Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Guilty Pleasures ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Title: Guilty Pleasures (9/9)

Author: pkabyssinian

Email: pkabyssinian@gmail.com

Rating: R

Spoilers: for Gluhen episodes 11, 12, & 13

Notes: I've taken the end of Gluhen and twisted it. I was hoping to get Schu and Aya to bang one more time but my Aya muse wanted to be all introspective and shit. It's finally finished! Hurray!!

This chapter is for my uncle Daijuro, because it's the first thing I've written since I found out that he died. Plus, I think that a lot my characterization for Schuldich comes from him. Daijuro wasn't a sadistic bastard, but he had that trickster streak in him and he loved to see the hilarity in a situation.

~*~

[Aya, 2 days previous]

I catch myself studying my students these days, wondering which one will snap next. Sena seems frayed at the edges trying to keep up in classes, with his persona, and being a member of Weiss. Kyo's death hurt him more than the rest of us, I think, but he has to learn to work past that. I know I sound harsh, but he chose this profession. And I find that I just don't care as much as I should. I make a good show of it, but it's becoming increasingly harder and harder to engage myself anymore.

Unless one counts Yohji. He still has the amazing ability to get under my skin and make my blood boil. Except now it's with anger and passion. When I saw him again, dressed neatly in a suit, I nearly forgot to breathe. Years of hiding my emotions saved me, however that only lasted until our confrontation on the roof. When did we all become so distant from each other? I'm terrified that I won't be able to predict his actions. What kind of leader am I?

Poor Asami-sensei follows me around like she's a lost puppy. In an effort to keep her from wondering about the quiet and enigmatic Fujimiya-sensei I agreed to go out with her, supposedly so we could plan the upcoming school cultural festival but she saw it as a date. I know she did and tiny pinpricks of guilt took sting at my conscience. It helped being with her, even for an afternoon. If only because I stopped wondering and worrying about both Schuldich and Yohji, my brain seems incapable of focusing on anything else.

Buying her the planner… that was just foolish impulse. It cemented the idea that it was a date and that I was someone who was approachable. It also had the added benefit of making me feel like a normal human without the weight of blood staining my hands and soul. For someone who swears that love cannot exist I tend to engender it often enough in others. I can almost hear Schuldich mocking me - 'frigid, cold Aybssinian has a heart? Surely not!'

Beyond that, it was nice living a normal life for a few stolen moments. The only strings attached were the threads of attraction that Asami so obviously felt for me. I, ignoring all the romantic overtones, was happily pretending that it was a day with Aya-chan. Maybe I've finally grown too tired to continue as a weapon for Kritiker, a thought that chills me to the marrow. What else am I? Certainly there is nothing else that they will let me be.

Instead I ignore my inner voices and continue as I always have, quiet and implacable. My façade had done more to damage the remnants of my relationship with Yohji than anything else had, perhaps I should be grateful for that. But my finely honed instincts are screaming that this is reaching its apex and that we will be done soon. The vague uneasiness that accompanies that thought is ruthlessly quelled; I refuse to consider any other options.

Then it happens, I hear a scream in my mind and I know with a dread certainty that it's Asami-sensei. Event though I know that she's not a telepath I wonder how she is broadcasting her fear and pain directly to me, my mind lunges out to try and reach her. And that is when I realize that she's not doing it, which can only mean one thing. Schuldich. Schuldich is here and is trying to warn me. My legs begin to run, I'm pushing myself as hard as I can and I feel the strain and burn in my leg and chest muscles. I reach out as Schuldich had taught me, hoping to make contact, to feel the bright shard of his mind against mine.

I arrive too late, as I knew I would. There is so much blood in the room, too much for just one person, then I notice Asami limp and lifeless. I feel a pang of sorrow; she most likely wouldn't have died if not for Weiss. Then again, she may have died in a far more gruesome manner than this, I can't afford to dwell on it and I won't. A lingering thought that I recognize as being foreign invades my conscious mind… the data is in the planner. I don't know what it means but I'll soon find out. You can bet on it.

