Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Neutral Territory ❯ Beginning to Pick up the Pieces ( Chapter 29 )

Title: Neutral Territory [part 29/?]

Author: Enigma

Written: begun October, 2001

Rating: R

Pairings: (Omi + Nagi) (Yohji + Ken) (Brad + Schu)

Category: Shonen ai/Yaoi Angst Friendship Romance Action Violence. AU-OOC. Giftfic.

Archive: fanfiction.net & mediaminer.org [author: "E-sama the Llama"] plus Wuffie.net [author: "Enigma"]

Warnings: shonen ai/yaoi, angst, masculine friendship in many forms, various levels of romance, action, coarse language, whiffs of citrus but nothing detailed, possibly graphic violence, bloodshed, tiny bits of humor, fluff, and sap; more warnings will be added as necessary. AU-OOC. Giftfic for Rubious.

Spoilers: Aya's sister's condition and a few other small things, nothing major.

Disclaimer: "Weiss Kreuz" is the property of Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. All original characters featured herein (including but not limited to: Glocksten, Charon, etc.) are © Enigma, 2003, and are not to be used without permission. This unauthorized work of fanfiction is intended for entertainment only; kindly do not sue me.

Notes: Omi's first trip to the public library results in an unexpected meeting when Nagi saves his life without being aware of the Weiss archer's identity. Can two lonely teens overcome the limits of their dark purpose in life to find friendship and possibly love in the midst of "neutral territory"?

//thoughts//

{{mental speech}}

*****

Sunday very early morning. Various locations in Komagome Hospital.

*****

For the men of Weiss and Schwarz, two hours passed agonizingly slowly following the bloody conflict outside "The White Dog" nightclub that left two vile criminals dead and three accomplished assassins injured to varying extents.

As a large group of talented surgeons desperately strove to save the fading life of Tsukiyono Omi in Komagome Hospital's main operating room, a smaller group worked equally diligently on repairing Naoe Nagi's left arm. Unlike the blond whose horrendous wounds were definitely life-threatening, the sable-haired boy was very nearly guaranteed a full recovery and yet this was of little comfort to him.

While inserting the last of the many sutures required to close the bullet wound in Nagi's upper arm, the surgeon informed an intern standing nearby, "Once I'm finished here, I want the patient moved to the recovery room and another unit of blood should be administered." Drug hazed orbs the color of lapis lazuli peered out from under heavy eyelids and Nagi moaned slightly, inspiring an additional comment of, "Just relax, Naoe. You'll be fine again in no time."

Shaking his head wearily, Nagi disagreed saying, "No, I won't be." The local anesthesia that kept him from feeling any of the extensive poking and prodding necessary to close a nicked artery as well as to repair various muscle groups had been supplemented with a light sedative which left him vulnerable enough to add, "Not unless Omi is okay, too."

"'Omi'?" The doctor echoed curiously even as he set aside his tools and moved aside to allow a nurse to begin applying the thick bandages necessary to protect the newly closed wound.

"That's the other young gunshot victim being worked on in OR-1, doctor," a voice replied as the head of the anesthesiology department walked in to make sure all was well for the less injured of her two patients of the moment.

Nagi turned his head slightly hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who had spoken and noted a frowning middle-aged woman who he asked, "How is he doing? Will he be all right?"

Stepping closer, the woman shook her head and said sadly, "I'm afraid it's much too early to say, son." With an unhappy sigh, she added as kindly as she could, "I've never seen anyone suffer quite so much damage and live, but I've also never seen a patient arrive that severely torn up and yet not bled dry. Some kind of miracle must've kept him from bleeding to death on the way here."

Despite the fact that he'd just been reassured that the extreme effort he'd put into using his telekinesis to reduce Omi's bleeding after Charon had shot him twice very nearly pointblank, Nagi found no solace in the anesthesiologist's words. Firmly refusing to allow himself to break down and cry right there on the operating table, he let his eyes slip shut once more before he said quietly, "If he doesn't live, then I don't want to either."

A helpful voice in the back of Nagi's mind pointed out how easy it would be to use his powers to tear out every last one of the stitches holding his injured arm together. If the admitting nurse's comment about the belt-cum-tourniquet that Schuldich had put on him was correct and he could've bled to death en route to the hospital, he had an easy solution should suicide be determined to be preferable to life without the boy who had introduced him to true joy.

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" The surgeon asked as he stripped off his bloodied gloves and placed them in a biohazardous waste container before adding something Nagi would've considered a bland platitude if his mind had been clearer, "Besides, where there is life there is hope. He has the best surgeons our hospital has to offer working on him right now and will have every chance to survive that they can give him."

