Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Give It A Chance ❯ Part 2 ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: LilyMoonsAlias 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.08.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 537 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.08.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 537 | Status: Work In Progress
Aya woke up to assorted aches all over his body. When his bleary eyes focused he saw the bottle of water and the pain pills on the might stand. Shrugging off the mild question of how they got there, he popped the top and swallowed two before even considering getting out of bed. Actually, he could stay in bed all day if he wanted to. There was no cover job to go to this time around. That was a small mercy, but Krittiker hadn’t done it out of any sense of mercy. The team was just too unstable to try and pull off a convincing cover since returning to Tokyo. Aya gave a small sigh to himself. He could honestly say he didn’t miss the fan girls one bit. The way they had fluttered around, cooing and sighing in their high-pitched voices over the four florists had been nerve wracking.
Aya gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Job or no job, he was a creature of habit and couldn’t sleep past dawn no matter how late he went to bed the night before. While in the shower the night before came back to him in a rush. Shit! He had never rendezvoused with the rest of Weiss! They might very well think him dead. Scrubbing stinging shampoo from his eyes, Aya finished in a hurry and knotted a towel around his hips to pad down the hall to snatch his cell phone from the pocket of his trench coat. He flipped it open and stared at the display and frowned. There were no missed calls, no text messages. No one had called to see if he was all right. True, they had been on radio silence, but the night was over. Surely the others had made it out okay and at least spared a thought for him.
Aya hit the speed dial for Omi’s phone. After a few short rings the teenager answered with an exhausted and sleepy ‘Hai?’.
"Aya-kun? You..made it back okay?"
"I did. I’m home."
"Did you get hurt? Are you injured?"
"I’m fine," Aya said flatly. "Nothing important and nothing I can’t take care of myself."
"Good, good," Omi continued. "Yohji’s right arm got broken in a bad fall when he had to jump. It’ll be weeks before he will be any good in the field. We’ll have to be a team of three for a while."
Aya digested this information in silence. One of his teammates down and their behind the scenes leader was implying they would be taking jobs with just the three of them. It didn’t feel right to Aya and seemed an unnecessary risk.
"Is that wise, Omi?"
Omi’s voice chilled to glacier coldness. "It’s Krittiker’s decision, Aya-kun."
Aya grunted at the reminder of who pulled their strings. Of course it was their decision. Damn the danger and the consequences. If Weiss couldn’t perform, they were of no use to the organization. There was no point in pleading they were human beings who could bleed and hurt and sometimes needed recuperation time. They were simply tools, and if one tool broke it was up to the other three to take up the slack. There was also the inescapable fact that tools were replaceable when necessary.
"Aya? Are you still there? Is there anything we can do for you?"
Now, he asks, Aya thought bitterly.
"I said I was fine. I got grazed by a bullet, but it’s nothing serious. I can take care of it."
"If you’re sure, then."
"I’m sure. Make sure Kudo doesn’t drown himself in liquor while he’s sitting in his apartment alone. You think you can do that much?"
"Fine," Omi bristled at Aya’s tone and closed the connection.
Aya wearily closed the phone and went back to his bedroom to find some clothes. His selections were limited and he chose a simple button down in a pale lilac color to go with black linen pants. Gone were the plain tee shirts and jeans and the hideous orange sweater that had been the butt of too many jokes. Aya tried to blend in more, well, as much as his bright red hair and purple eyes would let him in this country of black haired, black eyed people. He probably would cause less of a stir if his features were typical European, but his face had a distinctly Japanese cast with his eyes that tilted at the corners. All in all Aya made a very attractive package and he couldn’t have cared less. To him it was just pretty window dressing to hide the darkness underneath.
Aya dressed in a hurry, his motions quick and efficient as always, even if his fingers lingered over the new bandages he had acquired last night. Feeling more in control now, Aya felt it was safe to finally think about Schuldig and why in the hell the telepath had assigned himself as guardian angel to Aya. Aya snorted. Guardian demon, more likely. Whatever. He knew now and would be more on guard than usual. Aya had no desire at all to be a pawn in Schuldig’s games. What really surprised him, other than the fact Schwarz had apparently survived, was that Weiss hadn’t heard any word from the other team until now. They must be lurking in the shadows of Tokyo. A city so huge could hide any number of unsavory elements.
