Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Madness is Red ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 05.01.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 220 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Angst | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 05.01.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 220 | Status: Work In Progress
Notes: Picked this one up for another chapter. I hope someone’s still interested!
Chapter Three
He had been awake for half an hour, forced into consciousness by the rising level of hectic thoughts around him. He had to rouse himself to ignore it, defeating the purpose entirely and leaving him awake in the quiet of the room.
Abyssinian was still. It was tempting to rifle through his thoughts, but Schuldig resisted, unsure of what he might find. Aya had always been hard to read, taking more effort than usual just to get his most immediate plans. Jump right, dodge, skewer Mastermind. Those days seemed distant; it had been, what, a year? They weren’t enemies anymore; they weren’t anything. Well, except roommates.
Involved in imagining what the rest of the kitties would think when they came to visit, Schuldig almost missed the steps outside their door. There was no missing the sound, though, when the heavy bolt slid back. Sitting up, he brushed his tangled hair out of his face and watched two men enter. They were, apparently, using the buddy system to prevent injury by either of the room’s occupants. That made him smile. He debated biting one for the hell of it.
They locked the door behind them and turned on the light; what had been a dim room with bar-broken sunlight falling through the window became a harshly lit cell under the wash of bright fluorescents.
They entered with caution, looking carefully around. There was some general relief that Schuldig had survived the night without injury. Curious.
One of the men in white medical gear was young, no more than twenty-five, and actually scared of what Aya might do despite having an inch and at least twenty pounds on the redhead. The thoughts of the other man, a slightly older brunette, were more secure, but he was all too ready to restrain Aya should the situation call for it. He could, and had, Schuldig noted; this one had been a sailor, and his muscular frame and large arms contrasted with his rather gentle, if square and masculine, face. There was some peculiar feelings involving the redhead, but Schuldig didn’t have time to sort through them.
Both of the men were carrying trays. One was deposited on Schuldig’s nightstand by the bigger man, who offered him a smile.
“Sorry, but you’ll have to eat in here until you get through evaluation. I’m Sai; you’ll see me here most days.” He took a step back, resting his hands on his hips as he turned to his coworker. “Put it down, already.”
The younger man nodded, his blonde hair falling further into his face. He hesitated to approach Aya who, since the door had opened, was kneeling on his bed, hands pressed flat on the mattress like a cat ready to pounce. The tight leather pants stretched around his lean thighs, and the disarray of his hair only added to the feral image that had the orderly ready to wet his pants.
“Toma!” Sai finally snapped.
Quickly, the blonde moved in, almost dropping the plastic tray in his effort to be quick about setting it down. Aya glared, but not at him. He addressed himself to Sai; apparently, they had a history.
“No.”
“Yes, Aya,” his deep voice was patient but not patronizing. “You eat here until Dr. Setsuya decides you’re not a danger to the staff.”
“He started it,” Aya replied.
Sai shrugged. A quick peek at his thoughts revealed passive disbelief but no animosity. Schuldig got out of his head just in time to respond to the next statement addressed to him.
“I’m afraid you won’t find any silverware,” he hesitated, and Schuldig sensed apprehension; it turned out to be that the man wasn’t sure he could properly pronounce the German’s name. He decided to skip it. “You’ll have some when you eat in the cafeteria, but for the moment, Aya here isn’t allowed, and it would be too much of a temptation.”
Aya sniffed at that, effectively retrieving Sai’s attention.
Well, that explained the spoon comment. Schuldig grinned as he drew the memory from Toma’s mind: Aya had a dark-haired orderly by the collar, and held at his throat was a plastic spoon, the handle broken into a sharp point that bit into the orderly’s bleeding neck.
“I want to eat out there,” Aya demanded.
“Can’t.”
“Then I’m not eating,” was the petulant reply.
Toma looked distressed at this, but Sai just shook his head.
“Your choice. We did that last week though.”
