Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mortituri te Salutant ❯ A Door Opening into a Darkness he had in his Keeping ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and all its associations belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß.

Mortituri te Salutant

Chapter 2 : A Door Opening into a Darkness he had in his Keeping

By : Tora-uma

Author Notes :

". . ." - speaking

^. . .^ - inner thoughts

//. . .// - telepathy

Thanks to Tygrrlyli and wannabeinanime, both who reviewed the last chapter (though yours seems to have disappeared Megan, I don't know what happened) and to everyone who's read this so far.

Ken still struggled with the bonds that kept him tied to the bed. His wrists were bleeding profusely; he'd rubbed off most of the skin under the handcuffs. His ankles were raw but, as they'd been tied to allow enough room for his knees to be drawn up, he hadn't been able to work them enough to put them in the same state as his wrists. He could feel his body tiring; his injuries from the mission were beginning to take their toll. The sharp pains he felt every time he inhaled made him suspect cracked and broken ribs. Ken felt lightheaded and paused, trying not to pass out. He barely heard Schuldig walk into the room.

"Che, you've been busy. I'm surprised you're still conscious." Schuldig climbed up and sat on the bed next to Ken, inspecting his wrists. He gently wrapped gauze around them, padding and protecting them against the metal.

"Why are you doing this?" Ken asked slowly, still trying to stay awake.

"Which part? The capturing, the healing or what I'm planning on doing later?" Schuldig gave him a sadistic smile.

"All of it. Why can't . . ." Ken dissolved into a short coughing fit, feeling his lungs strain against his injured ribcage. "Why can't you just leave us alone?"

"There's no fun in that," Schuldig told him as he finished with Ken's wrists and slid down to inspect his ankles. These two were wrapped in gauze and, finished, Schuldig tossed the rest of the bandaging on the floor. He ran a hand up Ken's side, watching as the brunette jerked at the sudden contact. Ken eyed Schuldig warily, fully awake now.

With a small grin Schuldig straddled Ken's hips, amused when the other tried to buck him off.

"Stop it, get off me," Ken demanded. Schuldig ignored him and traced a line down his body, starting at his chin and slowly dragging his finger down. He admired the feel of a lean and muscular chest and stomach before stopping at the belly button, drawing circles around it lazily. Ken closed his eyes and turned away, hoping the German would somehow disappear if he willed it hard enough.

//I'm not going away so you'd better get used to it.//

Ken's eyes snapped open when Schuldig spoke inside his head. "I hate that, cut it out!" he growled. Schuldig chuckled.

//I don't think so. Not only is this fun but it also gives me access to all of your thoughts, desires and emotions. There's a funny thing about the human body, it tends to respond to a stimulus automatically no matter how much your conscious brain tries to fight against it.// Schuldig slowly drug his hand up Ken's inner thigh, rewarded from a short gasp and a jerk from the other man. //See? You can't stop your body from reacting to me just as you can't stop your lungs from breathing with your willpower alone.//

"Stop it . . ." Ken whispered.

//Not enjoying yourself? I want to know why.// Schuldig closed his eyes. He concentrated on digging deeper into Ken's mind, sorting through the recent memories and feelings to find the tiny nugget of information that was being kept from him. His eyes jerked open as soon as he realized what it was. //You've got a lover . . . that little blond brat?// Bright orange hair was tossed over a shoulder as Schuldig laughed. "So will you be more receptive, I wonder, if I call you Ken-kun?"

"Urusai!" Ken screamed and bucked violently, managing to throw Schuldig off balance.

"You know, he's still alive. With Farfarello right now, if I'm not mistaken."

Ken felt his stomach lurch and briefly thought he would throw up. "If anything happens to him, I promise you'll all pay," he managed to whisper and growl menacingly at the same time. Schuldig might have given a brief moment of worry at the brunette's tone if he wasn't confident that he was in complete control. As it was, he was only slightly irritated by Ken's defiance. But only slightly. ^After all, the more he resists, the longer I get to break him,^ he thought. He traced Ken's jaw line with his forefinger and gradually bushed it against his lips. Ken tried desperately to bite it.

