Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Reflections and Regrets ❯ I Let It Happen ( Chapter 1 )
Crawford reflects on what he did not do and what it means to him.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.21.2002 | Pages: 1 | Words: 3.5K | Visits: 520 | Status: Completed
'Mind Games' was supposed to be a single chapter story. But after hearing the feedback, the muse decided she wanted a side story from Crawford's point of view. The American, she insisted, isn't satisfied with the small mention of having arranged to save Schuldich's hide. And I never did dwell on Aya/Ran's point of view about what happened to him. <sigh> There was more to the story that I left unsaid, so here is some of it. Hope it appeals to some of you.
Reflections and Regrets
(A Mind Games side story)
By Jacque Koh
July 2000
/I wonder what he feels about my scrutiny?/ The thought runs fleetingly through Crawford's mind again as he discretely looked over his newspaper to where the Mobile Koneko no Sumu Ie is parked. /I know he noticed me hours ago./
Despite knowledge of his presence in the café across the street, still the Weiß redhead did not appear to be unduly worried or nervous to be alone and without the company of the rest of his unit. Any outsider would easily take him for an unassuming florist plying his trade on the busy thoroughfare in Kyoto.
Crawford snorted to himself at the thought. /*If* it is considered normal for a florist to be surrounded by starry-eyed schoolgirls vying for his attention./
Crawford had to admit that he was greatly amused by Weiß's other vocation. When Schuldich first told him of the daytime activities of Weiß, he had been properly sceptical. Yet in his afternoon scrutiny of the man, Crawford observed that he appeared to know his trade rather well. /Correction-- it should be little wonder, considering the bit of history that Nagi managed to dig up on Ran Fujimiya's early training in Sendai. That he had been attached to a-- Flower Arrangement Centre./
A cough of laughter escaped the American's throat again. The pure incongruity of the idea that an assassin could masquerade as a florist-- it made him shake his head. He couldn't deny that it was effective. Certainly none of the customers would ever think that the man who made them those beautiful flower arrangements was a cold-hearted murderer. In spite of the smear job Takatori tried to do on Weiß, the public did not believe that the well liked *florists* could have been the feared assassin group. Certainly, once Takatori was killed and order restored to Tokyo, Weiß had easily reopened their shop with apologies and compensation provided by the government for the 'regretful' harassment visited upon them. This bit of news had amused Schwartz to no end when they found out about it.
Given that example, it made Crawford wonder whether he should have Schwartz take up a 'harmless' daytime profession too; If only to ward away the boredom that frequently descended on them between jobs. He couldn't think of what would fit his unit though. Run a bookstore? A pet shop maybe-- Nagi would be amused, as would the surviving Schreient girl, Toto. The two kids certainly didn't have very much of a normal childhood. It might even be a welcomed escape to let them play with and care for the pets in the store. Though what could they do about Farfarello, or even Schuldich...
/Schuldich./ The name brought Crawford's eyes off the newspapers to look at the Weiß redhead again. To his trained eye, it was obvious that the man was in a great deal of pain. So much so that he couldn't entirely mask his distress from the bubbly schoolgirls that surrounded him. Furthermore, Crawford was aware of a faint tremor of tension, which appeared from time to time. /How could they have left him alone? But... then again, how could they not?/
After the events of the previous night, Crawford could sympathise with Kudou's confusion and guilt, but his running away was certainly ill-timed. The strategist in him cursed Schuldich for 'wasting' this unique opportunity of control for a night for 'fun'. No advantage could be taken of it now, Weiß was sure to take steps to ensure that none of their members would ever lose control like that again. So after a 'fun-filled' evening, what was gained? They knew Fujimiya to be too practical a man to let the events tear the team apart. With proper counselling and support, he would himself, recover from the trauma with time.
Time... Crawford looked up from the newspapers to regard the Japanese man again. For a 'morning after'-- Fujimiya was holding up remarkably well. True, Crawford could see the lines of strain, and some of the more observant customers, for that matter, could tell that he wasn't exactly well. But few if any would ever guess why.