“Fuck you,” Aya replied.
Sai just shrugged, walking to the door. Schuldig noted that despite his air of ease, one eye was kept constantly on the redhead, and his back wasn’t turned until after Toma had opened the door. They left without further comment, and the bolt slid loudly into place.
Aya was still glaring at the place they had been, and Schuldig didn’t need to use his power to know that the man was debating on exactly how to kill the orderlies.
Deciding that it wasn’t the best time to strike up conversation, he turned his attention to the covered platic tray and lifted off the lid. It wasn’t too bad, not fine dining by any means, but a step or two above the institutional-grade shit they’d been giving him the last few days. Although, he wasn’t quite sure how to go about eating the thin, rolled eggs without a fork.
There was a noise of movement, and he looked up to see Aya lay back on the bed, staring at him.
Finding himself suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny, Schuldig looked down to open the carton of juice. He’d rather have coffee, but, if his guess was correct, Aya was probably not allowed around anything hot at the moment.
“Is it poisoned?” he asked with a grin, lifting one of the eggs between his fingers.
Aya shook his head no.
With a shrug, Schuldig did his best to the slippery thing in his mouth, finding himself in need of the napkin afterwards.
“Damn. Couldn’t you have used a hanger or something? I fell like a caveman.”
That got a smile, Aya apparently back in a better mood as he shifted around to sit on the bed.
Thinking the bowl of rice was a hopeless cause, he took the toast and left the rest. Aya’s food remained untouched.
“You’re seriously not gonna eat?”
“No.”
That said, he got off the bed and, after a detour to turn off the overhead lights, stalked to the closet. Pulling off his shirt, he held it in his left hand and used the other to slide open the door.
Well, the not eating explained why the man looked thinner than last time they had met. It was surprising, Schuldig thought, that he retained so much muscle tone, his arms small but obviously strong, his waist thin but with the gently defined abs of an athlete. Abyssinian was a fascinating creature.
Chewing the dry toast, he watched Aya shuffle a surprisingly diverse collection of clothes (all on plastic hangers that couldn’t be removed from the rod) and take out a black t-shirt. He pulled it over his head, leaving his hair even more disordered than before; it stuck up in the back, and the eartails were frizzed. It was odd, Abyssinian always being put together, sleek and showy even as he tried to gut you.
Now he was pulling out some pants, black. A pair of underwear were produced from a wicker basket in the bottom of the closet. Both items rested over his arm as he undid the button and zip of the leather pants.
Then Schuldig found himself under scrutiny.
“Don’t watch,” Aya ordered.
Schuldig rolled his eyes at the modesty but turned around to face the wall, finishing the last of his breakfast as he listened to the other dress behind him. When he got bored of staring at the white wall a bare minute later, he snuck a peek just in time to see the snug black pants being pulled over trim hips, noting absently that Aya’s underwear were of the black silk variety.
“All black today?” he questioned.
Aya’s head whipped around, hands still gripping the two sides of the button fly.
“I said not to watch!”
“Sorry, too tempting.”
Aya glared at him, simultaneously buttoning his pants. When this was done, he walked over and punched Schuldig hard just below the shoulder. Quick to react, the German shoved him back, undeterred when Aya didn’t fall. He stood; Aya smiled.
Schuldig stopped, dropped his hands, and grinned.
“No?” Aya asked.
“Not today,” he answered, flopping back on the bed. “Would be fun, though.”
Aya shrugged. Then, with perfect calm, “Don’t watch me when I change or I’ll tell them you’re trying to sleep with me.”
“Who says I’m not?”
A raised eyebrow, but he remained generally indifferent as he tried to smooth down his hair, “If Mitzu hears that, you’ll go to three.”
“Three?”
“Sex offenders. Criminally insane.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Constant supervision.”
Oh, well that was unpleasant. About to ask what would keep him from reversing the threat, he heard the bolt slide again. The same two men stepped in, this time carrying a pair of pair of plastic handcuff ties.