Aya dismissed thoughts of the telepath from his mind and rode the lift down to the parking garage to his car. It gave him a moments irritation when he had to adjust the driver’s seat back to where he usually had it. Schuldig was a couple of inches taller and had moved the seat back. Aya imagined he could even faintly smell the dark, lingering scent of the other man’s cologne. He angrily punched the button to let the windows down and peeled out of the garage. He drove across town to another public garage and slipped from his car to walk another couple of blocks. Eventually he ended at a small outdoor café that stood across the street and at an angle to where he used to work, across from the Koneko.
It was a pilgrimage and one he made almost daily, weather and missions permitting. He would sit for an hour or two, sipping a cup of tea and watching the business at the flower shop. When he was lucky he would catch glimpses of his sister through the open doorway or blurred behind the large windows. It was close as he was allowed to get. Aya was under no illusions that his sister remained under surveillance. He didn’t want to make any unorthodox moves that might give Krittiker pause. Better to let them think their pet was being obedient to their commands.
But, damn it! She was right there. She was just that close and he couldn’t just walk across the street and let her know he was alive. He couldn’t hold her and bask in her warmth to assure himself that she was truly all right and happy. It especially pained Aya on the days when she would leave the shop early to go to the cemetery and leave three flowers on the family plot. One for each of their parents and one for…him. That was the story given to her by an agent of Krittiker, that her brother had died in the fall of the tower while rescuing her comatose body from agents of evil.
Aya stared morosely into his tea and swirled the dregs. There was no comfort and no answers for him in the leaves at the bottom of the cup. His time was up for the day. He couldn’t stay too long or raise suspicion that he was something more than a salary man having his daily break. Aya tossed some folded yen on the table and nodded to his usual server on his way down the sidewalk. That simple nod was as close as he came to human contact these days. The rest of the time he ghosted through the city on his far ranging walks. It was like there was an invisible wall between him and the teeming populace of Tokyo. No one paid much attention to him and if they did they forgot almost immediately.
Aya’s phone chirped discreetly and he flipped it open.
"Hai?"
"Three days until out next mission. Come in for a debriefing tomorrow," Omi’s dispassionate voice said.
"Fine."
Omi once again closed the connection without any pleasantries or even a goodbye. Aya was getting used to it, but he still didn’t like. Just a tool. Just an instrument of death. Not a person worthy of anything else.
Now that he was assured of having the rest of the day free, Aya mentally inventoried the contents of his pantry. There wasn’t much. It wasn’t much effort to cook for one person and some days he didn’t even bother to eat. Aya was even more slender than he had been at twenty. Because he had grown a couple of inches taller it made him look almost fragile in appearance. Aya had let his hair grow after returning to Tokyo and the dark red locks dipped below his shoulder blades when he didn’t confine it in a tight braid. Currently it lay heavy against his neck and wisped below his chin. Once in a while he had to swipe it from his eyes whenever the slight breeze would catch it.
Sighing in resignation, Aya went to the local market to stock his bare kitchen and headed for home with his groceries. He almost dropped his bags when he reached a door and found a single pink rosebud and a folded note stuck in the door jamb. Aya unlocked the various locks and put every purchase away before carefully picking up the rose and the note. The rose was lovely and perfect, just at the point of barely opening. It had a strong scent that permeated the small apartment with its sweetness. Aya turned it in his fingers and silently debated what to do with it. In the end he decided it was harmless enough and put it in a small bud vase of water.
The note was another matter. He almost wanted to just throw it in the trash unread. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, curiosity killed the cat he minded himself, and opened the heavy piece of quality paper. Calligraphed in a bold hand were the words ‘Feel better. See you soon. S.’ Aya shivered a little. Schuldig. Who else could it possibly be? Aya’s anger flared to life again. Just what was the bastard’s game? Was he trying to show that he could pop in on Aya at any time? Was this just a precursor to more dangerous games later? Aya ripped the note until it was in shreds small enough to be confetti and threw is violently in the trash. He snatched up the rosebud. It no longer looked like a sweet and innocent flower but a harbinger of the demon himself. Aya squeezed the stem and yelped a startled curse when a single thorn pierced his thumb. Throwing the rose in the trash and slamming the lid, Aya stuck his thumb in his mouth and stomped upstairs to his small bathroom.
His first aid kit was back on the shelf where it belonged and he plucked a small adhesive bandage from the contents to wrap his wounded thumb. Aya stared at his reflection in the mirror. Smooth pale skin around haunted, lonely purple eyes stared back. Was there some tag on his forehead that he couldn’t see that said, ’Go ahead, fuck me over.’?
