Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Pilgrimage ❯ Pilgrimage ( One-Shot )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Ann H 
Prequel to "Walking in London." Brad POV. A glimpse into Crawford's character, and more information about Schuldig's past.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 11.07.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 727 | Status: Completed
Prequel to "Walking in London." Brad POV. A glimpse into Crawford's character, and more information about Schuldig's past.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai | Type: Songfic | Uploaded On: 11.07.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 727 | Status: Completed
Title: Pilgrimage
Author: Ann
Rating: PG-13 for mature themes, mentions of violence. My stories tend to include male/male sexual inclinations and relationships. If you are too young for mature themes, or don't care for this concept, please stop reading now.
Pairings: Slight implications of future BxS
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz characters and all rights belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. This is fan fiction and no profit is made from this endeavor.
Notes: AU. Prequel of sorts to "Walking in London." This time it's Brad's POV. Get a glimpse into Brad Crawford's character, and learn a bit more about Schuldig's past. Thought they went to Rosenkreuz, and were under Esset's control? Think again! Still, if you disregard the Schwarz CD's, this can be considered an alternate timeline leading up to the events in Weiss Kreuz.
"Pilgrimage" is written and performed by Suzanne Vega. The song can be found on her 1990 CD "Days of Open Hand." Lyrics used without permission.
//song lyrics//
{{thoughts}}
Archive: Ask nicely and I'll let you.
Feedback: Feed me! Ann89103@lvcm.com
***
//This line is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every step is a day in the week//
//It's a Sunday or Monday//
//A march over months of the year//
Most people are either oblivious to the passage of time, or in a desperate fight against it. As usual, I'm the exception to the rule.
For me, time is a mentor, a benefactor, almost a friend. I am gifted with glimpses of the future before it occurs, and often change the results to my advantage. Killing and manipulation is so much easier as a result.
I am in control.
//This life is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every death is an end in the race//
//It's a stopping and starting//
//A march over millions of years//
Time may be generous to me, but Death remains unavoidable: still, I enjoy the challenge, relish each hard-fought victory that allows me another day alive and, most importantly, free.
I was supposed to die at age six with my family in a fire.
Three years later I killed my father's business partner before he could molest me.
At thirteen I escaped Esset's first attempt to take me to Rosenkreuz; each retrieval effort of theirs over the next five years met with failure. When I finally met with the Esset Elders, years later, it was on my terms.
Most of my visions are of the near-future, sometimes only minutes in advance. More rare, and far more intriguing to me, are glimpses of long-range events. Those visions are always of major events, with far-reaching consequences. Shortly after meeting with the Elders, the world around me disappeared, and all I saw was him: wild fiery hair, a blending of red and orange; slim, graceful body, that of a dancer or gymnast; eyes of dark turquoise, their depths revealing nothing and promising everything; and finally, that smile, a smile promising both pleasure and pain.
The vision faded and I quickly came back to reality; once again I sat in my hotel room, various Esset files spread across the bed. For a moment I thought I was back in the vision, as one picture captured my attention: there he was, staring boldly into the camera, unafraid.
Schuldig.
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
I've learned over the years never to ignore my visions, and I certainly respect my intuition. This Schuldig was going to have a major effect on my life, so I needed to find out everything about him.
What I found both surprised and intrigued me.
//This land is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every line is a place on a map//
//It's a city or valley//
//A mark on these miles of fields//
In looks and temperament we appear to be opposites, yet our lives have been eerily similar. First I visited Torgau, the German town he lived in when first approached by Esset. There was little information to be found; I saw his birth certificate, school records and his parent's graves. I also saw the police records regarding his parent's deaths, along with six unidentified men.
I visited the house, barely standing after all these years, almost lost amid unending fields of golden wheat. I only foresee the future, not the past, but the aging, rotting wood, still bearing the marks of gunfire, told the story.
A terrified fourteen year-old boy escaped that day, leaving few clues and no memories. The police records indicated the dead couple had no children; none of the teachers remembered the exuberant teenager that sang the lead in school musicals and won track events; for all intents and purposes, there was no Alexander Dominik Brandt.(1)
There was only guilt: Schuldig, one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, and he was running hard.
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Esset's notes were almost useless at this point: every team they sent out, whether gifted or not, was unsuccessful. The lucky ones returned to Rosenkreuz, confused wanderers with their short-term memory completely erased, or safely dead within the confines of a pine box. The only information gained was the one photo of a smiling, arrogant killer.
Roughly half of the teams never returned.
//This line is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every step is a day in the week//
//It's a Wednesday or Thursday//
//A march over months of the year//
With no recent visions of my quarry, I instead turned to research. Starting with the area surrounding Torgau, I searched through police reports, newspaper headlines, hospital admissions: there I found reports of mysterious deaths, attributed to strokes or brain hemorrhages; a rash of amnesia cases; and a marked increase in mental hospital admissions of people foreign to the area.
