Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Silence ❯ Stray ( Chapter 3 )

Notes/Warnings: Schu torture/rape, and of course lots of angst. This is a fairly AU fic. Probably before the series started. Don't blame me, I just write what they tell me to.

Disclaimers: I don't own em. Too bad, really.

Silence

Chapter 3: Stray

Two weeks crawled by, and Schuldig wished he could have stayed in the hospital instead of coming home. He had been treated almost as poorly, except he hadn't had to deal with an uptight American who decided to claim him as his own personal blow-up doll. He was still handcuffed in bed, and his body hurt all over from the brutal sex. The metal caught around his wrists had chewed the flesh all to hell from his feeble attempts at escape. He probably would have starved to death if it weren't for Nagi. But even then the meals were sporadic. The kid barely remembered to feed himself as it was, and usually only remembered to feed Schuldig when he got something for himself, which could be hours, or as much as a day and a half between feedings. So despite the fact that all he did was sleep and cry, the pounds were still melting away. He had to have lost at least forty pounds in the past month and a half, which wasn't good seeing as he didn't weigh that much to start with.

The only good thing that had happened to him recently was that Crawford had been called away on business for a week. He'd only be gone for a day so far, which meant Schuldig had six more days to rest. Maybe he could convince Nagi to dress the wounds on his wrists, or at least get the first aid kit so he could do it himself.

Right. The kid wasn't about to face the wrath of Crawford just because Schuldig had a little booboo. It was his own fault he was in this situation.

With a sigh, the redhead rolled to face the wall, shifting to try to get further under his blanket. Nagi always covered him up when he came in, his nudity disturbed the youngest member of Schwarz. He wasn't sure if it was just because he was naked, or because he'd lost so much weight, or if it was because of all of the bruises and cuts Crawford had bestowed on him. More than likely it was a combination of all three.

A touch to his shoulder made him jump, spinning around and pressing tight against the wall, as tight as he could with his arms cuffed as they were at any rate. When he finally cracked one terror filled blue eye, all he saw was Nagi, smiling uncertainly with a tray holding a bowl of soup, two sandwiches, and a glass of water.

"I thought you might be hungry." Nagi sat the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed.

Schuldig relaxed, of course it hadn't been Crawford. Crawford wasn't here. He inched closer to Nagi, sitting up and best as he could. He took slow, deliberate bites as Nagi fed him, relishing the taste of the food. It was a simple egg salad sandwich, but Schu never knew when Nagi would remember to feed him again, so he wanted to enjoy this and make sure he was really full, and not just full from eating too fast. He wished Nagi would say something as they sat there, he hated the quiet. But he couldn't really do anything about it. So they sat there in silence, only broken but the sound of chewing, and the spoon clinking against the bowl full of miso soup.

It took half an hour before Schuldig finally turned his head away from the food. There was only a few spoonfuls of soup and a bit of crust left. The glass of water had been emptied and refilled at least four times. The German gave the native boy a small, miserable smile and mouthed thanks, his stomach happy and full as he rolled back to face the wall, curling up in a ball under the blanket. He sighed appreciatively as he felt Nagi tuck the blanket under him, then get up and leave, the inside lock clicking once the door closed. Schuldig easily recognized it as Nagi trying to give him just a little more security.

Nagi returned to feed Schuldig multiple times over the next three days. Once he even treated the wounds on Schuldig's wrists. It was after his feeding on the third day that Nagi did something odd.

He gave a simple yawn and said "I'm going to go take a nap," then took the dishes and left.

It might not seem odd, but Nagi never announced insignificant things to anyone, least of all to Schuldig. The door closed and the lock clicked from the inside. He knew this would be his only chance to escape, but the question was how?

He gingerly pulled against the cuffs, not wanting to upset his freshly dressed wounds. But there was no worry of that, since his hands slipped out with very little trouble. Nagi hadn't closed the cuffs as tight as before after cleaning and dressing his wrists. Just tight enough to keep him in place as long as he didn't struggle.

His heart started to pound. This was it. He was free, and Crawford shouldn't be back for days. His body was slow in moving, not used to having to stand and walk after nearly two months of laying down, but it did. His first impulse was to pack, however when he tried to open his dresser the drawer wouldn't budge. None of them would. The same with the closet doors. Schuldig's heart sank into his feet. It was his imagination, how stupid of him to think he could escape. He couldn't exactly run away naked. The police would ask all sorts of questions, questions he couldn't answer, and he would end up in prison, or worse, he would end up dead.

But would that really be so much worse than here?