Schuldig tapped his nose in a firm warning. "Careful kitten, you're only allowed to bite when I say so."

"Fuck off."

A chuckle came from the back of the telepath's throat. "Oh, I intend to," he answered, rocking his hips suggestively. Ken watched in fascination as Schuldig unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and tossed them aside. The redhead made sure the man beneath him got a very good show and Ken barely restrained the flash of heat that tried to go straight to his groin. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore what was happening.

Hands suddenly ran over the brunette's tight abdomen slowly, stopping again at the belly button. Schuldig slipped off the bed and Ken warily cracked one eye to see what his captor was planning next. The eye quickly shut again and Ken turned his head away as he saw the German begin to toy with the button of his pants.

^This can't really be happening.^

//It can and is,// Schuldig told him as he climbed back on top of the other assassin. The lack of clothing between their bodies was painfully obvious to Ken as he gritted his teeth and buried his face in his arm.

"Look at me, Ken-kun," Schuldig sang to him.

"Go away," came the muffled reply.

"You're not helping anything by doing this. Now look at me."

Ken's face remained buried in his arm and Schuldig's eyes narrowed. "Fine, if that's the way you want it . . ." Schuldig sat back on Ken's thighs and stroked the sex in front of him. Ken inhaled sharply at the intimate contact as the Schwarz member continued to pet him.

^Omi . . . gomen Omi . . .^ Ken tried to control himself, refusing to react to the ministrations being applied to him. Schuldig ran his thumb up the shaft in his hand, slowly rubbing the small slit at the head. Ken began to harden and unconsciously pushed further into the hands holding him. Schuldig continued with one hand, gently lifting Ken's legs up with the other. He watched his toy's face the entire time, watching for any hint of realization of what would be done to him.

Ken was lost within the whirling emotions in his head, only half aware of what was being done to him. When he felt Schuldig's finger penetrate him he cried out and shifted to impale himself further. "Aww . . . Ken-kun," Schuldig mocked, working his finger deeper inside. The moment Ken heard the voice he ignored the distraction of his own mind and focused on the reality of what was being done to his body. He groaned, trying to twist away from the invading hand. This only succeeded in angering Schuldig who put a hand on each of Ken's hips to still him. Ken struggled more and the telepath used the frantic movement to slip between his legs and prop the brunette's thighs up with his own. He pushed harder on Ken's hips to steady him and thrust forward.

Ken shrieked as the pain threatened to rip his body in two. "This is what you get for working against me, Ken-kun," Schuldig whispered as he pulled out slightly and shoved himself back in, ripping another scream from Ken. He pushed deeper this time, burying himself entirely into the brunette's warmth. With the next thrust he moved a hand up Ken's chest and pushed carefully on his injured ribcage. The combined pain caused Ken to cry out yet again as he continued to fight the bonds keeping him under Schuldig. With each thrust the German found a new injury to apply pressure to, earning him repeated screams from the man beneath him.

Ken's throat began to dry and his voice cracked. His screams came out as weak choking noises as Schuldig finally came, spilling his warm seed into Ken. It wasn't until after he'd pulled out that the redhead noticed the blood coating both of them.

"Hmm . . . guess I went a little too hard," he mused as he looked down at Ken. The younger man was panting heavily, trembling and covered in sweat. His shoulders shook from the effort of breathing, face still buried in one arm. "Don't worry, Ken-kun, it's over with for now. And next time, if you behave better, I might let you enjoy it," Schuldig told him as he dressed himself.

"You can't make me enjoy a damn thing," Ken spat back weakly.

"Oh? We'll see kitten," Schuldig left the room quietly and left Ken tied and shaking on the bed.

