Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Saving the Rose ❯ Part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Betaed by: Falconsong K'Vala

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Disclaimer: I have yet to pull an official document that reads: 'ye now owns the rights to Weiβ Kreuz and all characters therein' from inside a Cracker Jack box.

Warning: There is a sufficient amount of gore, angst and oh yes shonen ai contained within this fic. ^^ I could not help myself!

Author's Notes: Another AyaxBrad ficcy from me! Yatta! Anyway, I just felt the need to vent some frustration and well this seemed the most appropriate way for me to do so. You may also consider this fan fiction an attempt at an apology for taking so long with TPC. ^^ The fic starts off sounding BradxAya but everyone's fave lil kitten will be turning the tables on our fave preog soon enough.

One more thing, this is my entry for the 'Brad as an uke' contest; now enough rambling from me and on with the fic!

Now, as promised here is the betaed version. Soooo on with the fic!

// blah blah blah // denotes telepathic speech btw

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Saving the Rose
By Lady Dragon

The darkened alley stretched ominously before me, it's grime and feces caked path littered with puddles of what I hoped to be water from the night's earlier rain. Bottles that once contained cheap liquor, empty cartons, loose pieces of paper, garbage bags with their contents spewed about, and crushed cans lay strewn about; a veritable hazard to the casual stroller. Not that anyone would take a stroll down this quaint little path. No, anyone fool enough to travel the dark and dangerous allies of Tokyo would think better of it upon coming face to face with the unseeing eyes of a beggar, his throat slit long ago, his body rotting and attracting flies near the mouth of the ally.

Had that not been enough to deter fools from entering, then perhaps the sight of various female body parts peeking out from beneath the scattered trash would do the trick. Normal people tended to turn tail and run when faced with a hunk of meat that was once attached to a living woman's chest. Of course if none of the above worked then, perhaps, the idiot who dared to enter would in fact be quite deserving of his fate. Idiots allowed to breed only give birth to more imbeciles; mankind has no need for them.

The bright and shining lights of Tokyo did nothing to illuminate this small pathway to hell. It loomed before me in all its dark glory, the shimmering lights doing nothing to alleviate the dark- only managing to deepen the shadows and cast an eerie touch to the already macabre scene. I would not for any small amount of cash set foot into this alley; not because of the gore, nor because of the man that made this piece of hell his playground and a final resting place for his victims. No, I would not set foot here due to the filth that was everywhere. White suits and expensive shoes do not suit places such as these.

Yet, despite my disgust I could not leave. He was here, and only he could make me walk into a veritable trashcan. I'd follow him into hell if need be, and that's the sad truth of it; a truth I tried for so very long to run away from. I tried to kill it with cold indifference, scathing remarks, and working for the one man that he despised above all others. None of it worked. Visions haunt me even years after our last fateful battle before we crashed into the sea and seemingly ceased to be.

He had continued on- he and his team; forever hunting the dark beasts even though their reasons had been reached, even though their goals had been attained. Such determination and courageous hearts I see in all of them, no matter how hard two of them try to hide it. His teammates pale in comparison to him though. He is the one that I am plagued with heart wrenching visions of.

I had long hoped to get over him and move on. I am true darkness and he, despite what he thinks, is a shinning and brilliant angel. How could I bring myself to sully him with my filthy hands? Despite the manicures, the thousand dollar suits, and the tasteful cologne I'm nothing more than trash. Perhaps not as vile as the creature that is responsible for the dismembered hand I have just trodden upon, but trash I am nonetheless. Well-manicured and groomed trash.

Roses. The scent is thick and cloying yet it is a scent that only I can smell. It is the same scent that accompanies all my visions pertaining to him. The scent heralds the images that flash before my mind's eyes. Visions of pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat caused by yet another nightmare that has forced the pale beauty to give up sleep for the night, as he has done for countless nights now.

