Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ scarlet sunset ❯ Scarlet Sunset ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Scarlet Sunset [part 1 out of 3]

Author: Farfarello

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: angst, lemon [part3] and some disturbing scenes [part2]

Disclaimers: Weiss Kreuz does not belong to me...

"Y-you're kidding, right doc?" Schulderich asked as he slumped back on the seat where he had been sitting on. The doctor shook his head and turned to the man who seemed to be the leader of the group.

Apparently, the scientists of Esset had found a way to stabilize Farfarello's brain waves. Meaning, Farfarello would become... sane. No one in Schwarz could believe it even after the doctor explained it so many times over. But there was a catch to it...

"Are you sure there's no other way to do this?" Crawford asked as he ran a hand through his short black hair. Once more, the doctor shook his head and said, "I've told you so many times already, we can't go through with it without eliminating whatever memory he has. If you want this, then all of you would just have to be ready for the aftermath."

Nagi, who had been silent all this while finally stood up and spoke in a rather loud voice, "We cannot just let Farfarello's memory slip away from him! We just can't!" Then he ran out the door, shielding his tears as he headed outside.

Schulderich stood up once more and ran his hands down his coat to smoothen out the wrinkles on it. Giving Crawford a knowing look, the red head walked after Nagi saying, "I don't think it would be fair if we decided for him."

Crawford just sat there, it was obvious that he had trouble deciding on the matter, and then the doctor's thoughts interrupted his thoughts. "He is insane as you say correct? Then whatever is inside his head now would be incoherent and worthless, so I suggest he go through this."

At this statement, Crawford's eyes narrowed as he shot an icy glare at the doctor who suddenly fell silent. "I'll call you when we have decided, thank you doctor." The American got up from his seat and followed his two team mates, his eye brows knotted as he went.

"What now?" Green eyes stared up from the TV to the man who had just entered the room. "I don't know..." Came the quiet reply. Crawford sat down on the couch in their living room and heaved a big sigh.

It had been exactly a week since their visit to the doctor and anyone could see what the effect was on the members of Schwarz, especially Crawford. The usually work-aholic American had begun to look like a worn-out rag doll. He was always dead beat when he came home and he didn't seem to get enough sleep at all.

"This thing is killing you Brad... why don't you just let Farfarello live on like he is now? We don't have a problem with that right?" Schulderich pointed out as he switched off the TV and nearly winced as he looked at his best friend.

Crawford leaned back on the couch and said, "It's for his own good Schu, Farfarello has the right to live a normal life. Away from all this blood and gore. Away from all the sins that we carry... away from us." At that last line, the brown-eyed man felt his chest cringe... it hurt.

The red head could feel how heavy this burden was for their leader. Being a telepath, he could hear people's thoughts and sometimes their feelings. Even though he wasn't an empath, he could still feel it, meaning you can't have one without a bit of the other.

What the telepath could feel from his friend could only be described as a huge dark mist that enveloped his mind... and heart.

"But Brad, If we let him go through it then he'd forget about Schwarz. Me, Nagi and... you. He's gonna forget about you..." There was a drop in the red head's voice as he drank the last of his beer that had been standing on the table by the TV before standing up to leave.

Schulderich turned his head for another look at the American and mumbled, "I guess it's up to Farfarello to decide, ask him." Then he smirked and went up stairs. "But before you do, fix yourself up, you look like crap!"

Crawford heaved another sigh, closed his eyes and began to massage his temples, trying to relieve himself of the headache he was having. Finally, he pulled himself together and made his way upstairs to his room.

The American stopped at the door next to his... Farfarello's room. Takatori had insisted on placing Farfarello in a cell but Crawford had given the Irishman a room instead saying he had enough control to be able to sleep in a room instead of a padded cell.

After taking in a deep breath, Crawford peered inside and saw dozens of Farfarello's knives strewn all over the floor, some were even embedded on the wall. There were blood stains on the wall... again. Crawford decided to let Schulderich clean it up in the morning.

The American stealthily walked inside the room and looked at the face of its owner. There was Farfarello, sleeping motionlessly on the bed, arms wrapped around himself, effect of wearing a straight-jacket for so long. The raven-haired man could only smile at the memory of how hard it was to explain the concept of the bed and how frustrated he had been. Yet, here he was now, gazing at the very same Irishman with deep brown eyes.