"What does he want from me?" Aya asked his reflection then snorted derisively at himself. He needed to get a dog or a cat or something. If he was going to talk out loud it might as well be to a pet rather than his own reflection. It seemed less crazy to have a conversation with a furry animal rather than his subconscious.
Biting back a bitter laugh, Aya mused that even an animal would probably reject him as he was now. Animals could sense emotions, he had read, and any pet he chose would shy away from his dark brooding and seething anger.
There were still a good several hours of daylight left, and Aya couldn’t stand the thought of staying in his apartment another second. The small space was suddenly too small and a prison, more like a locker to store the weapon instead of a home. No, it wasn’t a home. Aya hadn’t had a home since his parents were killed. The little apartment over the Koneko had been no better than a dormitory space and his mind balked at even considering the cramped traveling van as someplace to live. When he had first leased the apartment it had provided a welcome escape from the burdensome company of his fellow assassins. He no longer had his sleep disturbed several times a week by Omi’s shrieks and subsequent muffled sobs. He didn’t have to listen to hours of unrelenting soccer games on TV, and he didn’t have to deal with Yohji lurching in drunk off his ass night after night. The relief had lasted a little over a week. Now the silence was just another reminder that he was alone. Perhaps a radio or a TV to create a little noise would help.
Aya locked his apartment and eschewed his car in favor of walking the few blocks to the public zoo. He had developed a fascination with the caged animals, especially the giant cats. In their waking hours the large cats, lions, tigers, jaguars alike, constantly paced the perimeter of their enclosures. Back and forth, endlessly patient and endlessly seeking a route to freedom. They disregarded the ever present press of humanity that came to gawk and point as if the humans were beneath their notice. They weren’t available as food or a means to escape so they weren’t important.
Aya would sit for hours watching a particularly large specimen of Black Jaguar pace back and forth before a glass viewing window. Its eyes were a deep yellow but dull with indifference due to its imprisonment. It was a magnificent creature with powerful muscles, large sharp teeth and a sleek, glossy pelt. Beautiful and deadly and it had been stolen from its home and forced to exist in a suspended state for the amusement of humans. Aya felt a strange kinship with the great cat. It was trapped with no regard for what it wanted. Aya imagined that it would one day give up its vigil and eventually accept its fate. It probably wouldn’t be long after that when the creature would die, its will to live snuffed. Aya shuddered and decided that he needed to move on to the other animal pens.
Strolling along the curving walkways, Aya observed the happy families and the self-absorbed couples that walked hand in hand with a combination of contempt and vague longing. It had been so long since someone had touched him in a manner not designed to cause hurt. There was no one to laugh with him or send teasing glances while they shared an ice cream cone. No one told provide comfort if he were hurt or afraid. His lips curved in a bittersweet smile when a little girl with a scraped knee came running to her Mommy to kiss it better. Amazing how a few kisses and a snuggle could cure the small ills of childhood.
Twilight started to paint the sky with deep purples and blues and Aya continued to walk through the city. The garish neon lights came to life to beat back the darkness and hide the cold loveliness of the stars. He stopped to have a quick dinner of noodles at a nondescript stand. It was cheap and filling and soothed the ache in his stomach. Too bad it didn’t soothe any of his other aches. The pain pills had long worn off and the bullet graze was starting to ache fiercely. Regretfully Aya retraced his wanderings to his apartment. At least this time there were no surprises waiting for him. He was almost disappointed.
Aya shook his head in denial. What was he, crazy? He didn’t need or want the attention of a sadistic assassin to be mucking up his life. He had a set routine to his days, such as it was, and didn’t need the additional worry that Schwarz might have regrouped to interfere with Weiss. He let himself in the door and didn’t see the shadow watching him from across the street.
Schuldig had been tailing Aya all day. He couldn’t believe the other assassin hadn’t noticed him. It was either professional sloppiness or a lack of concern. Schuldig was willing to bet it was the latter. Sometime during recent events Fujimiya Aya had ceased to care too much about self preservation. It made the telepath even more curious about what had happened to Weiss. He had gleaned a few bits of information from Aya’s mind that told him the White Knights were truly a mess.
