Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ In the shadows ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

In the shadows

Chapter 4

 

 

Over the past few days he had come to appreciate the darkness. It brought peace and quiet, a temporary refuge from the ever-present agony in his chest. He had grown so tired of the pain, sometimes he found himself praying that somebody would finish what that cursed bullet had started. Those damned painkillers the boys kept feeding him whenever he was strong enough to keep his eyes open for a longer time didn't ease the throbbing as much as he would hope for. They only made him drowsy and light-headed, but at least they were a small improvement. He had actually grown tired of feeling tired and confused, he still wasn't one step closer to find out what was happening to him. It seemed, as if some greater force had decided to take his life and turn it upside down, take all control away from him and leave him with the crumbled remains of his once meaningful existence.

 

And the worst part of it was the fact that he knew this greater force by its first name, could even tell how IT liked its coffee first thing in the morning.

 

He just couldn't come up with a single reason as to why that bastard had shot him. The few lucid moments he had enjoyed he had spent cursing that black-haired demon he had once called a friend. He couldn't understand it, his exhausted brain couldn't get over the fact it had been Brad-fucking-Crawford who had pulled the trigger. Crawford had shot him.

 

Crawford had shot HIM.

 

He had tried to ignore that fact at first, but eventually it had sunk in. And, just as slowly, another feeling had found its way into his already hurting chest, a pain that hurt worse than any gun wound ever could. That was the point where he always shied away from reality, forced himself to take a deep breath - as deep as the wound would allow - and try to shut it out, push it into the furthest corner of his troubled mind. He didn't want that, he didn't want to think about it.

 

But every so often it slipped back in to haunt him.

 

He knew he should be upset. Furious. Ready to kill him.

 

But somehow he didn't have the energy left to even feel like that, his thoughts kept drifting out of reach as soon as he tried to think them. God, he was so tired…

 

He felt bad. Confused. Hurt. Betrayed.

 

Alone.

 

Crawford had wanted him dead.

 

He didn't know why, he had done nothing that would have justified such a punishment. If it had been a punishment at all.

 

Crawford had wanted him dead.

 

Some little voice at the back of his mind - which sounded suspiciously similar to Brad's - remarked matter-of-factly that there was no sense in trying to figure out why he had done it, the American had his own reasons and acted on them. Nobody, except maybe himself, would be able to understand it.

 

But, on the other hand… If he really had wanted him to die on that rooftop he would be giving an unplugged concert for all those sweet little angels in heaven right now. He wouldn't be lying in a bed, still able to think about his current condition. Crawford was a crack shot, once he drew his gun on whomever he wanted to see dead that person didn't stand a chance. He rarely needed a second shot to finish his target.

 

I'll get you for this, Crawford.

 

He groaned tiredly and tried to shift his position, but his body once again refused to obey his demands. And then there was suddenly something cold and sharp pressing against his windpipe, pushing down hard enough to impair his already troubled breathing. He moaned softly and forced his weary eyes open, blinking against the bright light.

 

A tall, dark, still a bit blurry figure was standing next to his bed, pressing something shiny down across his throat. Cold, amethyst eyes were glaring down at him, promising death and even worse a fate at the hands of one apparently very pissed off Abyssinian. “What do you want here, Schwarz?” The dark voice was laced with hate and anger and the assassin didn't move, was standing as still as a statue, obviously demanding an answer.

 

He blinked rapidly, trying to force his unresponsive brain cells into action. He needed to come up with something to say, to get this psycho off of him, or at least that sharp sword away from his neck. “Fuck off, you moron…” he ground out, unfortunately not having enough strength to raise his voice above a hoarse whisper.

 

The swordsman obviously wasn't in the mood to be considerate of his trouble, his eyes narrowed even further and he bent forward towards him. “What do you want with my team, Schwarz? What game are you playing?”

 

Game… he thought tiredly. Farf liked to play games. And Nagi would love to find a game he wouldn't win at the first try. Shit, he was drifting again… He had the indistinct suspicion that the blood loss due to the wound had seriously affected his… well, his… that part of his head which did the thinking. He couldn't remember anything for a longer time, the Weiss boys kept asking him questions he had seriously wanted to answer at least some of them, but by the time he had come up with an appropriate answer he had usually forgotten what the question was.

 

Concentrate, Schuldig, focus… You can do this… Pretend it's Crawford you're talking to…

 

“It's called sleeping… take that thing away…” There, now nobody could accuse him of having lost the appropriate sarcasm. And he was proud of himself that he could almost hear his voice again, although the two `sentences' completely lacked the arrogance he really would have liked to voice. Maybe then Abyssinian would have felt at least a little intimidated by him and might have taken the sword away. Instead of leaning down really close to him and applying enough pressure to make him see stars for a moment.

 

“AYA! What are you doing?”