Farfarello just lay there, silent except for his breathing, he looked almost normal, not counting the eye patch and the countless criss-crossing scars all over his face and body due to self-mutilation.

Crawford reached out and traced a scar on the boy's face lightly with the tip of his finger, careful not to wake him. The Schwarz leader felt a huge weight over his shoulders as he continued to look at that face.

Farfarello's face looked so peaceful, belying the harsh interior which was filled with so much hatred and pain. Unable to bear the pain that was eating him up inside, Crawford moved away from the sleeping figure and went to his room. "I leave it to you."

The American switched on the light and looked at himself in the mirror, his jaw nearly fell on the floor at what he saw. Schulderich was right, he did look like crap, he had dark circles around his eyes, his eyes were drooping and his perfectly-tailored business suit hung unto his frame loosely. All in all, he looked haggard and harassed, not only did he look like crap... he felt like crap.

Crawford took a shower, slipped into a pair of boxers and literally threw himself on the bed. He fell asleep despite his raging headache and the heavy burden he carried. Yet, even in the realms of slumber, Crawford could not find peace.

A little boy was running through the corridor, his silver hair following him as he went. Burly men were running after the boy who was desperately trying to find way out of the dark building.

The young boy tripped and fell on the floor, skinning his knee. He cried to himself until he heard someone coming, he snapped his head thinking that the men had found him but found himself staring into deep auburn orbs.

A man stood there, a smile on his kind face and holding out his hand to the little boy saying, "Stop crying little one, take my hand."

The silver-haired boy reached out hesitantly then pulled himself up before running to the single large window with dirty-white drapes that fluttered in the breeze. The boy looked outside, the sky was blazing like fire as the sun began its descent.

The boy turned to the man and pointed outside, pleading amber eyes looking straight into brown ones as he cried, "The sunset... please take me outside to the sunset... please!" The man picked the boy up and pressed his precious bundle to his chest as he ran outside.

The man found himself in a beach, the wind blew across the sand, filling them both with the scent of the sea.

The amber-eyed boy jumped down on the beach and ran to the edge of the sea, foam lapping at his feet as he stared at the horizon. "The sunset! I have finally seen it! Thank you."

The man walked up to him and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder before watching the sun disappear from the horizon, leaving the sky filled with scarlet and deep violet hues. "It's really magnificent isn't it?"

The boy nodded his head and turned to smile at his companion. The brown-eyed man was taken aback by the boy's smile, it showed pure joy and innocence that simply emanated from him. "Let's watch the sunset again okay?" the boy chimed.

The man nodded as he ran his fingers through the boy's silver mane. "Promise?" The boy asked as he held out his pinky to his new found friend.

Before the man could answer, a pair of men from the building grabbed the boy and began to carry him off. The boy kicked and screamed, his amber eyes once again looked at the man as he cried, "Please don't let them take me back! Help me! Help me! You promised to watch the sunset again with me!!!"

"NOOO!!!" Crawford shot up from bed, his whole body soaked in a sheen of cold sweat, his breathing ragged as he gasped for air. When he finally calmed down, he placed a hand on his chest and clenched down on his lower lip as he felt an all-too-familiar pain.

Crawford felt as if he was being torn apart piece by piece. His soul burning with so much misery and sadness that he had managed to hide for so long.

But a person can only take so much and the American was at his limit. He was tired... so tired , Crawford felt his barriers give way causing tears to well up in his eyes.

The black-haired man's frame shook as soft sobs escaped him. Somehow, the dream had brought certain feelings to the surface. Feelings that he had buried so deep, feelings that he never wished he had, feelings he never wanted to feel.

The pain shot through Crawford like a bullet through his heart as he continued to cry. He hated himself for being so soft and breaking down like that, but he couldn't do anything... couldn't do anything anymore.

Crawford pulled the sheets tighter around himself, seeking whatever comfort he was allowed to have.

Tired and frustrated, the American reached out to his bed-side table and fumbled with a bottle of sleeping pills. He popped a few into his mouth and simply waited for the effect to kick in.

Auburn eyes began to blur, one line passed through Crawford's lips before darkness claimed him. "I'm sorry... Jei..."

~tbc

[Comments and criticisms are welcome...] -Farfarello