Aya’s mind was a tasty, roiling mass of pain and anger. It made Schuldig lick his lips and want to tasted more. Aya had always been the most interesting kitty and now he was even more attractive to Schuldig. He had felt Aya’s crushing loneliness and despair. Despite his vehement protestations, Aya hadn’t been able to stop himself from unconsciously enjoying Schuldig’s brief touches during the bandaging. Schuldig had never met anyone so desperate for human contact and so afraid to reach out,….except for maybe himself. Schuldig was never alone, had never been absolutely alone. No telepath ever was, but there was something to be said for the touch of another person. There was no substitute for the warmth of another human being.
Schuldig tapped his lips thoughtfully. Aya needed someone. He may not realize it or was denying it, but he needed someone in his life before he cracked. Schuldig hated the thought of one of his toys self destructing. That wasn’t allowed. Only he should be allowed to break his toys when he was done with them. Crawford had already said that Weiss would play a part in the future, but he refused to say how or in what capacity. Sometimes Schuldig felt like shaking the precognitive until answers spilled from his lips instead of such annoyingly cryptic bullshit.
Hmm. Crawford might want Weiss intact, but Schuldig was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it if he were to get involved with the red kitten. He cheek was still a little swollen and off color from their argument. Bastard. Crawford knew how much Schuldig hated being struck in the face. Anything that marred his pretty face was usually killed immediately. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be applied to the Oracle and he knew it. Schuldig grimaced. Even with the elders gone he still had no real freedom. Crawford ruled Schwarz with an iron fist and had gotten extremely paranoid in the intervening months. Some of it had to do with his partial blindness. If one didn’t make enough noise to alert Crawford when entering a room he usually got whacked with that damned cane in a reflexive defense.
Whatever Schuldig decided to do Crawford would probably know before he did and punish Schuldig if he didn’t like the results. Schuldig stood in the dark outside Aya’s apartment and eavesdropped on the other man’s mind. He was treated to a replay of Aya’s envy concerning the couples he had seen at the Zoo, and the man’s sad ruminations that he would always be alone and looking for an exit from his prison like the jungle cats. Aya was slowly dying inside from neglect. He was wilting like a flower denied sunshine and water. It was a shame that such a beautiful, intelligent man felt like he was worthless except as a tool to be used. Schuldig made his decision and turned to go home. Crawford might not like it, but Schuldig was going to try and get closer to Abyssinian.
Schuldig whistled to himself merrily as he strutted jauntily through the dark streets. Getting past Aya’s natural suspicion and memories of the past was going to be the hard part. After that Schuldig was convinced it would be easy to slip past Aya’s defenses. After all, Schuldig was one damn handsome man and charming to boot. He wouldn’t even have to resort to using his gift. Who could resist such an all around attractive package?
Aya gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Job or no job, he was a creature of habit and couldn’t sleep past dawn no matter how late he went to bed the night before. While in the shower the night before came back to him in a rush. Shit! He had never rendezvoused with the rest of Weiss! They might very well think him dead. Scrubbing stinging shampoo from his eyes, Aya finished in a hurry and knotted a towel around his hips to pad down the hall to snatch his cell phone from the pocket of his trench coat. He flipped it open and stared at the display and frowned. There were no missed calls, no text messages. No one had called to see if he was all right. True, they had been on radio silence, but the night was over. Surely the others had made it out okay and at least spared a thought for him.
Aya hit the speed dial for Omi’s phone. After a few short rings the teenager answered with an exhausted and sleepy ‘Hai?’.
"Aya-kun? You..made it back okay?"
"I did. I’m home."
"Did you get hurt? Are you injured?"
"I’m fine," Aya said flatly. "Nothing important and nothing I can’t take care of myself."
"Good, good," Omi continued. "Yohji’s right arm got broken in a bad fall when he had to jump. It’ll be weeks before he will be any good in the field. We’ll have to be a team of three for a while."
Aya digested this information in silence. One of his teammates down and their behind the scenes leader was implying they would be taking jobs with just the three of them. It didn’t feel right to Aya and seemed an unnecessary risk.
"Is that wise, Omi?"
Omi’s voice chilled to glacier coldness. "It’s Krittiker’s decision, Aya-kun."
Aya grunted at the reminder of who pulled their strings. Of course it was their decision. Damn the danger and the consequences. If Weiss couldn’t perform, they were of no use to the organization. There was no point in pleading they were human beings who could bleed and hurt and sometimes needed recuperation time. They were simply tools, and if one tool broke it was up to the other three to take up the slack. There was also the inescapable fact that tools were replaceable when necessary.