"This is quite true," the anesthesiologist interjected, then lightly touched Nagi's shoulder for only a moment to get him to open his eyes before she added, "For now, though, you need to focus on yourself and let us do our own jobs. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?" Noting two somewhat unfocused dark blue eyes were peering at her hand, she extended a pair of fingers.

"Um, two?" Nagi said uncertainly, then added, "They're really fuzzy, though."

Nodding and then jotting a notation on her patient's chart, the anesthesiologist commented, "That's because of the sedative we gave you combined with your decreased blood level. Your vision should be fine in a few hours, though, so don't worry about it."

"Oh, all right," Nagi replied dispiritedly.

"He can be taken to recovery now," the woman instructed and after he was transferred to a gurney, Nagi was taken into a large, softly lit area where a nurse would monitor his vital signs and he would nervously await word of Omi's progress.

After the Schwarz psychic had been taken from the room, the surgeon turned to the anesthesiologist and asked, "Just between you and me, how *is* the other boy doing?"

Heaving a tired sigh, the woman shook her head and replied, "It doesn't look good, I'm afraid. Both lungs have entry as well as exit wounds, there is damage to his liver, spleen, and several other organs, plus his diaphragm and quite a few ribs are torn up fairly badly. If he survives the night, it will be quite a surprise, but it would take something truly incredible for him to recover completely."

"That bad?" The doctor asked. When the woman nodded, he sighed and commented, "Then we'll need to consider a suicide watch for Naoe if that eventuality comes to pass. For now, though, I believe I need to go let the people waiting on him know how the surgery went. Are they in the waiting room?"

"Yes, and don't forget to speak with the three men who are waiting on Tsukiyono, too. The tall blond one mentioned they were concerned when I passed him outside x-ray while the redhead was being checked over."

"Oh?" The surgeon looked puzzled then shrugged lightly and said, "I had no idea there were quite so many people involved in these two cases, but the boys were apparently shot by the same person, so I guess it makes sense."

After they stepped out of the sterile environment of the operating room, the two physicians went their separate ways. The anesthesiologist returned to the tense atmosphere surrounding Omi's inert form and the doctor made a brief stop to strip off bloodied surgical scrubs and put on something less frightening before talking with whoever wanted to know about Nagi's condition.

At the same moment that the surgeon stepped into the waiting room, so did a trio of men wearing clothes that were unusual for them and whose faces were each a veritable tapestry of emotions yet revealed only a vague fraction of the turmoil each felt.

Since they'd all arrived with blood contaminating their assassins' garb, the men of Weiss and Schwarz both had been commanded to change into some of the unisex scrubs the hospital provided for their personnel and whomever else required it.

There was no hesitation for Aya, Yohji, or Ken all of whom had varying amounts of Glocksten's foul-smelling lifeblood spread upon them after assisting one another from the field of battle as well as into the emergency room in the first place. Crawford was more than glad to be rid of the gory remains of Charon's blood and gray matter. Farfarello who had also been caught in the cascade of organic filth as the murderer had been executed, didn't care one way or the other at the time, but now that he was even closer to his usual relaxed self, he found the drab garments amusing. Only Schuldich had been less than enthusiastic about giving up his stylish ensemble, but whether that was for the sake of fashion or that it was Nagi's blood upon his own clothes was never revealed.

Blood tainted garments weren't the only things the two rival assassin teams had set aside upon their arrival at the hospital, however.

Despite it never once being brought up since neither leader wished to broach the verbal gulf between them first, Aya and Crawford had wordlessly agreed to a truce once Weiss arrived slightly later than Schwarz had. This rendered the hospital more of a demilitarized zone than a true neutral territory, though.

If he hadn't been as out of sorts as he was, it would've taken relatively little to ignite the smoldering rage that had existed in Aya's heart ever since the first time he saw Crawford escorting Takatori Reiji to safety. The swordsman would never forget the powerlessness he'd felt as Ken held him back and prevented him from doing anything even more foolish than launching his katana at the departing helicopter in a vain attempt at preventing his greatest enemy from escaping.

Leading the way although he was now on crutches and looking only slightly less dangerous than normal, Aya's expression was one of anger mixed with a sense of pain that was both physical and emotional as the remaining members of Weiss approached those of Schwarz. He felt betrayed by his body as well as by his youngest teammate, but what he was concealing was the utter confusion he felt after two hours of being treated to Yohji's overprotective nature in a manner Ken alone usually was.

Then again, the older man's brunette lover hadn't been any less subtle about insisting Aya receive medical care when he had initially refused any offers of aid. Eventually, of course, Aya had caved in and allowed the emergency room personnel to do what needed to be done. After extensive x-rays to be absolutely sure there were no broken bones hiding from them, it was determined that he'd severely sprained the same ankle that he'd broken a few months prior as well as straining his right knee in the process.