~ * ~

Omi was trying hard to stay awake. He was tired, wanted nothing more than to sink back into the padding on the wall and slip into unconsciousness, but the danger of the man still sitting across from him was too great. Omi sat with his chin resting on his knees, tense and ready to bolt if Farfarello tried to attack. He tried thinking of a way to get ahold of one of the knives the Irishman was sure to have but everything he'd come up with would result in his immediate death or dismemberment. He refused to die so easily, especially when Ken was being kept somewhere in the house. So he continued to watch, waiting for Farfarello to give him any small opening. Finally he saw a brief opportunity as the other man shifted his weight and sprang at his captor, nearly succeeding in wrestling a knife away.

Farfarello managed to turn Omi at the last moment and slammed him into the wall, driving a long, spike-like knife through the Weiß assassin's left hand and into the wall. Omi cried out and reached automatically to pull the knife out but Farfarello calmly grabbed his other hand and pinned that, too, to the wall.

Omi's arms were stretched straight from his shoulders to their full length. His hands were far enough away from his body that there was no dip at all in either arm and he immediately began to feel the ache of limbs being kept in an abnormal position. He struggled against the metal that kept his upper body immobilized. He strained against them desperately, hoping to gain enough leverage to pry them out of the wall but they were imbedded too deeply and refused to move. Blood dripped from the wounds and ran down the underside of his arms, dropping slowly onto the clean, white floor as Omi continued to struggle. Farfarello sat back on his heels to watch the scene before him. Omi gave one final jerk on his hands and sank against the wall, realizing that tears were falling from his clear blue eyes.

"Why are you crying?" Farfarello asked. "If you can't even handle this pain you won't last long."

"I'm not crying for me!" Omi shouted. "Why have you brought us here? Where's Ken-kun?"

Farfarello ignored Omi's questions and pulled out another thin knife, drawing a shallow line in Omi's skin on each cheek. Omi's anger welled up, preventing him from feeling the sting of the metal.

"God hurts those he loves," Farfarello told him as he swiftly cut off Omi's dark T-shirt. "That's why I stopped feeling pain." He threw the ruined pieces of fabric away and gently scraped Omi's bare chest with the tip of the knife. Omi watched the point graze the skin, wondering how long it would take for Farfarello to get bored and just kill him.

Farfarello slipped the knife between Omi's two lowest ribs, stopping just before he punctured a major organ. Omi hissed and jumped. The Irishman continued up the right side of the boy's body, making shallow stab wounds between each rib, and carried over down the left side. Omi jumped less with each wound, the pain of each mark numbing him to the pain of the next. The marks bled, not enough to be life-threatening, they were too shallow. Farfarello wanted to avoid overly dangerous wounds for the time being.

Starting just above Omi's belly button, the Schwarz member began another cut that went all the way to the base of the boy's neck, about even with the collarbones. He could just see the clean white of the sternum glowing through the cut. Deciding to ignore the torso for the time being, he moved down to Omi's legs. He began to remove Omi's shoes and socks when the blond kicked at him. With a quick grab and some pressure Farfarello managed to capture both small feet between his knees. He shoved the knife into each of Omi's knees in turn, slitting most of the ligaments and rendering both of the lower legs virtually useless. As his legs were disabled Omi bit through his lip and barely managed to stifle his scream.

So far, Farfarello was rather impressed by the young assassin's resistance to pain. At this rate the boy would last much longer than anyone in Schwarz had thought he would. Farfarello carefully slit open Omi's shin, revealing the pale bone. It glistened sickeningly in the pale light of the cell as the wound slowly pooled and filled with blood. He pushed down on the wound, rolling his hands from the outside of Omi's legs towards the cut, displacing the blood and letting it overflow onto the leg and his long, pale hands. Omi watched as Farfarello slowly licked the blood off his thin fingers, leaving the faint trace of a red stain behind. Farfarello carefully cupped Omi's face in one recently cleaned hand and made two small wounds, one just below each cerulean eye. The droplets of blood followed the same path down the boy's cheeks as his tears had earlier, making him cry tears of blood.