"Aya? Are you still there? Is there anything we can do for you?"
Now, he asks, Aya thought bitterly.
"I said I was fine. I got grazed by a bullet, but it’s nothing serious. I can take care of it."
"If you’re sure, then."
"I’m sure. Make sure Kudo doesn’t drown himself in liquor while he’s sitting in his apartment alone. You think you can do that much?"
"Fine," Omi bristled at Aya’s tone and closed the connection.
Aya wearily closed the phone and went back to his bedroom to find some clothes. His selections were limited and he chose a simple button down in a pale lilac color to go with black linen pants. Gone were the plain tee shirts and jeans and the hideous orange sweater that had been the butt of too many jokes. Aya tried to blend in more, well, as much as his bright red hair and purple eyes would let him in this country of black haired, black eyed people. He probably would cause less of a stir if his features were typical European, but his face had a distinctly Japanese cast with his eyes that tilted at the corners. All in all Aya made a very attractive package and he couldn’t have cared less. To him it was just pretty window dressing to hide the darkness underneath.
Aya dressed in a hurry, his motions quick and efficient as always, even if his fingers lingered over the new bandages he had acquired last night. Feeling more in control now, Aya felt it was safe to finally think about Schuldig and why in the hell the telepath had assigned himself as guardian angel to Aya. Aya snorted. Guardian demon, more likely. Whatever. He knew now and would be more on guard than usual. Aya had no desire at all to be a pawn in Schuldig’s games. What really surprised him, other than the fact Schwarz had apparently survived, was that Weiss hadn’t heard any word from the other team until now. They must be lurking in the shadows of Tokyo. A city so huge could hide any number of unsavory elements.
Aya dismissed thoughts of the telepath from his mind and rode the lift down to the parking garage to his car. It gave him a moments irritation when he had to adjust the driver’s seat back to where he usually had it. Schuldig was a couple of inches taller and had moved the seat back. Aya imagined he could even faintly smell the dark, lingering scent of the other man’s cologne. He angrily punched the button to let the windows down and peeled out of the garage. He drove across town to another public garage and slipped from his car to walk another couple of blocks. Eventually he ended at a small outdoor café that stood across the street and at an angle to where he used to work, across from the Koneko.
It was a pilgrimage and one he made almost daily, weather and missions permitting. He would sit for an hour or two, sipping a cup of tea and watching the business at the flower shop. When he was lucky he would catch glimpses of his sister through the open doorway or blurred behind the large windows. It was close as he was allowed to get. Aya was under no illusions that his sister remained under surveillance. He didn’t want to make any unorthodox moves that might give Krittiker pause. Better to let them think their pet was being obedient to their commands.
But, damn it! She was right there. She was just that close and he couldn’t just walk across the street and let her know he was alive. He couldn’t hold her and bask in her warmth to assure himself that she was truly all right and happy. It especially pained Aya on the days when she would leave the shop early to go to the cemetery and leave three flowers on the family plot. One for each of their parents and one for…him. That was the story given to her by an agent of Krittiker, that her brother had died in the fall of the tower while rescuing her comatose body from agents of evil.
Aya stared morosely into his tea and swirled the dregs. There was no comfort and no answers for him in the leaves at the bottom of the cup. His time was up for the day. He couldn’t stay too long or raise suspicion that he was something more than a salary man having his daily break. Aya tossed some folded yen on the table and nodded to his usual server on his way down the sidewalk. That simple nod was as close as he came to human contact these days. The rest of the time he ghosted through the city on his far ranging walks. It was like there was an invisible wall between him and the teeming populace of Tokyo. No one paid much attention to him and if they did they forgot almost immediately.
Aya’s phone chirped discreetly and he flipped it open.
"Hai?"
"Three days until out next mission. Come in for a debriefing tomorrow," Omi’s dispassionate voice said.
"Fine."
Omi once again closed the connection without any pleasantries or even a goodbye. Aya was getting used to it, but he still didn’t like. Just a tool. Just an instrument of death. Not a person worthy of anything else.
Now that he was assured of having the rest of the day free, Aya mentally inventoried the contents of his pantry. There wasn’t much. It wasn’t much effort to cook for one person and some days he didn’t even bother to eat. Aya was even more slender than he had been at twenty. Because he had grown a couple of inches taller it made him look almost fragile in appearance. Aya had let his hair grow after returning to Tokyo and the dark red locks dipped below his shoulder blades when he didn’t confine it in a tight braid. Currently it lay heavy against his neck and wisped below his chin. Once in a while he had to swipe it from his eyes whenever the slight breeze would catch it.