“Schuldig, Dr. Setsuya wants to see you at nine,” Sai stated, not unfriendly. He had practiced the name. “Do you want to go to the facilities before we go up?”
He shrugged, having wondered how such necessities were handled. As he allowed Sai to place the thin bands around his wrists, he decided he wouldn’t be staying long. Not when they didn’t get their own private bathroom. Maybe Bradley could fix it.
~*~
After using the restroom with an indifferent Sai looking on, Schuldig had been glad to brush his teeth, even if the toothbrush was a cheap, soft thing. They didn’t offer him a hairbrush, so he made due with raking through his tangled mane with his fingers and tossing it back over his shoulder. He wasn’t exactly a stunning picture in the white sweatsuit, but maybe he had enough natural charm to carry it off.
He was led up three flights of stairs and shown into a small, sparsely decorated office. A middle-aged Japanese woman sat behind a large, wooden desk; her dark hair was tied back efficiently at her neck, and a pair of reading glasses rested on her head. She wasn’t what he would call attractive, but she might have passed for okay ten years ago, maybe, before the crows feet began to sneak around her eyes and her lips began to thin. Shuffling a few folders, she gestured to the leather chair in front of her desk.
The cuffs were removed from his wrists, but an orderly he didn’t know was left in the room.
“I hope you are finding our facility adequate?” she asked without looking at him.
“Yeah,” he returned, already trying to slip inside her thoughts. Immediately he was assaulted by list after list of things she had to do, as if the woman was perpetually keeping herself on task by reiterating the minutia of her position. He saw flickering images of himself, subsumed almost instantly by folders and forms.
“Very good.” Putting down her pen, she looked up at him. “I’m Dr. Setsuya, the administrator here. I have ultimate say in most decisions, including discharge.”
Yeah, yeah, you control my fate, he thought, but smiled and nodded.
“There are five psychiatrists here. You will be under the care of Dr. Mitzu and will have two private sessions a week with her. Additionally, while on level four of our privilege system, you will be required to attend four small group sessions a week and one large group session. Small groups meet with various doctors, and I handle the large group meeting on Thursdays. As you progress, you will be given more control over your time.
“You are currently located on floor six, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You will have an evaluation later today, and if everything goes well, you will be moved to four or five.”
“Moved?” he questioned.
She nodded, “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, floor six is a rather restrictive level reserved for new patients and those who are…resistant to treatment.”
Her thoughts said more, providing images of locked doors and long sighs, of sessions that went nowhere, and of one dark haired woman in a straight jacket who threw herself repeatedly against a padded wall.
“Resistant?” he asked, just to bide time as he prodded her thoughts for information on Abyssinian.
“Though we do our best to provide care and treatment for all our patients, there are those that simply….”
He lost track of her words as he sifted through images connected with what she was saying. The dark haired woman was back, chewing on a strand of her long hair as she sat in a corner. An emaciated girl with chopped, blonde hair cutting her arm with the tab from a soda can. A short, wrinkled man who talked only to the television screen in a language no one else knew. Nothing about Aya.
“And my roommate?” he questioned.
She looked back to the desk, shuffled a few papers, then started a little before clearing her throat.
“Don’t worry, there’s no need for you to continue to room with him.”
Schuldig moved quickly, pressing harder than he should have to catch the thoughts that came up while her focus was on the redhead. Most prominent was the memory of his hard glare. Then, a brief flash, Aya sitting in the corner of his room, thin, bandaged arms drawn to his chest, threatening to kill whoever got close to him. The spoon incident was there, but it was vague and fuzzy, something that had probably been reported to her.
“ I don’t mind,” he smiled, trying to be charming and simultaneously tweaking her mind so that the idea of having the two of them together was extremely attractive.
“He’s unstable,” she all but whispered, suddenly unsure.
“Yes, but so am I.”