With it's normal brutal efficiency Kritiker decodes the disk and we see the end game of this mission. Yohji is, unusually, absent from our conference and I can't believe that we would be allowed to operate like this. Persia assures us that there will be a final briefing session in 14 hours and that Yohji will be present. I wonder for a moment how he can be so sure; Yohji seems to long for oblivion, for forgetfulness. I have a sick feeling that he's hoping to fall during this mission.

"Aya, we have it on a reliable resource that a psychokinesis squad will be on the site. Can Weiss eliminate them if necessary?" Persia queries. I want to give away that I know that he knows - Schwartz. Sheer perversity keeps me from doing so, the infantile satisfaction of 'I know something that you don't want me to know.'

"Weiss will approach them with extreme prejudice, just as if they were a Z-Class. We have to assume that they were imported for Estet and we will handle the situation," I calmly tell him, my face devoid of any of my inner thoughts. The pause Persia allows to stretch out is pregnant, he is deciding whether to trust me or not. Which way will the scales tip tonight?

"Very well. Reconvene here at 1900 hours," he snaps. I stare at the television screen as it looses what little light it had and force my body not to betray myself. Rex is still watching me; she is more Persia's lap dog than Manx ever was.

"Do you think Kudou will show up?" she asks me, her voice barbed with sugary sweetness.

"I doubt he'd miss it. He knows what hand holds the leash," I tell her impassively and watch her flinch from the harshness of such a statement. She knows then, she knows how close we all were.

"Until then," she murmurs and gracefully flees. It's petty to treat her so, but I can't seem to help myself some days. Force of habit I imagine, the need to show that I chafe at being nothing more than a murderer.

I train for a few hours before resting. As the time draws near I gather my mission gear and dress, it almost feels like I'll be doing this for the last time. I ponder my reflection in the mirror for a moment and then an urge seizes me. I unsheathe my katana and let it's keen edge sheer off the heavy length of my hair. My head suddenly feels pounds lighter as the dark auburn strands float to rest at my feet. Let my teammates believe that this act is one of grief. I know better. It's an outward act of homecoming, all that I can offer to Schuldich. He'll understand, I'm sure.

As I enter the small basement room for our briefing I hear a muffled gasp as all eyes turn toward me. I return each shocked stare steadily, allowing nothing to hint at the fact that I am aware of why they scrutinize me. It feels good to shock them all. I have been playing a role for so long they have forgotten what I used to be. I am no kindly father figure for the team, no wise and generous leader.

Persia shocks us all by appearing in person and blindly informing us that this is Tsukiyono Omi's last mission. A weight of dread drops onto my heart, it is inexplicable but I somehow know that this night will end badly for the remnants of old Weiss. I turn my head away so they, mainly Omi, can't see my eyes. I know that Persia has a waiting list of potential candidates to replace us all. At one time that knowledge stung me to the core, now I simply see the validity of the need.

"For the rest of our lives, we will never meet again," Omi tells us, his voice hitching, making him sound young again. "As long as I live, I'll never let the Takatori family come after you."

Yohji is all bitter sarcasm and for once Ken is quiet and calm. Almost like the Ken-Ken from long ago. I see a ghost, an echo, of that boy; the one who would quake before a mission and puke in disgust afterward. Somehow, when we weren't looking, he metamorphosed into this creature with blank eyes and a berserker bloodlust. How we've all changed.

We have our orders, and Omi's promise that the Takatori family will grant us peace after this. I don't believe a word of it… if anything they will find a covert way of disposing of us, their unwanted evidence. Weiss heads into the night, to what I believe will be our final mission.

The school looks different in the deserted darkness. Cold moonlight casts a bluish pall over the buildings and the shadows are deeper. It would be so easy for an ambush to hide in the deceptive lighting of the campus. I walk forward with false courage, waiting for the attack, Weiss fans around me, flanking me, and this feels like a restoration of our old selves. Why is the past dogging my steps so strongly this night?