The Schwartz leader frowned at the memory of seeing Fujimiya sending his team-mates off to look for their missing member. He didn't have to be a mind reader to guess that the two younger men were extremely reluctant to leave their friend unaccompanied, but there seemed little choice. Certainly, their missing compatriot was a cause of concern for them, given that Schuldich must have managed to take complete control of him just hours earlier. It *would* be disastrous if the German seized control a second time and sent him back after them. It was far safer to locate him as quickly as possible, and that required at least two of them taking part in the search. They could not risk sending out just one and having him attacked-- just as the redhead had been attacked. How ever vulnerable Fujimiya felt after last night, he *would not* risk a repeat of the offence happening to his comrades.
His team-mates didn't like it. That was plainly obvious, even from his distant point of vantage. Nevertheless, Crawford could understand why they didn't want to challenge his orders. If the man had been injured 'normally', they would have taken his orders without worry, trusting that the precaution of leaving him in a busy public area was sufficient to safeguard him from attack or molestation. How ever concerned or protective they felt about Fujimiya now, after the violation of the previous night, they knew it would be the greatest blow to his confidence if they treated him any differently. And the last thing they wanted to do was to undermine his faith in his own ability. At least Fujimiya did not appear to resent their precaution in swinging back to touch base with him a couple of times through the afternoon. But Crawford had to wonder again how the man felt about his presence just across the street.
From his observation, the afternoon alone had not passed easily for Ran Fujimiya. Most of his customers were not aware of his discomfort, but it was clear to Crawford that the man would become jittery when the press of the crowd got too thick. A couple of times, he noticed that the man would nonchalantly move into a position such that he could lean his back against one of the display stands, as if taking assurance of something solid behind him. Once he had even retreated into the trailer for a few minutes, leaving the store unattended and the schoolgirls waiting and wondering what the emergency was about. So the man *was* unsettled. Yet he hadn't appeared to have bothered to inform his team-mates of his scrutiny. Why? Was he just being reckless? Was he silently rebelling against his team-mates' barely concealed protectiveness and worry for his well being? Was Fujimiya that confident he wouldn't take any action with so many witnesses?
/Or does he just know you well enough?/
Crawford couldn't suppress the flash of the image which had come to him the previous evening before Schuldich had left them. He had known what Schuldich was up to. He'd had a clairvoyant vision of what was about to take place and he had stepped out of his room in the next instance to see the German man standing at the door ready to leave. Yet, he didn't say anything. Schuldich's challenging smirk even made him wonder why he was showing concern for an enemy.
But when the German returned the next morning-- appearing at breakfast smelling of blood and sex. Holding a familiar earring between his lips like a cigarette... Crawford would swear that he felt nothing for the members of Weiß. Yet-- he still felt the heavy weight of-- guilt.
Nagi was the first to break the silence. His voice low and subdued at the careless nonchalance the German exuded as he sauntered towards the breakfast table, unmindful of his rumpled appearance or of the stink surrounding him. "You're-- not gay, Schuldich. Why did you...?"
"Why not?" The German sucked on the earring as he twirled it between his fingers. "Maybe because he's always managed to evade me in his dreams. Maybe because I was never able to leave a lasting impression on him before. Maybe I'm just addicted to him. Maybe just because.
"The opportunity was there, why not take it. He was so tight and perfect..." Schuldich's green eyes had turned dreamy at the memory of his early morning activities. "Such a sweet little kitten." The German wrapped his arms around Crawford from behind and purred into his ear. "Could I bring him home with me next time, daddy?"
"To what end?" He had kept his eyes on his newspaper, refusing to look up or squirm in the man's embrace. "Kritiker reveals very little to their field agents. It would be a waste of time and energy--"
"Bradley! You can't be *that* unimaginative? A waste of time?" Schuldich had laughed in his ear, given him a quick peck on the cheek and stolen his toast before retreating to his room to sleep for the rest of the morning.
He had felt Nagi's eyes on him after Schuldich's departure. He did not need to look at the boy to know that he was disturbed. Was it just worry? For his own, or maybe for Toto's safety?