~tbc~
Scribble a review on the padded walls before you go?
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Chapter Three
He had been awake for half an hour, forced into consciousness by the rising level of hectic thoughts around him. He had to rouse himself to ignore it, defeating the purpose entirely and leaving him awake in the quiet of the room.
Abyssinian was still. It was tempting to rifle through his thoughts, but Schuldig resisted, unsure of what he might find. Aya had always been hard to read, taking more effort than usual just to get his most immediate plans. Jump right, dodge, skewer Mastermind. Those days seemed distant; it had been, what, a year? They weren’t enemies anymore; they weren’t anything. Well, except roommates.
Involved in imagining what the rest of the kitties would think when they came to visit, Schuldig almost missed the steps outside their door. There was no missing the sound, though, when the heavy bolt slid back. Sitting up, he brushed his tangled hair out of his face and watched two men enter. They were, apparently, using the buddy system to prevent injury by either of the room’s occupants. That made him smile. He debated biting one for the hell of it.
They locked the door behind them and turned on the light; what had been a dim room with bar-broken sunlight falling through the window became a harshly lit cell under the wash of bright fluorescents.
They entered with caution, looking carefully around. There was some general relief that Schuldig had survived the night without injury. Curious.
One of the men in white medical gear was young, no more than twenty-five, and actually scared of what Aya might do despite having an inch and at least twenty pounds on the redhead. The thoughts of the other man, a slightly older brunette, were more secure, but he was all too ready to restrain Aya should the situation call for it. He could, and had, Schuldig noted; this one had been a sailor, and his muscular frame and large arms contrasted with his rather gentle, if square and masculine, face. There was some peculiar feelings involving the redhead, but Schuldig didn’t have time to sort through them.
Both of the men were carrying trays. One was deposited on Schuldig’s nightstand by the bigger man, who offered him a smile.
“Sorry, but you’ll have to eat in here until you get through evaluation. I’m Sai; you’ll see me here most days.” He took a step back, resting his hands on his hips as he turned to his coworker. “Put it down, already.”
The younger man nodded, his blonde hair falling further into his face. He hesitated to approach Aya who, since the door had opened, was kneeling on his bed, hands pressed flat on the mattress like a cat ready to pounce. The tight leather pants stretched around his lean thighs, and the disarray of his hair only added to the feral image that had the orderly ready to wet his pants.
“Toma!” Sai finally snapped.
Quickly, the blonde moved in, almost dropping the plastic tray in his effort to be quick about setting it down. Aya glared, but not at him. He addressed himself to Sai; apparently, they had a history.
“No.”
“Yes, Aya,” his deep voice was patient but not patronizing. “You eat here until Dr. Setsuya decides you’re not a danger to the staff.”
“He started it,” Aya replied.
Sai shrugged. A quick peek at his thoughts revealed passive disbelief but no animosity. Schuldig got out of his head just in time to respond to the next statement addressed to him.
“I’m afraid you won’t find any silverware,” he hesitated, and Schuldig sensed apprehension; it turned out to be that the man wasn’t sure he could properly pronounce the German’s name. He decided to skip it. “You’ll have some when you eat in the cafeteria, but for the moment, Aya here isn’t allowed, and it would be too much of a temptation.”
Aya sniffed at that, effectively retrieving Sai’s attention.
Well, that explained the spoon comment. Schuldig grinned as he drew the memory from Toma’s mind: Aya had a dark-haired orderly by the collar, and held at his throat was a plastic spoon, the handle broken into a sharp point that bit into the orderly’s bleeding neck.
“I want to eat out there,” Aya demanded.
“Can’t.”
“Then I’m not eating,” was the petulant reply.
Toma looked distressed at this, but Sai just shook his head.
“Your choice. We did that last week though.”
“Fuck you,” Aya replied.