I don't have long to wait, gathered by the main entrance is Shimojima with 14 Z-Class students. I think I should be honored that the 5 remaining members of Weiss are considered so dangerous that this many of their elite are needed to take us down. The children leap to attack like trained dogs and we work flawlessly as a team to eliminate them. My conscious is quiet, even though I recognize several faces as old students. When Weiss is together like this even their superhuman speed and strength aren't enough to give these wayward children an edge; we mow them down like they are standing still.

Balinese is just a heartbeat behind the rest of us. I do my best to ignore it, although Siberian is hell-bent on chastising the blond. It's not that I don't care, it's the simple fact that I know that Balinese is hoping that this mission will be the end of him. With that knowledge like a stone in my mind, along with the awareness of how thin and hollow he seems, I find it hard to call him back from the edge of the abyss he's on. If he can only find peace in death then I don't believe that I have any right to force him to continue. I respect him too much.

Shimojima is loosing all veneer of control, he must know that he won't live out the night. Either Weiss or Estet will kill him. Ah! How quaint! He's pulled a gun. I offer him the ghost of a smile as he rants and pulls the trigger. I know that Schwartz has to be nearby, they are the ace up my sleeve. With a telekinetic and a telepath nearby I know that I am safe.

The report of the gun seems to shock the students, I watch seemingly impassive which incenses Shinojima more. My trust is validated when the bullet vibrates to a halt at least an inch from my face. My mind casts out of it's own volition, searching for Mastermind. I am more than mildly annoyed when I don't find the crispness that I associate with the German's mind. He's shielding himself from me, damn him.

Prodigy materializes out of the mist and uses his vaunted powers to end this little game. Anger seethes within me at missed chances, but I bury it and press onward. The mission is all that matters.

Yohji takes this moment to decide his own fate. He must know what we are going to face and he would rather end it with me. In a way, I'm touched. I'm not going to give him what he wants, I won't kill him. It's hard not to react to the wire around my neck but I do my best to radiate calm. It seems that the more relaxed I appear the more enraged Yohji becomes. I can feel the moth-light fluttering of Schuldich's mine against mine. How sweet, he's worried.

I scream at my dumbfounded teammates to go, finish what we've started. My voice seems to break whatever frozen hold was over them and they bolt, Omi offering me sad eyes that beg me not to harm Yohji. Obviously his time as Mamoru has caused him to forget how close Weiss is. How much we value and protect our own. It makes me despise the part of him that is Takatori a little more. Disgust curls in the back of my throat, I remember a time when no one could hate the blue eyed chibi.

With an elegant sweep of my sword, I sever Yohji's wire. Nothing more, no retaliation. It makes something deep in him break; I can see that in his eyes. He'll never forgive me. That hurts. Schuldich is trembling with anger and bile in the back of my head, he can't believe that I am going to allow this trespass from Yohji.

With a look that conveys more than words ever could Yohji and I break into a run and part ways. I strangle the little voice in me that wants to call him back, try to mend the breach between us. I know that it's futile, strangely that idea hurts me as well.

With a bone-jarring tremble I feel and hear the top of the building explode. An image plants itself in my mind's eye of Prodigy obliterating Layla with lightening. Shit, there is a Psycho Squad here; they've been sent to protect the Palace of Sheol. At least there will only be two remaining unless Rozenkreuz has changed their standard m.o. with these sorts of teams. I hope not.

I continue to run like Theseus in the labyrinth, towards the center of the building searching for my minotaur. Once there I should find Epitaph and I can kill it. A thin school door bars my way and I kick it open, expecting to find Epitaph surrounded by bodyguards. I am stunned to find only a woman and Sena. My teammate is crying out to his mother, his voice sounds lost and years younger. Fumie doesn't recognize him at all, and before I can react she cuts him down. The bullet rips through Sena, he's a child without the sense to die. Very few things escape into my nightmares any more, but I'm positive that I will hear Sena's plaintive voice calling out to this mother.

