuldig had attempted to reengage Crawford in said activities he was firmly and violently rebuffed. The bruises, especially the ones on his face, had discouraged him from ever trying again. There were plenty of other men out there who would be grateful for the attentions of the gorgeous telepath and he was determined to sample what would be offered.

That, however, did not explain his new found interest in Fujimiya. Schuldig had never before given the red head of Weiss more than a passing thought until he had felt Weiss return to Tokyo. Whatever had transpired during their road trip it had significantly changed each of them and not for the better. Aya appealed to him the most. Aya would be shocked to know that Schuldig could hear his sad and lonely everyday thought, his consuming anger at Krittiker and his growing hatred that they had him trapped in a life he despised.

"Aya, Aya," Schuldig thought wryly. "You need me and you don't even know it."

It wouldn't be easy to gain the redhead’s trust, but Schuldig did love a challenge and he felt he had made a good start tonight. Schuldig slipped Aya’s spare apartment keys off a hook in the kitchen and pocketed them without a second thought before casting a last glance upstairs where the man up there slumbered heavily, even his dreams laced with his loneliness and desolation.

Schuldig stuck his hand in his pockets and slipped out the door, making sure to secure each lock and strolled down the dark street towards his own home that he still shared with Nagi and Crawford. Farfarello was off in Austria under the care of a private physician in an effort to try to bring his peculiar madness under better control.

Crawford met him at the door, silvering hair glinting in the low light and leaning heavily on a cane, his only concession to his poor vision.

"Where have you been?" Crawford demanded.

"Out," Schuldig drawled. "Rescuing a kitten from a precarious perch."

Crawford reached out and slapped him hard. Blue eyes froze and glared icily at his leader.

"Don't let your little games interfere with what has to be, Schuldig. You wouldn't like the consequences. I've ’seen’ that Weiss is going to play a part in our future and I will not allow you to fuck it up."

Schuldig resisted the urge to raise a hand to his stinging cheek and turned his back to Crawford.

"Weiss is falling apart. Fujimiya nearly got killed tonight because they are making stupid mistakes. If I can improve things between them I don't see how you can object to my methods," Schuldig spoke over his shoulder.

"I question your motivation more. If you want an easy lay then look elsewhere," Crawford retorted.

Schuldig spun back around.

"There will be nothing easy about this, Crawford. And what do you care who I sleep with? You've made it quite clear that sex with you is not an option, that is, unless you've changed your mind."

Crawford regarded his subordinate disdainfully.

" I haven't changed my mind and you need to accept it, Schuldig. What was between us was just a matter of convenience and it’s over. Get over it."

"You're an awfully cold bastard, Crawford." Schuldig mumbled but Crawford caught it.

"Remember that and never forget that I lead Schwarz. Put the team in jeopardy with your antics and I'll eliminate you for the weakness you are."

Schuldig stomped up the stairs to his room and slammed the door. He stripped off his clothes with savage motions and stared at his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom. He wonderingly traced the whiteness and the rough texture of the scars that crisscrossed his chest and back, evidence that plummeting through a disintegrating tower and slamming into a cold sea at high speed wasn't good for a human body. Schuldig was vain enough to be grateful his handsome face was spared any injury. He stepped into his steaming shower and scrubbed obsessively at his skin, keeping the water as hot as he could stand. Ever since the dunking in the sea and the near drowning, he couldn't abide cold water at all. Stepping out and slinging a towel loosely around his hips, Schuldig flopped backwards on his bed and tried to compose himself for sleep. Out of habit he reached across the city to tap Aya’s sleeping mind. Aya was dreaming of have someone to care and ease his crushing loneliness, to soothe his despair at being trapped in the assassin business and flickering images of silky orange hair and sparkly blue eyes flitted through his dreams. Schuldig curved his lips in a genuine smile and rolled over to sleep, content that Aya might be glad to see him the next time he decided to pop in on the redhead.

Across town, Aya woke periodically from a fevered sleep and was soothed by the faint lingering smell of a familiar cologne. It and the pillow he snuggled in lieu of a real person lulled him back to sleep. His last conscious thought was that he was still confused by Schuldig’s actions but he had to admit that the evening had been an amusing break from routine despite the annoyance of getting shot. He drifted back into an easier sleep with a faint smile on his face, tightening his hold on his pillow.