Sighing in resignation, Aya went to the local market to stock his bare kitchen and headed for home with his groceries. He almost dropped his bags when he reached a door and found a single pink rosebud and a folded note stuck in the door jamb. Aya unlocked the various locks and put every purchase away before carefully picking up the rose and the note. The rose was lovely and perfect, just at the point of barely opening. It had a strong scent that permeated the small apartment with its sweetness. Aya turned it in his fingers and silently debated what to do with it. In the end he decided it was harmless enough and put it in a small bud vase of water.
The note was another matter. He almost wanted to just throw it in the trash unread. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, curiosity killed the cat he minded himself, and opened the heavy piece of quality paper. Calligraphed in a bold hand were the words ‘Feel better. See you soon. S.’ Aya shivered a little. Schuldig. Who else could it possibly be? Aya’s anger flared to life again. Just what was the bastard’s game? Was he trying to show that he could pop in on Aya at any time? Was this just a precursor to more dangerous games later? Aya ripped the note until it was in shreds small enough to be confetti and threw is violently in the trash. He snatched up the rosebud. It no longer looked like a sweet and innocent flower but a harbinger of the demon himself. Aya squeezed the stem and yelped a startled curse when a single thorn pierced his thumb. Throwing the rose in the trash and slamming the lid, Aya stuck his thumb in his mouth and stomped upstairs to his small bathroom.
His first aid kit was back on the shelf where it belonged and he plucked a small adhesive bandage from the contents to wrap his wounded thumb. Aya stared at his reflection in the mirror. Smooth pale skin around haunted, lonely purple eyes stared back. Was there some tag on his forehead that he couldn’t see that said, ’Go ahead, fuck me over.’?
"What does he want from me?" Aya asked his reflection then snorted derisively at himself. He needed to get a dog or a cat or something. If he was going to talk out loud it might as well be to a pet rather than his own reflection. It seemed less crazy to have a conversation with a furry animal rather than his subconscious.
Biting back a bitter laugh, Aya mused that even an animal would probably reject him as he was now. Animals could sense emotions, he had read, and any pet he chose would shy away from his dark brooding and seething anger.
There were still a good several hours of daylight left, and Aya couldn’t stand the thought of staying in his apartment another second. The small space was suddenly too small and a prison, more like a locker to store the weapon instead of a home. No, it wasn’t a home. Aya hadn’t had a home since his parents were killed. The little apartment over the Koneko had been no better than a dormitory space and his mind balked at even considering the cramped traveling van as someplace to live. When he had first leased the apartment it had provided a welcome escape from the burdensome company of his fellow assassins. He no longer had his sleep disturbed several times a week by Omi’s shrieks and subsequent muffled sobs. He didn’t have to listen to hours of unrelenting soccer games on TV, and he didn’t have to deal with Yohji lurching in drunk off his ass night after night. The relief had lasted a little over a week. Now the silence was just another reminder that he was alone. Perhaps a radio or a TV to create a little noise would help.
Aya locked his apartment and eschewed his car in favor of walking the few blocks to the public zoo. He had developed a fascination with the caged animals, especially the giant cats. In their waking hours the large cats, lions, tigers, jaguars alike, constantly paced the perimeter of their enclosures. Back and forth, endlessly patient and endlessly seeking a route to freedom. They disregarded the ever present press of humanity that came to gawk and point as if the humans were beneath their notice. They weren’t available as food or a means to escape so they weren’t important.
Aya would sit for hours watching a particularly large specimen of Black Jaguar pace back and forth before a glass viewing window. Its eyes were a deep yellow but dull with indifference due to its imprisonment. It was a magnificent creature with powerful muscles, large sharp teeth and a sleek, glossy pelt. Beautiful and deadly and it had been stolen from its home and forced to exist in a suspended state for the amusement of humans. Aya felt a strange kinship with the great cat. It was trapped with no regard for what it wanted. Aya imagined that it would one day give up its vigil and eventually accept its fate. It probably wouldn’t be long after that when the creature would die, its will to live snuffed. Aya shuddered and decided that he needed to move on to the other animal pens.