The cases led from Torgau to the west, Munich, Bonn, then eventually back to the east to Leipzig, a much larger city, with a population well over 200,000. The city--once a savaged casualty of World War II--was now a cultural center, a home for artists and intellectuals. I spent days wandering through narrow streets, viewing cathedrals, practicing my German, trusting my instincts, and soon enough, the vision came: he stood still, microphone in hand, exquisite eyes closed in concentration, lips moving. I only see, not hear, and for a moment I cursed the lack, then focused on the lit neon sign over the stage that said "Strandbad Mitte." Within an hour I was there, a collection of bars, restaurants and galleries.
It took another forty-five minutes of searching before I found Schoppenstube (2), the largest gay bar in the city. The cheerful bartender I questioned informed me Schuldig's set had finished a half hour ago, and that he had already left the club, much to the disappointment of the patrons.
Close, so close. I grit my teeth in frustration immediately left the building. The image of Schuldig from my first vision came back to me, this time his smile taunting me, the eyes mocking me.
{{He doesn't even know me, but he's already pissed me off. I promise you this, guilty one: you will never see me coming.}}
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
I make my way back to the latest hotel room: one hot shower and one cold beer later I'm staring out the window, lights off, staring into nothingness. And then, in a vision, there he was...
Jeans and a sweater. A backpack and a small carry-on. Tiny bulge under the sweater indicating a handgun, though no-one notices, no doubt due to his telepathy. Airport counter...Virgin Airlines. Destination: London. He smirks at the attendant, then strides onto the airplane.
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Another vision: another hotel room, God knows where. I'm standing there, waiting, as Schuldig walks in the door. The surprise on his face is a welcome sight as I move forward and kiss him breathless. I'm the one shocked now; I *don't* let people get to me, emotions are dangerous in my profession. People are there to be used, whether it's for power, money or sexual release.
I slump back in my seat, take another sip of my beer. It must be part of my future plans, to throw Schuldig off-balance, to secure his cooperation. It can't be anything else. I won't let it be anything else.
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Yes, that must be it, part of a plan. After all, my visions never lie.
I am in control.
***
End notes: I have never been to Germany, and my geography is probably off-base. I apologize for any confusion. The information about Leipzig is real, obtained through Yahoo Groups.
(1) Alexander and Dominik are among the most popular names for boys in Germany over the last decade. I just liked the names. The surname Brandt translates into "fire." I thought that was appropriate.
Let's hope Farfarello doesn't look into this: Alexander means "defender of men" and Dominik "belonging to God." Makes you wonder what could have been...
(2) Schoppenstube is indeed a large gay bar/nightclub in Germany, but it is really located in Berlin.
Author: Ann
Rating: PG-13 for mature themes, mentions of violence. My stories tend to include male/male sexual inclinations and relationships. If you are too young for mature themes, or don't care for this concept, please stop reading now.
Pairings: Slight implications of future BxS
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz characters and all rights belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss. This is fan fiction and no profit is made from this endeavor.
Notes: AU. Prequel of sorts to "Walking in London." This time it's Brad's POV. Get a glimpse into Brad Crawford's character, and learn a bit more about Schuldig's past. Thought they went to Rosenkreuz, and were under Esset's control? Think again! Still, if you disregard the Schwarz CD's, this can be considered an alternate timeline leading up to the events in Weiss Kreuz.
"Pilgrimage" is written and performed by Suzanne Vega. The song can be found on her 1990 CD "Days of Open Hand." Lyrics used without permission.
//song lyrics//
{{thoughts}}
Archive: Ask nicely and I'll let you.
Feedback: Feed me! Ann89103@lvcm.com
***
//This line is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every step is a day in the week//
//It's a Sunday or Monday//
//A march over months of the year//
Most people are either oblivious to the passage of time, or in a desperate fight against it. As usual, I'm the exception to the rule.
For me, time is a mentor, a benefactor, almost a friend. I am gifted with glimpses of the future before it occurs, and often change the results to my advantage. Killing and manipulation is so much easier as a result.
I am in control.
//This life is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every death is an end in the race//
//It's a stopping and starting//
//A march over millions of years//
Time may be generous to me, but Death remains unavoidable: still, I enjoy the challenge, relish each hard-fought victory that allows me another day alive and, most importantly, free.
I was supposed to die at age six with my family in a fire.
Three years later I killed my father's business partner before he could molest me.
At thirteen I escaped Esset's first attempt to take me to Rosenkreuz; each retrieval effort of theirs over the next five years met with failure. When I finally met with the Esset Elders, years later, it was on my terms.
Most of my visions are of the near-future, sometimes only minutes in advance. More rare, and far more intriguing to me, are glimpses of long-range events. Those visions are always of major events, with far-reaching consequences. Shortly after meeting with the Elders, the world around me disappeared, and all I saw was him: wild fiery hair, a blending of red and orange; slim, graceful body, that of a dancer or gymnast; eyes of dark turquoise, their depths revealing nothing and promising everything; and finally, that smile, a smile promising both pleasure and pain.