Every fiber of my being wants to shake her and demand to know how she could ruthlessly kill her own flesh and blood. I can't find the words and when my sword finally pierces her Fumie admits that she was being controlled. She was a puppet at the end of Epitaph's strings.

"I will carry the cross of your sins," I tell her as the light fades from her eyes. I yank my katana out in one fluid motion and she falls, gracelessly. Her hand falls just so to touch Sena, as if in death she finally can reclaim him. It is poetic and grotesque at the same time.

Mastermind kindly informs me that the rest of the Psycho Squad has been defeated. I give a brief sigh of relief, grateful that the tide seems to be turning in our favor. The end is so close at hand I can almost taste it. My body follows the mental map it's been given; I arrive just in time to see Touda unleashed. Tsuji babbles how he is a God, one that she has created. Her words are batted away with blind efficiency as we close in for the kill. In a move that seems almost anticlimactic I stab Touda, and through him Siberian. The insanity that comes when Siberian is a White Hunter fades from Ken's eyes.

I am impressed that my hastily barked commands are followed, Bombay doesn't bat an eyelash, simply carries out my orders. Mastermind is screaming that fucking Crashers has lined the building with bombs, we all need to get out. I shake my head to clear it, to dispel the memories of my time with them. I no longer need a Knight to ride to my rescue. Bombay is working as quickly as he can to implant the virus that will kill Epitaph. I don't understand how a computer can be the threat we've been fighting towards, but then it's not my job to understand, only to carry out the mission.

Soon we are on the move again, fleeing the trapped building like rats from a sinking ship. Ken is slowing us down, but I refuse to leave any more of my team here. Grief over Sena swirls briefly in me, but I'm too much of a professional to let it interfere. I am on the verge of asking Mastermind to locate Balinese for me when inevitable happens. One of the bombs explodes raining rubble and dust on us. I can feel the foundation of the building shake; we are out of time.

We detour up a floor and suddenly my heart skips a beat. Through the gaping hole in front of us I see Balinese being strangled. He's found Tsuji. I know that she has him wrapped up in her mental games, I'm assuming that he has either turned her down or is no longer of use. Then I notice that he's struggling, fighting back. He's trying to end the mission. It feels like a ring of fire has swept through my body at the thought of Yohji having the will to live.

"Yohji! Use this!" I throw my sword before the conscious idea hits my mind. The katana's point slides into the floor near Yohji and his hand reaches out for it. It slides into his grip like he's used it before, like an old friend. Without the slightest hesitation he slashes at Tsuji, wounding her. I can't hear her threats; I can only see Yohji's face twist into a snarl before he kills her.

Ken and Omi slide to halt behind me and I am barely aware of them. Yohji has captured my attention; his eyes seem to be trying to convey more messages that I am able to decipher. I am so caught up in his gaze that the new explosions that rock the building seem distant and unimportant. Slowly I become aware of Omi's hiccuping crying, he is refusing to leave Yohji to his obvious fate. A queer sort of calmness has overcome me, I can barely think around the lassitude.

"You guys… go ahead," Yohji yells at us, but to me his voice sounds low and intimate. I know that Omi will be shaking his head 'no'. Yohji has slid to his knees; it looks like he's praying to us.

"No way! There's no way we can leave you like this!" Omi is screaming, his voice is high and thready with panic. Yohji's eyes are still locked with mine, like we're the only two here. His lips curve in a tiny smile that I know mirrors my own. We can't reach him and Yohji is in no shape to climb out. His right leg was broken, his one arm looks dislocated, who knows what other injuries Yohji may have suffered.

"Are you crying again, Omi? I'll catch up to you guys," unspoken are the words 'don't worry'. Still, he hasn't broken the strange connection between us. Distantly, I can feel Schuldich building a bridge between Yohji and I.

"Let's go home together," Ken breathes, somehow I know that we've all heard him. It is, I think, the wish of our hearts.