The proud swordsman had drawn the line at being confined to a wheelchair, however, and now was hobbling along determinedly despite the elastic bandages that did nothing to conceal the fact that his right ankle was now the size of a large cantaloupe and was clearly causing him pain. [1] Because of the way Aya's leg looked as well as the occasional uncomfortable grunt that he couldn't suppress, Yohji and Ken were careful to remain close to him with every step, flanking him like an honor guard as they made their way into the waiting room.

The only bright spot in an otherwise horrifically dark night had been the fact that the unknown stimulants Aya had consumed earlier in an unwise effort to compensate for his sleep-deprived condition had already started to be metabolized and thereby destroyed by his system. Soon, the extreme exhaustion would catch up to him again, but this was better than many of the other options that fate might have chosen for him. [2]

Staying close by Aya as he had almost from the moment they'd arrived, Yohji's elegant features were a mask of concern and determination that was for once unfettered by his omnipresent sunglasses since they, too, had become contaminated by blood.

Alert jade eyes shifted rapidly from Aya's injured leg to Ken's slightly distant expression and back again, as Yohji tried to balance all that he had done since they'd arrived at Komagome Hospital. Having decided while en route that he would take charge of matters, Yohji had forcefully insisted on the medical treatment Aya had refused even as Ken had the worrisome task of staying abreast of the progress of the surgical team who was endeavoring to save Omi's life.

There had been a few harsh words exchanged between himself and the redhead whom he still intended to try to get to smile someday, yet Yohji couldn't bring himself to regret his actions as violet eyes narrowed in pain as Aya's crutches failed him slightly and he nearly stumbled.

"Careful, Aya," Yohji murmured even as he placed a stabilizing and hopefully comforting hand on the slightly shorter man's back.

The soft growl of acknowledgement was far less vehement than it normally would have been and there was a small look of victory in his eyes as Yohji glanced at Ken to see if he'd noted the short exchange.

Unfortunately, Ken's deep brown eyes were still focused on something no one else could see and he missed the actions of the two men he was walking beside as they approached the isolated corner of the waiting room where Schwarz had temporarily taken up residence.

The former goalkeeper was lost in thought and the sorrowful expression on his face was one he was unaware of. Ken was replaying in his mind some of the conversations that he'd had with Omi when he had incorrectly assumed that "Xavier" was just another high school student. He recalled urging his young coworker to have fun and enjoy life with his new found friend and possible love interest, but now he wondered if he hadn't done Omi a terrible disservice by doing so.

Ken felt doubly guilty for his role in promoting Omi and Nagi's blossoming affections as the memory of a man who he himself trusted unwisely when he was the same age as the boy whose lilting alto he might never hear again rose up within him. A flicker of pain crossed his mind as his nails bit into the flesh of his palm where he'd clenched his hand into a fist without realizing it even though thoughts of the lover who had betrayed him always had this effect on Ken. With a sigh, he forced himself to relax, then threw Yohji an apologetic glance even as they approached the corner of the room where Crawford and Schuldich had risen in acknowledgement of the surgeon's arrival.

The slender blond returned the gaze briefly and wordless support passed between them both before they heard the doctor ask, "Are you the men waiting for news about Naoe Nagi?"

"We are," Crawford's commanding baritone replied.

"So are we," Aya stated flatly before leaning heavily on his crutches instead of doing the logical thing and sitting down so that his leg would have less stress on it than it did at the moment. Stubbornly, he refused to show weakness in the presence of his enemies, yet in so doing, he was only making things harder on himself than they needed to be.

Taking a moment to gaze at the six men whose full attentions were upon him, the doctor distantly wondered what exactly had lead to the shootings of the two boys currently in the hospital's care. However, he deferred any inquiry about it to the police detectives who would undoubtedly arrive before too much longer.

Not appreciating the delay, Schuldich inquired archly, "Well? Is there news about Nagi or not?!" The power in his voice and the sense of protectiveness that seemed to radiate from him didn't go unnoticed by anyone there, but only Crawford and Farfarello knew how uncharacteristic such expressions were.

Breaking off the useless train of thought he'd been following, the surgeon cleared his throat and stated, "Yes, there is indeed. The surgery went quite well and he is now resting in the recovery room." He scratched his chin thoughtfully, then explained, "We were able to repair the damaged artery with only a modicum of difficulty. Gladly there was no trauma to the bone, so the only other thing we had to do was some fairly extensive reconstruction of the muscle layers that had been disturbed by the bullet's passing as well as the skin, of course. Oh, and we had to administer a fair amount of blood, too, but I assumed that went without saying."