 

The pressure lessened a bit and he was able to draw a small breath, fighting with all his might to open his eyes again. His knight in shining armour was currently holding a tray with a noodle-bowl in his hands, while his wide eyes were resting on the corresponding dragon - to keep the metaphor - who was looking back at him with an admirably calm and relaxed expression. Just as if he wasn't currently in the process of trying to choke the already wounded damsel in distress to death with his sword.

 

Had he just thought of himself as a woman?

 

“Get back, Ken, I need a few answers.”

 

Right, Ken was his name, Hidaka Ken. The one with the claws and those funny goggles he liked to wear on missions. The one he had been playing with before…

 

“Aya put that sword away! He's our guest and he isn't up to attack you or me or anybody else in this house… Please?” The last word had a pleading tone to it that would have been hard to overhear. And it did indeed draw the redhead's gaze away from his helpless, though definitely not female prey. He watched with a detached fascination how Hidaka Ken stepped into the room and put the tray onto the small table in one corner of the room.

 

“Aya, please, could you come outside with me and then we'll talk about this? You know, Yoji's still having this flu but he's feeling a lot better today and when Omi comes back from school we could—“

 

“I don't want to talk to you, Ken, I want to talk with him and he is going to give me some answers.”

 

The stars were back, exploding in front of his eyes as once again the blade pressed down across his throat. He groaned, or tried to, and raised a hand to push the sword away, only belatedly realizing that he could severely cut his hands by doing so, but the next moment the pressure was gone again, replaced by two very angry voices.

 

“Aya, stop that, you're hurting him!”

 

“Ken, I don't care if I'm hurting him, I want some answers and he is going to give them to me. Don't protect him.”

 

“But he's our guest and you can't just sneak in here and torture him while we're not looking!”

 

The voices were getting fainter and he tried to force his eyes open, but he couldn't find the strength to do so. Oh well, he could listen to their yelling with his eyes closed…

 

“I wasn't going to torture him, don't give me that shit. I simply want to know what is was all about up there on the roof. I didn't sneak in.”

 

“I didn't hear you come in through the front door either, Aya!”

 

“Maybe that's because you're suddenly all eyes for him. What if his team decides to follow him here and finish what they've started? Maybe to surprise or ambush you? You wouldn't notice because you're completely ignorant to what is happening around you.”

 

“Now that's a new one, Mr. I-don't-give-a-shit-about-anything-at-all! I've been paying a lot of attention to my surroundings and that's exactly why he's here! He has been abandoned by his own team, don't you get that?”

 

Thanks for reminding me again, Hidaka.

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

“Aya, what are you saying?”

 

“All I'm saying, Ken, is that he is still our enemy and his team is still out there. I don't know if you still care, but you're supposed to be working against those people.”

 

“Dammit, Aya, of course I still care! I'm still a member of Weiss, remember? We're supposed to be a team, to work together, okay?”

 

“And why are you working against Kritiker then?”

 

“I—WHAT? What are you talking about?? I'm not working against them, Aya, you know that!”

 

They had definitely left the room now, but they were still yelling so loud that he didn't have any problems following their conversation.

 

“Do I? Last time I checked being hospitable towards the enemy didn't sound like Kritiker-policy to me.”

 

“Goddammit, Aya, what is wrong with you?? Where does that shit come from? Why are you so protective all of a sudden? You usually don't give a shit what we're doing! You KNOW that we'd never betray Kritiker! Or Weiss! NEVER!”

 

And why are you so keen on ruining all this trust just for HIM? What is he to you? Why do you want to save him so desperately?”

 

“Because he's a human being who needs help! We were not ordered to kill him and he's done nothing to put anyone of us in danger! We don't have to take his life, for once we don't have to kill somebody! We can actually help him! Have you already grown so cold that you don't see the value of one single life anymore? Even if he is our enemy! He's done nothing to us, okay? Just because he's been working for Takatori you want to kill him! I'm so sick of this, Aya! He is going to stay here and for once I don't give a damn what you think about it! And you—“

 

!!! THUD !!!

 

That had sounded like a hit…

 

Shit…

 

From one moment to the next it was completely silent, not a single sound could be heard. He listened into the silence and didn't dare to move for a long moment, getting more worried by the continuing stillness. Considering their assassin nature and the aggressive tension he had sensed just moments before this couldn't be a good sign. He liked Ken. And not just because he would most probably die a slow and painful death through Abyssinian's sword if the brunette didn't manage to hold him back. The younger man had been looking after him for what seemed to be forever to him right now. “Mentally disabled” had slowly changed to “could-actually-be-considered-quite-useful” and not only his crippled social senses insisted that he should be really doing something right now and try to save Hidaka's neck.

 

He just couldn't figure out how…

 

“What happened?” His voice still didn't want to cooperate; apart from a pathetic wheezing he couldn't get more words out in one breath. “Hidaka? Everything okay?”

 

No answer.