"Yeah, we will," I'm not entirely certain that Yohji spoke those words or if I simply heard them via Schuldich. I can feel the sadness that lurks in Yohji, his need to find some meaning to his life as an assassin. We all seem to shy away from that word; it's as if we don't admit to it then our jobs are somehow nobler.

"Aya, I have to return this to you," Yohji tells me, his first words to me since we fought earlier. His hand squeezes the hilt of my sword; he's using it to keep himself propped up. I can feel emotion pricking behind my eyes. With that I know that the anger and tension between us is gone, he has forgiven both of us. I forgive us as well. He's also telling me that there is unfinished business between us, returning the sword will be repaying his debt to me.

I smile and test the bridge between our minds, I send comfort through the link and Yohji drinks it in like its water. He's been dying inside being separated from us all; it's entirely my fault. Guilt slides through me, but it's transitory. I made my choices and Yohji made his. We can make up for it but we can't change it.

"The place for me is with you guys," he tells us, voicing my inner thoughts for me. Truth be told, it's probably what we're all thinking. We are a team. Yohji's eyes have softened; they've become almost sleepy, like his bedroom eyes.

"I am… WEISS!" Yohji shouts at me. We have come full circle, we are together again.

"Wait for me," I whisper, offering him the gentlest look I can as I smile down at him. He responds in kind and the sweet curve of his lips causes a flood of emotion within me, most of which I don't even understand. For a heartbeat he and I are at peace and we are the only two who exist.

Time waits for no man; above us another explosion detonates and iron girders and concrete fall to cover Yohji and Tsuji. For a moment Omi's wail overshadows the collapsing debris around us, then our flight instincts kick in and we run for the exit.

"No! Yohji-kun!" Omi is still shrieking as we run but neither Ken nor I pay him any mind. Mamoru will want to get out even if Omi doesn't.

I keep my back resolutely to the helicopter that Crashers has brought with them. I know Omi will call in to complete the mission and Ken needs immediate medical attention. Schwartz is still here, and I have to find Yohji. The school is a smoldering ruin in front of me, despair claws at me as I wonder how I will ever find Yohji beneath all of that.

Nothing to worry about there… the Nagster kept them sheltered as the walls came down. We have him for you safe and sound, Schuldich places the thought directly into my mind. I nod as if he can see me and start walking in the direction that I know that they will be in. I can feel Schuldich's underlying anger but I am still distant too from my own emotions to have much care for his.

I reach the four of them; Yohji is unconscious on the grass, as is Crawford. Schuldich's eyes, so like Yohji's, bore into me as if he is waiting for an apology. I don't have it in me to offer it to him, I wonder if he'll hate me and throw ultimatums as well. I give a half shrug before kneeling beside Yohji. I reach out and take one of his cool hands in mine and I feel an electric shock.

Suddenly it is a warm summer day, nearing twilight but still warm and light and beautiful. Weiss is on a hillside with high grass surrounding us; the Koneko van is the only sign of civilization near us.

"It's so peaceful," Omi comments on the obvious. I want to chuckle at his need to play narrator to our lives.

"Aa," Yohji answers. He always takes the time to let the kid know he's been heard. I marvel at his patience.

"I wish the day would last forever," Omi continues, his voice is soft and wistful. A part of me agrees, but another, darker part insists that this is an illusion.

"Aa. Well, it won't last for long. When the sun sets, the mission's reality will catch up to us. We can't escape until the end. Until we die. We are, forever…" Yohji is doing his best to make Omi leave childhood behind.

"Hey!" Ken interrupts. Out of all of us, he's the most protective of the kid. I tune them out as the sky begins to darken towards night.

"Sorry," Yohji tells them sheepishly. "Yeah, it would be nice if it lasted."

"I know! Flowers!" Omi shouts.

"Huh?" that from the ever eloquent Ken.

"We could travel while selling flowers. We could fill the van up with them. We'll just follow the wind to places we've never seen and to people we've never met. And on nice days like this we could close the shop…" Omi is overly excited with the picturesque life he's painting for us.