Omi shook slightly, wondering how long it would take him to completely bleed out. None of the wounds so far were life-threatening by themselves but, given enough time, they would eventually empty him of his life. Farfarello brushed Omi's dark blond hair from his eyes and stared into their bright depths. "Do you understand now, little angel?" he asked. "This is the pain of life when you have been forsaken by God."

~ * ~

"Asuka?" Yohji stared at the dark-haired woman in front of him. "How . . . ?" He watched her, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. She smiled and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his slender waist.

"Yohji! Where have you been?"

" I . . . I don't know . . ." he trailed off as he placed one hand on her back. He tried to remember what had happened and why Asuka was here. The only thing that came to his mind was a sudden explosion and a falling sensation and then . . . nothing but black. "Asuka," Yohji backed away from her, breaking the embrace. "Where are we? How did we get here?"

"I've been waiting for you, Yohji."

"But where is here?" he demanded. Asuka looked at him, puzzled.

"This is home. We've always been here," she told him, motioning behind her. Yohji looked to where she gestured and saw a small house he could have sworn wasn't there a moment before. Yohji felt as his hand was clasped and let himself be led to the house.

"I've almost finished dinner, Anata. Come in and wash up."

Yohji saw the glinting gold band on Asuka's left hand and found its mate on his own. His mind reeled in confusion. He could remember nothing before that solitary explosion and even that seemed nothing more than a quickly fading dream. He followed Asuka into the house and let her sit him into a dining room chair. From his seat he could see inside the tiny kitchen where Askua seemed to be busying herself with dinner preparations. He watched her carefully, trying to determine why her doting and devoted actions seemed so out of place. His jaw slackened and fell open slightly when he realized that he could remember nothing about Asuka save her name and appearance.

"Asuka, how . . ." Yohji began before his entire body froze up and refused to listen to him. Asuka had her back to him and didn't hear him speak. Yohji's body moved on its own, standing silently from his chair and stalking towards the kitchen. Yohji sat inside himself, horrified that he could do nothing but watch his body act completely independent of his mind. He felt the thin wire he was holding expertly between his fingers and caught the faint glow of the light on it at the bottom of his vision. He tried to force his throat to make noise, to call out to Asuka and warn her. But his body didn't comply. He stood just behind her slim figure as she continued happily with her cooking.

Yohji's hands looped the harigane around her neck quickly and pulled it taut. The tension pulled her body back against him as she sputtered and wheezed, trying to force air into her lungs. He could feel her entire body shudder against his as his hands continued to tighten the wire. She grasped blindly at the wire, trying to pry her fingers underneath and get it away from her neck. She continued to scrape her nails against the wire even though she could get no leverage on it.

"Yo . . . Yohji . . ." she managed to gasp out before her hands finally fell away and sagged at her sides.

"ASUKA!" he finally managed to scream as her dead weight slumped against him. He sank to the floor with her body as he regained control of his body, sobbing as he held her tightly.

"Wonderful performance."

Yohji's head spun around at the sound of the voice to see Crawford standing behind him. Realizing the danger he was in, Yohji quickly stood and prepared to defend himself with his harigane.

"No need for that," Crawford held up a hand. "You can't attack me with it anyway."

"And why is that?" Yohji demanded, refusing to let his guard down.

"Because all of this," Crawford motioned around, "is a mental illusion. None of it is taking place in the physical world. And I can control all of it," Crawford smirked. Yohji stared at the American, not quite willing to believe it. "Think about it," Crawford told him. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I . . . I remember an explosion, barely, and then . . . this happened," Yohji said, motioning down to where Asuka's body lay. To his surprise, she slowly faded away, leaving nothing but black.

"That explosion knocked you into a coma. And because of that, I can now enter and exit your mind at will, manipulating everything you experience and every memory and emotion you have. For example, your failed mission with Weiß," Crawford said as he casually waved his hand toward Yohji.