Sai just shrugged, walking to the door. Schuldig noted that despite his air of ease, one eye was kept constantly on the redhead, and his back wasn’t turned until after Toma had opened the door. They left without further comment, and the bolt slid loudly into place.
Aya was still glaring at the place they had been, and Schuldig didn’t need to use his power to know that the man was debating on exactly how to kill the orderlies.
Deciding that it wasn’t the best time to strike up conversation, he turned his attention to the covered platic tray and lifted off the lid. It wasn’t too bad, not fine dining by any means, but a step or two above the institutional-grade shit they’d been giving him the last few days. Although, he wasn’t quite sure how to go about eating the thin, rolled eggs without a fork.
There was a noise of movement, and he looked up to see Aya lay back on the bed, staring at him.
Finding himself suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny, Schuldig looked down to open the carton of juice. He’d rather have coffee, but, if his guess was correct, Aya was probably not allowed around anything hot at the moment.
“Is it poisoned?” he asked with a grin, lifting one of the eggs between his fingers.
Aya shook his head no.
With a shrug, Schuldig did his best to the slippery thing in his mouth, finding himself in need of the napkin afterwards.
“Damn. Couldn’t you have used a hanger or something? I fell like a caveman.”
That got a smile, Aya apparently back in a better mood as he shifted around to sit on the bed.
Thinking the bowl of rice was a hopeless cause, he took the toast and left the rest. Aya’s food remained untouched.
“You’re seriously not gonna eat?”
“No.”
That said, he got off the bed and, after a detour to turn off the overhead lights, stalked to the closet. Pulling off his shirt, he held it in his left hand and used the other to slide open the door.
Well, the not eating explained why the man looked thinner than last time they had met. It was surprising, Schuldig thought, that he retained so much muscle tone, his arms small but obviously strong, his waist thin but with the gently defined abs of an athlete. Abyssinian was a fascinating creature.
Chewing the dry toast, he watched Aya shuffle a surprisingly diverse collection of clothes (all on plastic hangers that couldn’t be removed from the rod) and take out a black t-shirt. He pulled it over his head, leaving his hair even more disordered than before; it stuck up in the back, and the eartails were frizzed. It was odd, Abyssinian always being put together, sleek and showy even as he tried to gut you.
Now he was pulling out some pants, black. A pair of underwear were produced from a wicker basket in the bottom of the closet. Both items rested over his arm as he undid the button and zip of the leather pants.
Then Schuldig found himself under scrutiny.
“Don’t watch,” Aya ordered.
Schuldig rolled his eyes at the modesty but turned around to face the wall, finishing the last of his breakfast as he listened to the other dress behind him. When he got bored of staring at the white wall a bare minute later, he snuck a peek just in time to see the snug black pants being pulled over trim hips, noting absently that Aya’s underwear were of the black silk variety.
“All black today?” he questioned.
Aya’s head whipped around, hands still gripping the two sides of the button fly.
“I said not to watch!”
“Sorry, too tempting.”
Aya glared at him, simultaneously buttoning his pants. When this was done, he walked over and punched Schuldig hard just below the shoulder. Quick to react, the German shoved him back, undeterred when Aya didn’t fall. He stood; Aya smiled.
Schuldig stopped, dropped his hands, and grinned.
“No?” Aya asked.
“Not today,” he answered, flopping back on the bed. “Would be fun, though.”
Aya shrugged. Then, with perfect calm, “Don’t watch me when I change or I’ll tell them you’re trying to sleep with me.”
“Who says I’m not?”
A raised eyebrow, but he remained generally indifferent as he tried to smooth down his hair, “If Mitzu hears that, you’ll go to three.”
“Three?”
“Sex offenders. Criminally insane.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Constant supervision.”
Oh, well that was unpleasant. About to ask what would keep him from reversing the threat, he heard the bolt slide again. The same two men stepped in, this time carrying a pair of pair of plastic handcuff ties.