"Then we'd have to replace the sound system. We won't be able to enjoy the ride with that piece of crap," Yohji interrupts, trying to halt Omi's enthusiasm before it gets out of hand.

"How about I sing for you guys instead?" Ken offers, always our comic relief.

"No thanks," Yohji grumbles good-naturedly. Ken laughs, almost what I'd call a giggle. At times we are more than a team, we're a family. My back is to them so it's safe for me to indulge in a smile.

"Ne, Aya-kun, will you go with us? Aya-kun, lets go together, OK?" Omi calls to me. Night is rapidly falling. The day is cooling off faster than I thought possible. Suddenly the soft scent of sun-warmed grass has disappeared to be replaced by the heavy, acrid scent of destruction.

"Don't mind-fuck me, Schuldich," I growl at him, angry that I am no longer in the dream. It was so perfect, that single moment that Omi wanted, that we all wanted, to last forever.

"It can last, just make the choice to go back and tell Mamoru that Weiss needs Omi and you all can live together in the van. Tell him and make it a reality. Take Yohji back to that life and watch him bleed away inside," Schuldich tells me, his voice even and uncaring. Even in the dream Yohji was overshadowed by this life. I look down at his face, free of the normal stresses and pressure. He looks younger, even with the severe haircut. My hand brushes his cheek, I feel like I'm cheating him.

"Can you get rid of his memories? Can you erase Weiss from him?" I ask and I'm grateful that that my voice doesn't crack.

"Are you sure? If I do this, it can't be undone," Schuldich warns me. Nagi makes a face and walks away from us, probably disgusted by our show of emotions.

"Just do it, let him have a shot at the life he's always wanted," I command. It hurts in a way I am unprepared for. Loosing Yohji means that Weiss is dead. The fifth generation of our team will be recruited and used. I find that the idea of staying in Japan is becoming increasingly distasteful to me.

I walk away, unable to watch as Schuldich violates Yohji's mind. When he's done Nagi and Schuldich work together to teleport Crawford and Yohji to a hospital. Before they go, I fold my katana into Yohji's hands; Schuldich gives me a look that I ignore. It's the only thing I have to leave him, and it doesn't matter to me if he won't remember.

I'll find you when you're ready to go, Schuldich whispers in my mind. Yes, I think he's right. I am ready to move on, to start another life.

It takes less time that I thought to wrap us all the loose ends of this life. Not that any of us had a life to call our own. I am looking for closure in all things. Ken is looking for rehabilitation, Aya-chan has a life, Mamoru is being swallowed by his fate. Kritiker thinks that Yohji and I are dead, which suits me just fine. I pack sparsely and head for the airport.

Ken is there to say goodbye, he is shocked when Schuldich crawls out of the woodwork and throws a casual arm around my waist. I don't think that this is exactly the way I would have chosen for him to learn about this but what's done is done.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Ken yelps. I shake my head and lean into Schuldich's tall form. Slow acceptance dawns into Ken's eyes and Schuldich steps away to give us the illusion of privacy.

"Well, at least I know that someone'll have your back. Be careful, Aya," Ken tells me, then does the unexpected and gives me a hug. Schuldich and I walk away without looking back. It would be too hard to see Ken watching us leave, cutting this final tie with my homeland is somehow harder and easier than I imagined.

New York is full of dark beasts we learn. I'm not surprised, just generally dissatisfied that the life of a murderer follows me wherever I go. It wasn't unexpected, nor was it unplanned. Here, however, we are on our own. Schuldich handles the money and I choose which offers to take. We are far more selective than Kritker ever was, and we only take contracts when it's necessary. Any excess money that we make I donate to my own special charity. Schuldich refuses to participate in it, something to do with Jei and his hatred of God. All I know is that the nuns need funding to make sure that the children in their care don't end up like us.