Shimmering blue eyes flash before me and I know I am seeing through his eyes now. Blue eyes that sparkle with unshed tears yet there is a fire burning within their iridescent depths. A fire fueled by hatred, her hatred of the man before her. I- he- we move to embrace her and instead feel the stinging bite of her slap. What has he done to incur the wrath of his only loved one?

The area around me shifts and no longer am I presented with the sight of the two. Instead I am greeted with the sight of cold black and white tile. I'm still seeing through his eyes, and I found that he/we are rendered incapable of movement. Frantically my mental eyes search about us, trying to find the logic of this, but nothing comes. Nothing answers my unspoken question until I look down upon myself. Gone is my tan skin, and instead I am greeted with the sight of his fair skinned and glorious nude body. Something's not right, splashes of red liquid cover his thighs and lap, a puddle of the red substance already forming below and spreading out around him where he sits cross legged, leaning his back against the bathtub.

Blood, his blood, is spreading out at an alarming rate around us. I can feel his heart beat begin to slow to an unnaturally slow pace. He's dying by his own hand, and there's no one in the house- no one who will burst in at the last minute to save him. The only one who might have is gone now, gone in a burst of anger and righteous indignation. He is alone, and will die alone, and that's exactly what he had wanted.

Cuts crisscross the wrists that lay demurely in his lap. It's not the numerous cuts that make me wince and wish to turn away though; it is the sight of the single vertical slash he has made on both wrists that makes me cringe. From wrist to elbow he placed a single and well-planned cut, and through the now slowing blood I can glimpse some unearthly gleaming pieces of white in the wound- bone. Straight to the bone, leaving nothing to chance, he wished to die and Aya made sure to do it perfectly. There can be no backing out, no saving now from the wounds he has inflicted. He did not even stop after achieving those crucial slices, no he continued to slice and cut away until his arms and wrists were a mass of crimson slashes.

Even if his sister were to return, or if Balinese or one of the others were to walk through that door now there would be nothing that they could do. Nothing except just sit back and watch him die. The blood loss too great, the body too far into shock, the wound too deep, my kitten has done a perfect job of murdering himself.

Just as suddenly as the vision comes it is gone, and my eyes focus once again on the vile alley around me. I've had visions of him since the first day I laid eyes upon him, the day I helped to snatch his parents away from him and placed his sister in a coma. The visions were never like this before; no I caught glimpses of his life and unguarded moments instead, moments of pure joy and moments of pure grief.

Then there were the glimpses, promises of the future; a future I had refused to believe in. Cream colored sheets and sweat covered bodies moving together in a primal dance, our bodies and limbs entwined with one another's. Sparkling amethyst orbs and rose tinted lips moving into a long forgotten movement as deep rich laughter bubbled forth from that luscious mouth.

Always am I plagued with these visions. But now dark and more sinister ones have begun popping up. It was these that spurred me on through the dark alley stumbling through the dark like a blind man, racing against time to find the one I love.

It will happen tonight if I don't stop him. My rose has already begun to wilt, but tonight will be the night that the last of his petals fell to the floor in a lifeless heap if I do not make a move. I can't afford to be a coward any longer. He is no longer Weiβ and I am no longer Schwarz- what was done was done.

What could I say that would alter his future enough to give him a reason to live? The visions shown to me promised that he was at one point capable of caring for me. But those sweet sights had stopped months ago; all I have seen of him now are images of him surrounded by guilt and wallowing through his life's woes. I'd had warnings of him courting death, taking unnecessary risks on his missions. He no longer carried just his sword, but that sword was no longer sharpened; it's blade dull and uncared for. The berretta he carried never held a full clip anymore, and every night when he ran out of bullets I worried that would be the night.

Still I made no move; I suppose I'm selfish that way. I had hoped, and believed that Balinese would pull him out of his depression. Instead Aya seemingly worsened until at last, even Kudo couldn't bear to stand by his side as he walked down the road to his own destruction.