"We do not hurt our own, Nagi." He had offered the statement to the boy, hoping that it would ease his new-born discomfort with their German compatriot for the activities of the previous evening. He had not expected the unsaid accusation in Nagi's reply.
"I-- don't think anyone-- is deserving of rape, Crawford. Not even our enemies."
Crawford looked up then, but the boy was already gone. His breakfast left half eaten on the table. Should he have been surprised that the boy would be troubled? It wasn't more than two years ago when he had searched for and picked up the little street urchin. How it had come about, Crawford couldn't tell. But when he first laid eyes on the filthy little ragamuffin, he felt responsible for the boy. He often worried, but he didn't dare press Nagi to talk about the 'hurt' inflicted on him before they met. The boy would never talk about his months, or was it years, of living on the streets. In his time with them though, Nagi did come far from those days of silence and fear.
Truthfully, Crawford was happy to see Nagi's interest in the Schreient girl, Toto. It was only with her that Nagi took the initiative to start a relationship, and even to venture out on his own beyond the walls of their safe house. However, Crawford had not liked it at all when he received his visions of Nagi's apparent death with the girl. The boy had tried to listen to him that once. Had painfully distanced himself from the girl when her team first clashed with Weiß. But when given a second chance, after the girl had survived the first death trap, Nagi had turned defiant. Crawford had gone so far as to raise his hand on the boy. Then threatened to punish him if he insisted on trying to protect Toto from the sentence of death passed down by the SS. But Nagi proved willing to lay down his life for his love and ignored his warnings.
When Crawford returned to the demolish mansion later, thinking to retrieve Nagi's lifeless remains, he couldn't say what shocked him more. That the two children had survived, or that Nagi forgave Crawford for his attempt to change the future and protect him from possible death.
Young love... Despite the fulfilment of his visions, seeing how they had actually survived, Crawford had done everything in his power to make sure he'd gain legal custody of Toto so that they'd never be separated again. As long as Nagi had Toto, Crawford had hope that the boy would heal and eventually deal with his past trauma instead of suppressing it. And slow as it was, he thought Nagi was beginning to finally open up. Until Schuldich decided to play his games...
In the silence that he had been left in, Crawford could not help but dwell on Schuldich's actions. He *had* known-- had seen what Schuldich was going to do. Yet he did nothing. Nagi-- it was clear that the boy considered him a party to the rape because of his inaction. And now, every bit of trust he had built between himself and the boy lay in the dust. Was that fair?
It was times like that that Crawford wondered why he put up with Schuldich's idiosyncrasies. For all of Farfarello's mental instability, there were days when he felt that Schuldich was far more unstable. Crawford could even pinpoint the moment he had first noticed Schuldich's unnatural obsession with Ran Fujimiya. When the German realised the boy had noticed him and later escaped unharmed from the explosion that killed his parents and put his sister in a coma. At sometime during the brief encounters and clashes that followed, Schuldich had taken to habitually trying to get under the other man's skin. Fujimiya had managed to stay out of his clutches. But clearly, this time Schuldich won.
A high pitched squeal of a schoolgirl brought Crawford out of his thoughts to look back at where the Weiß redhead still ran the flower shop. He wondered again how the Weiß members could stand to be surrounded by starry-eyed schoolgirls every day. They were 'jail bait,' as the expression went in some parts of America. And really, some of them had voices that could bend metal. Then again, there were also the few unusually helpful specimens. Fujimiya was certainly fortunate that a couple of the more observant girls were aware of his masked distress. He did not make much of an issue to have them be his feet in retrieving flowers and supplies for him. Indeed, with their assistance, he had managed not to move very much for the last few hours. The man was a study in the economy of movement as he stayed at the workbench, while the helpful girls supplied him with all the materials he needed to create his beautiful bouquets and arrangements. Had he not been in pain, Crawford was sure that Fujimiya would not deign to let them fuss over him so flagrantly.