 

Fuck it, why me?

 

Later he would admit that it had literary been a dumb move, but he couldn't help it: He tried to sit up a bit and crane his neck to the side, hoping to catch a glance at whatever was happening in the next room.

 

It was the last thing he did that day, his chest immediately seized up on him and he didn't think about Hidaka and his possible fate when bright hot agony lanced through his chest and darkness once again descended over his senses.

 

 

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It was not their first fight for dominance, but it was certainly the most surprising move Aya had ever made. He had caught him completely unaware, had lunged at him and pinned him against the wall behind him, trapping his arms between the two of them as he pressed against him, knocking his head back against the wall. He gasped for breath, but only one moment later he couldn't breathe anymore because someone was stealing his air.

 

Holy protector of the Japanese soccer team.

 

Aya was kissing him.

 

Aya was kissing HIM.

 

AYA was kissing HIM!

 

For just one moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't act, couldn't think. For just one moment his world stood still and he could actually see his whole life repeat itself in front of his inner eye.

 

And then the moment was gone and he was kissing back, putting all his energy and hunger into the kiss, trying to deepen it as far as Aya would let him. He was dimly aware that Aya was holding the back of his head with one hand, pressing their heads together, leaving him no room to escape. Not that he would want to do that, if he had any say in this they would try the impossible and stay like this for the rest of his time.

 

It was incredible. Aya's lips were just as soft as he had always imagined and yet they didn't yield one bit, they met his just as fierce and demanding as he had always fantasized. His own eyes had closed automatically and although he could barely move his arms he tried as best as he could to press his body back against him. Maybe it was just a dream, maybe it was the biggest misunderstanding ever, he didn't care, it didn't matter, he finally was where he had wanted to be for a long time.

 

But all good things apparently had come to an end and he felt as if the ground was shaking when Aya suddenly broke the kiss and took a deep breath. He didn't want to open his eyes then, suddenly scared to death of what he would see.

 

But then Aya made a noise and his eyes opened reflexively and he looked up at him.

 

And almost wished he hadn't.

 

Furious amethyst eyes were only inches from his own, staring down at him with an intensity that was usually reserved for his worst enemies. He didn't dare to breathe for a moment, his eyes went wide and he just stared at the other assassin.

 

A mistake then.

 

“I hate you, Ken…”

 

Aya's voice was barely more than a whisper, and yet it seemed to reverberate inside his head, making him wince. This was not what he wanted to hear.

 

“What? Aya… I…”

 

But Aya cut him off, fixing his gaze on Ken's… lips?

 

“I hate you… because you can make me feel this way…”

 

His voice was still so soft he really had trouble making the words out. But event though he could understand them… he didn't understand them at all.

 

“Aya… what…”

 

Aya's gaze intensified and his gaze went back to his eyes. Ken could almost feel the glare brushing across his skin and couldn't suppress a gasp when the amethyst fire suddenly burned away all his defences and he felt that he was right now looking down deep into his soul, searching for something. He didn't have the strength to `fight' back, to shield his emotions from that searching gaze, but he was determined to endure every minute of it, he wouldn't back down.

 

Even if he had never before felt this exposed and vulnerable.

 

He didn't know how long they stood there, staring at each other, their bodies only inches apart. He wasn't really sure why Aya was doing this, what exactly he was looking for, but he prayed to God he would find it, he didn't intend to let him go. It felt right, he had never before been so sure about anything, this kiss… AYA was what he had wanted for a long time. He wouldn't give him up, no matter what the redhead would throw at him, whatever reasons he would come up with why this couldn't work. It would work. Aya had just acknowledged that he was having whatever strange feelings for him and he would be damned if he wouldn't turn them into something they both could live with.

 

He just didn't have the slightest idea how to do this… Maybe he should just do what he always did, go with the flow and think about possible consequences later. Just like on missions… Wait, that was an option, he would just pretend he was on a mission, a one-man-mission. His objective: to get another one of those kisses. His current status: close, but definitely not there yet, waiting for target's move. His weapons: the knowledge that this had to be done…

 

His attention was drawn back to the present when Aya's eyes suddenly widened fractionally and he took a deep breath, then suddenly turned away. “I'll be at the shop…”

 

He blinked a few times, staring at Aya's back, watching how he picked up the katana from the floor and sheathed it carefully, not once looking back at him.

 

“Aya…”

 

“Leave it, Ken, okay? Just leave it be.”

 

“I hate you, too…”

 

Aya indeed turned back to him and opened his mouth to say something, but the next moment Ken was on him, ruthlessly taking his advantage, pushing him back against the wall, leaning forward and kissing him for all he was worth. He wouldn't let him go, even if he had just misinterpreted all the signs Aya had given him. Aya stiffened and at first Ken thought he was going to fight him, but then… then he opened his mouth and kissed him back, just like that.

 

Mission accomplished.

 

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