Never did the visions warn of his suicide, though. They told me of his deep sated longing for death, told of his risks, or his frustration and depression; but just when the visions seemed at their gloomiest something always assured me that he would survive. His sister's awakening, Balinese's attentions, his team's camaraderie, Tomoe's friendship; something was always there to pull him back. I should have noticed, however, that even though something always stopped him, he couldn't have been getting any better if he continuously returned to the brink time after time.

I had run from my rose, and in my cowardice I had failed him. He might not have realized it yet but we are two parts to a whole- one cannot function without the other. His thoughts turn to me often, though not always in ways I'd like them to, or so Schuldig reported. Had I faced the truth sooner he would not have been were he is today; but my gift has warned me of one last chance, one I cannot refuse.

The end of the alley nears, and my body trembles as my mind attempts to suppress the premonition that is coming. Again I smell the thick scent of roses. Beneath the sweet scent lies a faint and coppery one that I can almost taste. It is something I've smelt far too often in my life- blood. If I hesitate, if I fail him this time then it will be the end. Shaking off the disgust and bile that rises in my throat I continue along, ignoring the squishing sound of human organs that were never meant to see the outside world.

'Only for you Ran, only for you would I do this.'

What would my teammates say if they knew the things I did because of him? They've guessed, I'm sure, but the true extent of my obsession they couldn't have fathomed. Then again perhaps they have. They're far more intelligent than I care to give them credit for; because that would mean I had not tricked them into following me and standing by my side as we attempted to topple Estet. No, that would mean they had trusted and put their faith in me.

My team trusted me, and I've been in love with my enemy for years, yet hiding in the darkness in fear of his love. Who would have thought that the great Oracle was nothing but a coward deep down inside? I wish to take my rose away from this place, wish we could be anywhere else but here, but Abyssinian has turned down this alleyway intent upon chasing down and slaying the dark beast he was sent to hunt. He has followed the murdering psychopath to his home. 'I only hope he knows what he's doing.' I mutter as my foot becomes entangled in the remains of one of the killer's early victims. I'm never eating spaghetti again.

In the distance I heard the sound of a scuffle and knew that his task was almost complete. Up ahead I'm met with the sight of a solid brick wall; a dead end, or so it would appear. To my left hidden by the casual observer's view by a stack of boxes is an opening where the two walls did not quite meet. It was barely wide enough for a single person to squeeze through at a time; from the sounds the fight was escalating, and they were coming from within the opening. What had Aya been thinking, following this man into here?

I take my glasses off and slide them into their protective case, then tuck them securely in my breast pocket. It's time to stop thinking and start acting. Almost with complete ease I slipped through the opening. There was no muck here; in fact it was strangely clean and free of mementos. The pathway, which turns out to be a narrow gap set between two buildings, iss barely wide enough for me to walk without scraping my arms and shoulders along the wall.

The alley came to an end all at once and spilled into what appeared to be a small and forgotten courtyard. High concrete fences embedded with glass shards, and topped with barbwire kept others out. Judging by the run down buildings surrounding it, it had also managed to remain undiscovered by anyone sans the sorry excuse for a human standing out in the open, laughing.

He seemed to think this was all hysterically funny as he lunged out of Aya's striking range over and over again. The madman was courting death and didn't even seem to care. All at once Aya lost his control, temper flaring at the being before him and he let out a furious cry as he lunged at the idiot. Streaks of light flashed as his katana cut through the night, severing the head of his victim, and just like that it was all over.

He lowers his blade, not even bothering to clean it off before sheathing it once again. There was a time I would not have been able to sneak up behind the man, now he did not even seem to feel eyes upon him, watching his every move. I suddenly didn't need Schuldig's insights into his mind or my visions to tell me that he had stopped caring, that he was willing and ready to die.

His chest heaved as the tempered redhead attempted to get his breathing under control. Something about this mission had upset him terribly; perhaps it was the thought of his beloved imōuto lying among the fallen girls littering the alley. He staggered as he made to leave, exhaustion radiating from his being.