“Schuldig, Dr. Setsuya wants to see you at nine,” Sai stated, not unfriendly. He had practiced the name. “Do you want to go to the facilities before we go up?”
He shrugged, having wondered how such necessities were handled. As he allowed Sai to place the thin bands around his wrists, he decided he wouldn’t be staying long. Not when they didn’t get their own private bathroom. Maybe Bradley could fix it.
~*~
After using the restroom with an indifferent Sai looking on, Schuldig had been glad to brush his teeth, even if the toothbrush was a cheap, soft thing. They didn’t offer him a hairbrush, so he made due with raking through his tangled mane with his fingers and tossing it back over his shoulder. He wasn’t exactly a stunning picture in the white sweatsuit, but maybe he had enough natural charm to carry it off.
He was led up three flights of stairs and shown into a small, sparsely decorated office. A middle-aged Japanese woman sat behind a large, wooden desk; her dark hair was tied back efficiently at her neck, and a pair of reading glasses rested on her head. She wasn’t what he would call attractive, but she might have passed for okay ten years ago, maybe, before the crows feet began to sneak around her eyes and her lips began to thin. Shuffling a few folders, she gestured to the leather chair in front of her desk.
The cuffs were removed from his wrists, but an orderly he didn’t know was left in the room.
“I hope you are finding our facility adequate?” she asked without looking at him.
“Yeah,” he returned, already trying to slip inside her thoughts. Immediately he was assaulted by list after list of things she had to do, as if the woman was perpetually keeping herself on task by reiterating the minutia of her position. He saw flickering images of himself, subsumed almost instantly by folders and forms.
“Very good.” Putting down her pen, she looked up at him. “I’m Dr. Setsuya, the administrator here. I have ultimate say in most decisions, including discharge.”
Yeah, yeah, you control my fate, he thought, but smiled and nodded.
“There are five psychiatrists here. You will be under the care of Dr. Mitzu and will have two private sessions a week with her. Additionally, while on level four of our privilege system, you will be required to attend four small group sessions a week and one large group session. Small groups meet with various doctors, and I handle the large group meeting on Thursdays. As you progress, you will be given more control over your time.
“You are currently located on floor six, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You will have an evaluation later today, and if everything goes well, you will be moved to four or five.”
“Moved?” he questioned.
She nodded, “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, floor six is a rather restrictive level reserved for new patients and those who are…resistant to treatment.”
Her thoughts said more, providing images of locked doors and long sighs, of sessions that went nowhere, and of one dark haired woman in a straight jacket who threw herself repeatedly against a padded wall.
“Resistant?” he asked, just to bide time as he prodded her thoughts for information on Abyssinian.
“Though we do our best to provide care and treatment for all our patients, there are those that simply….”
He lost track of her words as he sifted through images connected with what she was saying. The dark haired woman was back, chewing on a strand of her long hair as she sat in a corner. An emaciated girl with chopped, blonde hair cutting her arm with the tab from a soda can. A short, wrinkled man who talked only to the television screen in a language no one else knew. Nothing about Aya.
“And my roommate?” he questioned.
She looked back to the desk, shuffled a few papers, then started a little before clearing her throat.
“Don’t worry, there’s no need for you to continue to room with him.”
Schuldig moved quickly, pressing harder than he should have to catch the thoughts that came up while her focus was on the redhead. Most prominent was the memory of his hard glare. Then, a brief flash, Aya sitting in the corner of his room, thin, bandaged arms drawn to his chest, threatening to kill whoever got close to him. The spoon incident was there, but it was vague and fuzzy, something that had probably been reported to her.
“ I don’t mind,” he smiled, trying to be charming and simultaneously tweaking her mind so that the idea of having the two of them together was extremely attractive.
“He’s unstable,” she all but whispered, suddenly unsure.
“Yes, but so am I.”
~tbc~
Scribble a review on the padded walls before you go?
Converting /tmp/phpO7qKwR to /dev/stdout