Strolling along the curving walkways, Aya observed the happy families and the self-absorbed couples that walked hand in hand with a combination of contempt and vague longing. It had been so long since someone had touched him in a manner not designed to cause hurt. There was no one to laugh with him or send teasing glances while they shared an ice cream cone. No one told provide comfort if he were hurt or afraid. His lips curved in a bittersweet smile when a little girl with a scraped knee came running to her Mommy to kiss it better. Amazing how a few kisses and a snuggle could cure the small ills of childhood.
Twilight started to paint the sky with deep purples and blues and Aya continued to walk through the city. The garish neon lights came to life to beat back the darkness and hide the cold loveliness of the stars. He stopped to have a quick dinner of noodles at a nondescript stand. It was cheap and filling and soothed the ache in his stomach. Too bad it didn’t soothe any of his other aches. The pain pills had long worn off and the bullet graze was starting to ache fiercely. Regretfully Aya retraced his wanderings to his apartment. At least this time there were no surprises waiting for him. He was almost disappointed.
Aya shook his head in denial. What was he, crazy? He didn’t need or want the attention of a sadistic assassin to be mucking up his life. He had a set routine to his days, such as it was, and didn’t need the additional worry that Schwarz might have regrouped to interfere with Weiss. He let himself in the door and didn’t see the shadow watching him from across the street.
Schuldig had been tailing Aya all day. He couldn’t believe the other assassin hadn’t noticed him. It was either professional sloppiness or a lack of concern. Schuldig was willing to bet it was the latter. Sometime during recent events Fujimiya Aya had ceased to care too much about self preservation. It made the telepath even more curious about what had happened to Weiss. He had gleaned a few bits of information from Aya’s mind that told him the White Knights were truly a mess.
Aya’s mind was a tasty, roiling mass of pain and anger. It made Schuldig lick his lips and want to tasted more. Aya had always been the most interesting kitty and now he was even more attractive to Schuldig. He had felt Aya’s crushing loneliness and despair. Despite his vehement protestations, Aya hadn’t been able to stop himself from unconsciously enjoying Schuldig’s brief touches during the bandaging. Schuldig had never met anyone so desperate for human contact and so afraid to reach out,….except for maybe himself. Schuldig was never alone, had never been absolutely alone. No telepath ever was, but there was something to be said for the touch of another person. There was no substitute for the warmth of another human being.
Schuldig tapped his lips thoughtfully. Aya needed someone. He may not realize it or was denying it, but he needed someone in his life before he cracked. Schuldig hated the thought of one of his toys self destructing. That wasn’t allowed. Only he should be allowed to break his toys when he was done with them. Crawford had already said that Weiss would play a part in the future, but he refused to say how or in what capacity. Sometimes Schuldig felt like shaking the precognitive until answers spilled from his lips instead of such annoyingly cryptic bullshit.
Hmm. Crawford might want Weiss intact, but Schuldig was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it if he were to get involved with the red kitten. He cheek was still a little swollen and off color from their argument. Bastard. Crawford knew how much Schuldig hated being struck in the face. Anything that marred his pretty face was usually killed immediately. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be applied to the Oracle and he knew it. Schuldig grimaced. Even with the elders gone he still had no real freedom. Crawford ruled Schwarz with an iron fist and had gotten extremely paranoid in the intervening months. Some of it had to do with his partial blindness. If one didn’t make enough noise to alert Crawford when entering a room he usually got whacked with that damned cane in a reflexive defense.
Whatever Schuldig decided to do Crawford would probably know before he did and punish Schuldig if he didn’t like the results. Schuldig stood in the dark outside Aya’s apartment and eavesdropped on the other man’s mind. He was treated to a replay of Aya’s envy concerning the couples he had seen at the Zoo, and the man’s sad ruminations that he would always be alone and looking for an exit from his prison like the jungle cats. Aya was slowly dying inside from neglect. He was wilting like a flower denied sunshine and water. It was a shame that such a beautiful, intelligent man felt like he was worthless except as a tool to be used. Schuldig made his decision and turned to go home. Crawford might not like it, but Schuldig was going to try and get closer to Abyssinian.
Schuldig whistled to himself merrily as he strutted jauntily through the dark streets. Getting past Aya’s natural suspicion and memories of the past was going to be the hard part. After that Schuldig was convinced it would be easy to slip past Aya’s defenses. After all, Schuldig was one damn handsome man and charming to boot. He wouldn’t even have to resort to using his gift. Who could resist such an all around attractive package?