The vision faded and I quickly came back to reality; once again I sat in my hotel room, various Esset files spread across the bed. For a moment I thought I was back in the vision, as one picture captured my attention: there he was, staring boldly into the camera, unafraid.
Schuldig.
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
I've learned over the years never to ignore my visions, and I certainly respect my intuition. This Schuldig was going to have a major effect on my life, so I needed to find out everything about him.
What I found both surprised and intrigued me.
//This land is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every line is a place on a map//
//It's a city or valley//
//A mark on these miles of fields//
In looks and temperament we appear to be opposites, yet our lives have been eerily similar. First I visited Torgau, the German town he lived in when first approached by Esset. There was little information to be found; I saw his birth certificate, school records and his parent's graves. I also saw the police records regarding his parent's deaths, along with six unidentified men.
I visited the house, barely standing after all these years, almost lost amid unending fields of golden wheat. I only foresee the future, not the past, but the aging, rotting wood, still bearing the marks of gunfire, told the story.
A terrified fourteen year-old boy escaped that day, leaving few clues and no memories. The police records indicated the dead couple had no children; none of the teachers remembered the exuberant teenager that sang the lead in school musicals and won track events; for all intents and purposes, there was no Alexander Dominik Brandt.(1)
There was only guilt: Schuldig, one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, and he was running hard.
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Esset's notes were almost useless at this point: every team they sent out, whether gifted or not, was unsuccessful. The lucky ones returned to Rosenkreuz, confused wanderers with their short-term memory completely erased, or safely dead within the confines of a pine box. The only information gained was the one photo of a smiling, arrogant killer.
Roughly half of the teams never returned.
//This line is burning//
//Turning to ash as it hits the air//
//Every step is a day in the week//
//It's a Wednesday or Thursday//
//A march over months of the year//
With no recent visions of my quarry, I instead turned to research. Starting with the area surrounding Torgau, I searched through police reports, newspaper headlines, hospital admissions: there I found reports of mysterious deaths, attributed to strokes or brain hemorrhages; a rash of amnesia cases; and a marked increase in mental hospital admissions of people foreign to the area.
The cases led from Torgau to the west, Munich, Bonn, then eventually back to the east to Leipzig, a much larger city, with a population well over 200,000. The city--once a savaged casualty of World War II--was now a cultural center, a home for artists and intellectuals. I spent days wandering through narrow streets, viewing cathedrals, practicing my German, trusting my instincts, and soon enough, the vision came: he stood still, microphone in hand, exquisite eyes closed in concentration, lips moving. I only see, not hear, and for a moment I cursed the lack, then focused on the lit neon sign over the stage that said "Strandbad Mitte." Within an hour I was there, a collection of bars, restaurants and galleries.
It took another forty-five minutes of searching before I found Schoppenstube (2), the largest gay bar in the city. The cheerful bartender I questioned informed me Schuldig's set had finished a half hour ago, and that he had already left the club, much to the disappointment of the patrons.
Close, so close. I grit my teeth in frustration immediately left the building. The image of Schuldig from my first vision came back to me, this time his smile taunting me, the eyes mocking me.
{{He doesn't even know me, but he's already pissed me off. I promise you this, guilty one: you will never see me coming.}}
//Travel. Arrival.//
//Years of an inch and a step//
//Toward a source//
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
I make my way back to the latest hotel room: one hot shower and one cold beer later I'm staring out the window, lights off, staring into nothingness. And then, in a vision, there he was...
Jeans and a sweater. A backpack and a small carry-on. Tiny bulge under the sweater indicating a handgun, though no-one notices, no doubt due to his telepathy. Airport counter...Virgin Airlines. Destination: London. He smirks at the attendant, then strides onto the airplane.
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Another vision: another hotel room, God knows where. I'm standing there, waiting, as Schuldig walks in the door. The surprise on his face is a welcome sight as I move forward and kiss him breathless. I'm the one shocked now; I *don't* let people get to me, emotions are dangerous in my profession. People are there to be used, whether it's for power, money or sexual release.
I slump back in my seat, take another sip of my beer. It must be part of my future plans, to throw Schuldig off-balance, to secure his cooperation. It can't be anything else. I won't let it be anything else.
//I'm coming to you//
//I'll be there in time//
Yes, that must be it, part of a plan. After all, my visions never lie.
I am in control.
***
End notes: I have never been to Germany, and my geography is probably off-base. I apologize for any confusion. The information about Leipzig is real, obtained through Yahoo Groups.
(1) Alexander and Dominik are among the most popular names for boys in Germany over the last decade. I just liked the names. The surname Brandt translates into "fire." I thought that was appropriate.
Let's hope Farfarello doesn't look into this: Alexander means "defender of men" and Dominik "belonging to God." Makes you wonder what could have been...
(2) Schoppenstube is indeed a large gay bar/nightclub in Germany, but it is really located in Berlin.