Now would be the safest time to approach him, now that his thirst for blood had been sated, and his limbs weary after being forced to do three solitary missions back to back. Now was the time to approach my rose. Mentally and physically exhausted, perhaps then he would be able to listen to my words long enough for me to say my piece, before I hear the words: "Schwarz, Shi-ne!!"

I held no delusions, there is no reason for him to ever believe me or trust in me; but maybe just maybe my visit will prolong his return long enough that he will return home after his imouto has left. That would at least prevent the cataclysmic events that were to occur tonight. It's the best-case scenario at this point; so long as my Rose's life is spared then that's all that really matters.

I step out of the shadows and move into the light and he whirls around to face me, hand already reaching for the sheathed katana.

"Schwarz, what are you doing here?"

Its not his trademarked 'die now darkness' line, a small favor to be thankful for. Violet orbs flash in anger at me, cold hard chips of ice that bore into my soul.

"Fujimiya, you could say I had a vision of you, telling me of the importance of my presence here this night."

There is no response, just a low growl.

// Ubber job mein herr, antagonize the man you wish to wrestle with between the sheets. //

// Schuldig, stay out of this. Thats an order. //

// Ch'! Since when do I follow orders? Surely you know me better than that Bradley dear. //

Before I could even yell at the intruding German my attention was snared by a blur of black racing towards me, katana upraised.

His moves were slow with lethargy, not nearly as threatening as they once were. I didn't even need a premonition to warn me of my opponent's moves, my arms immediately moved, hands seizing the blade in mid air while my body twisted to the right, out of harm's way. The movement coupled with the momentum of his lunge was enough to send Aya toppling to the ground, his sword clattering on the concrete and skidding out of his reach.

// Brilliant job Braddy-kins. But you should really try to be gentler with your intended. //

// What part of 'stay out of this' did you not understand? //

// I can see you will most definitely require my expertise in wooing the kitten. //

With a mental sigh I felt the German back off. His presence still lingered, letting me know that he had remained to help if necessary but would refrain from his commentary.

I kneel down next to the fallen assassin; nerves tensed ready to jump back in an instant should his survival instincts decide to kick in, they dont. His overworked and neglected state has robbed him of his usual vitality. His breathing was ragged. Now that I was close I could see that his high cheekbones had but a little flesh pulled across them, his face appearing gaunt. His pale ivory skin now bordered on sickly gray, dark shadows lay beneath his eyes making him look like death warmed over.

// He has not been taking care of himself at all, has he? //

I ask silently, not really expecting a response and I am startled when I receive one.

// He's worse than even I thought. He has managed to lie even to himself on the damage he has wrought upon himself. //

Not a comforting thought that is.

// It wasn't meant to be Brad. You'll have your work cut out for you if you really do wish to nurse him back to health. //

I'll take care of him; from now on you won't be alone Aya.

// So, daddy's adopting a kitten for us to play with then, ja? //

// Schuldig. //

// Kidding just kidding. No need to get your knickers in a twist. I guess I'll tell Nagi to make some preparations and I'll put Farf in his room? //

Pausing as I wrap Aya in his coat I stop to consider what the German has said.

// Have Nagi take care of Farfarello as well, I have a job for you. //

// Eh? //

A glimmer of light reflects off of Aya's fallen katana out of the corner of my eye.

// No, no way uh-huh I am not walking through that mess just to fetch a sword! Buy him another one! //

// Fetch Aya's katana; then retrieve his belongings from his apartment. //

//But Bradley- //

// That's an order. //

Immediately I toss up my shields and cut off the flood of curses coming from the German telepath's end. I can't help but smirk slightly as I stroll through the streets towards the car parked a block away, the alley behind me and a precious bundle curled in my arms. Things just might be looking up after all.~Tsuzuku~

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