The thought made Crawford frown as his earlier question resurfaced in his mind. Above all else, he knew Fujimiya to be practical, and he was aware of his physical limitations, enough to bury his pride to accept the assistance the girls offered. So why hadn't the redhead reacted or even told Weiß when he first noticed him across the street?
/Because he knows you are not Schuldich, who might do something out of amusement. You have nothing to gain by attacking him in the open. It would be a wasted effort. Just as your current preoccupation with watching the Weiß redhead is a waste of time./
Crawford shook his newspaper in irritation, pretending to turn the page. Sometimes he hated that little voice in his head that would pop up and give him the simple answers he'd be agonising over for hours at a time. But the voice was right, it was a waste of time. So why was he here now, silently watching Ran Fujimiya with no intention of posing a threat to him?
/Just a show, to distance yourself from Schuldich's actions./
His hands crushed the edge of the papers. Crawford had to ask himself if it was possible to deny responsibility anymore? He *had* known what Schuldich intended to do, and he did not interfere. To Nagi's eyes, he had a hand in the brutal rape too. Nagi... So was that it? He felt bad about the disappointment the boy had felt in him. Nagi had practically accused him of condoning the rape of the Weiß redhead with his inaction. He *could* have done something about it. He received the forewarning. But he let it happen-- and it was far too late to do anything about it now.
Crawford finished crushing the newspapers in his hands. He wondered why he even bothered to keep up the charade, since he knew that he had been spotted hours ago. He couldn't deny it anymore. He felt bad about what happened. He *never* regretted his jobs before. Not for killing his targets. Not for the hurt caused to others as a consequence of completing his assignments. He certainly felt no regret for his hand in the deaths of Fujimiya's parents, nor his involvement in the SS debacle which threatened the lives of Aya Fujimiya and Sakura Tomoe.
/But... rape was different./
//"I-- don't think anyone-- is deserving of rape, Crawford. Not even our enemies."// Nagi's words haunted him again as he looked up to see Ran Fujimiya speaking with a dark-haired woman.
At that moment, a flash of a precognitive vision sped through his mind. Crawford cursed as he reached for his cellular phone. /Damn it, Schuldich! Don't you know when to leave things well enough alone?/
His hand hesitated over the keypad. Crawford realised that he could choose not to do anything again. Perhaps let Schuldich receive his just deserts at the hands of the furious Weiß. He fleetingly wondered how long they would take to kill him. Siberian, especially, didn't exactly look very forgiving. Crawford could recall that Hidaka had struggled to keep his emotions controlled in Fujimiya's presence. But once the younger man had turned away to leave, his expression had darkened like death's spectre.
The man was clearly on a short fuse, both from anger at what was done to his friend and from worry over leaving the said friend relatively 'unprotected' while they searched for their missing compatriot. The ex-professional soccer player looked to be the most unpredictable of Weiß right now, and possibly the most dangerous. It had not missed Crawford's notice that Hidaka now had bagnuks attached to *both* his gloves. From the vision, Crawford knew that Schuldich was going to be confronted by the three Weiß members, and he started to wonder if Schuldich, with his much vaunted speed, would be able to survive an all out attack by an enraged Siberian.
Crawford let his breath out in a sigh. As entertaining as the idea was, he couldn't let Weiß relieve Schwartz of the German. As hateful as he thought the man could be, Schuldich was still useful. He hit the speed dial and waited for the party at the other end to answer. His inaction was a mistake and he could no longer deny it. He knew he had failed Nagi's expectations once, but he promised himself that he would not fail again. As long as he could interfere, he would not stand by and let Schuldich abuse anyone again. For now, he hoped Nagi could forgive him for what he was about to ask him to do.
A familiar voice soon came on line. "Nagi? Do you know where we keep the grenades? ... Good, go get one, there's someone I need you to bail out. ... Yes, it's Schuldich. ... Yes, we have to. ... No, I can't do it. He's at the other end of the city, I'll never get there in time. ... Just get the grenade, you have half an hour to think about it and another half hour to get there. ... Yes, you will, Nagi. ... They usually are, Nagi. ..."
tbc