Images and memories came flooding back to Yohji. He clearly remembered the other three members of Weiß, he remembered every mission they'd been on, he remembered the real Asuka . . . and Neu. Glancing down at where Asuka's body had lain at his feet he directed another question at Crawford. "Why does this feel so real, then, if it's all fake?"

"I never said it was fake. Just because it's not happening in what we've come to see as the physical or `real' world does not mean that it's not real to your mind. If I were to kill you right here," Crawford pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it straight at Yohji's heart, "it's quite probable that your physical body would shut down as well. But where would the fun be in that?" Crawford smirked again and placed the gun back in its holster.

"Why are you telling me this? Now that I know this is just a mind trick I can fight it."

"Two reasons. First, I can still control all of this, no matter how much you know. After all, I made you kill your lost love, didn't I?" A ghost-like image of Asuka appeared behind Crawford for a moment before fading back into the darkness. "Second, you still don't believe me, not entirely. And I think I'll enjoy proving the gravity of the situation to you." With a final smirk and an adjustment of his glasses, Crawford faded from view, leaving Yohji in a sea of black.

~ * ~

Aya felt a hand gently brush back his hair and he opened his eyes.

"Ohayou, Abyssinian," Manx told him.

"Any word on the others?" Aya demanded. Manx shook her head. He struggled slightly to sit up, noting that there was far less pain involved in the action today. Manx sat in the chair next to his bed and pulled a book from her briefcase, handing it to him. He took it carefully, quickly reading the cover. "Heart of Darkness? What's this?" he asked as he raised one crimson eyebrow.

"I heard you wanted something to read. Have you read it before?"

Aya shook his head to indicate that he hadn't.

"Well, it's not long; you should be able to finish it quickly."

"Arigatoh," Aya told her, placing the book on his lap.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Less sore. I should be well enough to go after the others."

"Aya . . ."

"No more arguments. Tomorrow night I'm going after them."

Manx nodded slightly, knowing that short of drugging and locking him up there was no way to stop him. She doubted that even those extremes would hold him for long. In truth, she wanted him to go after the others, though she'd never admit it. Thinking of what Schwarz could be doing with the other three killed her inside. Aya and Manx sat in silence for a moment until a nurse came in, carrying a tray of food. She set up the tray for Aya to eat, checked his I.V. and left the two alone again. Aya cautiously poked at the cold, unappetizing food that had been given to him.

"I hate Jello," he mumbled quietly. Manx laughed, barely picking up what he said, and dug around in her briefcase for a brief moment, eventually coming up with a box of rice crackers. She handed Aya the snack.

"Do you normally carry everything imaginable in your briefcase?" he asked as he bit into a cracker.

"Old habit. You wouldn't believe what I carried around when Omi was still living with me. Bits of wire, spare tools, candy . . ." She trailed off, remembering the somewhat happier days when she was raising Omi. After Persia had rescued him from the kidnappers Takatori Reiji had abandoned him to, he and Manx had realized that Persia couldn't take care of the boy without his brother finding out. Manx had offered to take the boy, becoming something of a surrogate mother to him in place of his old family. A bittersweet smile appeared on her face. "Aya?"

He looked up from the box of rice crackers when Manx whispered his name.

"Find them . . . onegai . . ." her voice cracked and she lowered her head, unable to look at the assassin before her.

"I will," he nodded and placed a hand over her clasped ones. She smiled at him briefly before standing up.

"I should get back to work. Rest well," she ordered as she collected her things and left. Pushing the tray of hospital food away so that he no longer had to look at it, Aya opened the book Manx had brought him and began reading, still munching on the box of rice crackers.

"The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down to the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide.

"The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth . . ."

Aya lost himself in the spell of the story as a dark, cloudy mist settled over the city, obscuring the early morning light and creating a realm of anomalous darkness.