Crawford nodded once, then asked, "Then the prognosis is good?"

"Definitely." The surgeon smiled and stated, "A full recovery should be only a matter of time, rest, and pain management medication."

"Good!" Schuldich interjected and was about to ask how soon they could speak with Nagi, but the arrival of a hospital volunteer forestalled him.

"Excuse me, doctor," the young woman offered shyly before bowing apologetically and stating, "There's a patient in the recovery room asking for someone named Crawford and someone else he called Aya-kun. Is this the right group of people to check with?"

Even though surprised by the form of address typically Omi alone used for him, Aya never hesitated for a moment before replying flatly, "Yes." Iced amethyst eyes regarded the former boxer who had once enjoyed beating him seemingly mercilessly yet found an absence of enmity in his mahogany eyes that allowed him to add, "We can see him together, right, Crawford?" He placed a slight emphasis on the American's name since he'd not known what it was previously, yet felt like this was the time to address that omission.

Expression carefully neutral despite having noted the attempt at civility and distantly appreciating it, Crawford nodded and replied to both Aya and the volunteer, "Of course, Abyssinian." A very faint trace of apology entered his eyes as he said to his lover, "Schuldich, I want you to stay here and keep an eye on Farfarello. I'd rather not have him wandering around a hospital filled with civilians."

Under other circumstances, willful disagreement would have then entered catlike green eyes, but for once, Schuldich merely shrugged and said, "If that's how you want it, boss, I've got it covered." Beneath his words ran a silent request to listen in on the conversation that was granted easily enough yet would ultimately not come to pass due to other distractions that were about to emerge.

"What about us?" Yohji asked with a frown. Gesturing towards Aya's injured leg and crutches, he wordlessly hoped someone would understand the concern for the swordsman's safety before glancing at Ken for support.

"Yeah," Ken agreed with less strength in his voice than he'd rather have had, "I want to talk to the kid, too."

"I'm sorry, gentlemen," the volunteer said with another little bow, "but hospital policy only allows two visitors per patient at any given time in the recovery room. You'll have to wait to speak with him later."

To forestall the comment Yohji was clearly about to make, Crawford lifted one large hand in offering to watch over the injured redhead to some small extent and stated, "Enough. I believe that Abyssinian and I can handle matters ourselves at this point, Balinese, Siberian." Flashing a glance at Schuldich once more, he added, "Inform me if word comes on Bombay."

Shrugging insouciantly, the telepath commented airily, "Sure, sure." Seriousness returning to his eyes, Schuldich then made a shooing gesture with his hands and said, "Now get going, you're keeping Naggles waiting."

Crawford lifted an eyebrow as if in rebuke, yet sent a quiet expression of appreciation across their mental connection. Then the precognitive adjusted his shiny wire-rimmed glasses prior to following the petite volunteer to the recovery room with Aya hobbling along close enough that he could interfere if he should begin to fall. There was enough tension between the two teams already, he wasn't going to add to it by allowing the Weiss field leader to become injured more severely than he already was if he could prevent it.

Once the young woman leading them was far enough away that their words would be at least somewhat private, Aya quietly returned Crawford's favor of deliberately using his teammates names, and said, "My name is Fujimiya Aya, Crawford. Balinese is Kudou Yohji, Siberian is Hidaka Ken, and Bombay is Tsukiyono Omi." A soft grunt of pain interrupted his words as one crutch failed to move easily, then he continued, "I believe things may be more easily managed if we avoid the use of codenames at this point."

Casting a measuring glance at the swordsman forcing himself to go forward despite his own personal pain and finding unexpected respect for him, Crawford nodded only once then replied in an equally quiet tone, "Agreed, Fujimiya. Not that it matters, but my own given name is Bradley and Naoe's is Nagi. The others have adopted permanent one-word pseudonyms, so it is rather easy to know how to address us."

Amethyst eyes returned the gaze from the corners of Aya's eyes and then with a curt nod, he fell silent and focused on not giving in to the slowly rebuilding sense of exhaustion that had dogged his every step for days by that point.

*****

To be continued.

Author's Notes:

[1] The details concerning Aya's injured ankle and knee are straight from my own experiences except that I was never bullheaded enough to refuse a wheelchair after treatment.

[2] The surprisingly low-key outcome of Aya's unwise use of stimulants is a tiny offering from Melpomene to the fans who were begging for him not to suffer too greatly for being a stubborn idiot about not staying home and resting. Yes, it could've been much worse, but it isn't and hopefully Yanagi-sen and a few other dear friends can now breathe a sigh of relief… Before worrying more about Omi, that is.