I've been watching the seasons bleed into each other here and I am finding a contrasting beauty in it. The scenery is so different from what I'm used to, I'm thankful for that as it helps to keep any homesickness at bay. Schuldich and I are a team, a family. He doesn't ask for more than I'm able to give and I have the luxury of calling what is growing between us a business relationship. I don't wear white or black now, just red like the blood that covers my blade. I am the dark winged angel that exacts vengeance. That doesn't make it any easier to quiet my own inner-demons, but I feel that I'm more honest about what I am. I am just a murderer in a country that has no justice.

More often than not, Schuldich and I grouse around in each other's minds. There are times when I can no longer tell where he ends and I begin. There is something in that that makes me feel uncomfortable but I can't allow myself to think about it, so I don't. I find that it's nigh impossible to block him out of my head and I don't want to. He helps to share the burden of my guilt. Halved, it's bearable.

There are days when I almost feel normal. Christmas is drawing near; Americans seem to have a strange over-amplification of this holiday. I don't quite understand it but it's fun seeing the decorations and the caricatures. I am wondering if Schuldich and I will celebrate this holiday season, or if we are still too antisocial together. He snorts in the back of my head and I smile, happy. He is a warm presence in my most intimate thoughts and I concentrate on it, trying to draw him out more.

Because I am distracted, because it's my own fault, I don't see the child until it's too late. There is a flash of honey-brown hair before I notice the colder gleam of metal. For a moment, I don't feel any pain as shock kicks in. The boy, his pale face holds a horrified expression, looks up at me with fear in his green eyes. He can't be more than eight or nine years old. Through the shock I register that he looks likes Yohji. Pain, one that is internal in nature, rips through me, which makes me aware of the external pain in my stomach.

Schuldich screams in my mind that the blade is poisoned. Mamoru, I mouth at the child which breaks his stupor and he runs. I wonder, fleetingly, if my face will haunt his dreams. I take a few shambling steps, then a few more. I can still walk, I will walk. I use the pain to build a shield, to lock Schuldich out. I don't know how my death will affect him if we're linked mind to mind. I do my best to keep him at bay, I can still feel him battling to get back inside my head but I know that he won't be able to. For a moment I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

Uneven pavement under my feet causes me to stumble and I find that I can no longer keep myself upright. I've been cradling the knife in my gut, like it's precious to me. In a way it is, it's the remnants of a broken promise. I'll never let the Takatori family come after you rattles in my head in that sweet, innocent voice. Allowing and ordering are two very different things, aren't they Mamoru?

My body is propped against a mailbox; the cool metal feels good against my feverish forehead. I grab the knife handle to pull it out, but realize that the damage is already done. I should have removed it earlier. My vision is swimming and I can hear a high pitched buzzing sound in the distance. I push the blade in deeper, just to see if I can still feel it. I can, but barely.

No one thinks it's odd to see a man collapsed on the street, either that or no one is willing to help me. I don't mind. Images flash through my head of the nights Schuldich and I have spent in passion, of nights we've killed together, of nights were we were silent. Silence. That's what I need.

My mental shields drop as my vision fades. I can hear Schuldich again begging me to hold on until he can reach me. I stretch out my hand as if I could touch him but the only thing my fingers find is the cold metal of the mailbox. I think it's snowing.

Goddammit Aya, you fucking hold on! Do you hear me? Aya… his voice trails off and all is silent and white. I can smell the summer meadow, maybe I've been staring at the sun too long.

"Ne, Aya-kun, will you go? Aya-kun, lets go together," Omi is pleading, there's an urgency in his voice that I can't understand.

I am silent for so long that the other members of Weiss are getting restless. Yohji stands and starts walking toward me. Omi is holding his breath, waiting for me to deny them the dream.

"Aa... that would be nice," I tell them. They crowd around me, eager. "Ken, Yohji, Omi, let's all… go together…"

My head lolls forward and night falls. Darkness surrounds us. I know I'm forgetting something.

"Schuldich," I whisper and he appears as a fifth shadow in our perfect dream. I can relax now; we're all together. We're going together.

AYAAA…

And the world fades to black.