With a sigh, the German headed for the bathroom. Might as well relieve his bladder before going back to his confinement.

He opened the door, and to his utter joy, sitting on the lid of the western style toilet were clothes. Nothing fancy, just a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, along with underwear, shoes and socks.

Schuldig hurried to pull the clothes on. They were a size smaller than he normally wore, but he found they were still a bit baggy. Not that he minded! He was just relishing in the feel of being clothed again. In the pocket of the jeans he found 3000 yen. It wasn't much, but it was enough to buy him a decent meal. Two if he was careful with it.

He stuffed bills back into his pocket and made his way to the door, cracking it a bit and looking out. Intellectually, he knew no one would be out there. Nagi was taking his "nap" and Farfarello was still safely locked away. But the nagging fear would not let him move until he was certain. However once the nagging fear was satisfied, Schuldig opened the door, and strolled down the hall, down the stairs, through the living room and out the door. Just like that. As if he were simply going to the store for a gallon of milk. Once he closed the front door behind him, he took off in a run. There was no direction, no goal, he just had to put as much distance between himself and this house as fast as he could. And his body, despite being weak from lack of exercise, and lack of powers, was still fast. No where near as quick as before, but still impressive nonetheless.

He ran for nearly half an hour before his weary body made him stop, causing him to fall to his knees. Greedy lungs tried to take too much air, racking his thin frame with silent coughs. The German managed to crawl into an alley and sit there, resting against the side of a building. It was several minutes before his body calmed down, although there was still a bit of shaking in his limbs.

He couldn't believe it.

He was free.

If only he could have said something to Nagi, thanked him somehow. But he knew that would be dangerous. Not that running away wasn't, but it would cause it to be more so. The boy obviously had a plan, and he wasn't going to mess it up. From what he understood of precognitives, they generally only See events that are going to happen in the near future, and that behaviors that are typical for a certain person. And while Schuldig running away might seem predictable, Nagi assisting, hell, completely making it happen, was very unusual for the quiet teen who would never disobey a direct order from Crawford.

At least, that's what Schuldig was praying. And it seemed that all of his praying paid off. Two weeks had passed and no one had found him. Yet, at least. The mute gaijin had set up camp in a deserted alley, finding that if he pushed a dumpster away from the wall and flipped the lids opened to prop against the wall, he could have a dry, but smelly, place to sleep.

The big problem though, was he was out of money. It was hard finding a job when you couldn't talk and didn't have a permanent address. For the past few days he's resorted to stealing. But that wouldn't last too long. A tall gaijin with flaming red hair picking pockets in the middle of Tokyo was sure to get caught. It was just a matter of time. And he didn't want to think about what would happen if he ended up in jail. Because of that, he made sure to only spend the cash he found, and throw the rest of the wallet or purse away.

Two weeks stretched into a month, which stretched into half a year. Several times he had been chased off from his makeshift dwellings by police. He almost got caught once and taken in, but by some miracle he'd managed to get away. There was also a month where he had found a source of food in the form of a kind, older woman, who had gray streaks in her jet black hair, and a soft spot for strays..

She'd found him picking through her garbage one night, and instead of screaming for the police, told him to stay put and brought him a small bowl of rice and nato. He hadn't moved from his spot, ready to bolt at any moment like a scared animal. She had just set the bowl down and told him it would be there when he wanted it, then went back inside with her good half a dozen cats. By the time he'd finally had the courage to take the food, every light in the house was out, and it was well past three in the morning. The food was cold by then, but he wasn't going to be picky. He devoured every last grain of rice and then took off before the woman decided to call the police after all. The next time he happened upon the house, the woman just smiled at him and said she had been wondering when he would come back. After three weeks he was coming by every evening. She would give him a bowl of rice and nato and sit on her chair on the porch talking. Schuldig sat on the step, eating and listening, nodding occasionally when the conversation required it. Never once did she ask why he didn't talk, perhaps assuming he was just shy, or embarrassed.

The visits to her stopped when the woman's daughter was visiting one night, and screamed when she saw the filthy, sickly gaijin and ran to call the police. He'd run away without a second look back.

That had been three months ago.

Now Schuldig had been living on the streets for six months. His clothes, the ones Nagi had given to him, were tattered and worn, and his once vibrant orange hair was now greasy and limp, the filth making it more like a rust color. His bones protruded painfully though his skin; he couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds at that point. Top that off with his scruffy, matted orange beard, and he was barely recognizable.

His stomach growled at him as his strolled by the little stores, looking for one inattentive clerk so he could swipe a piece of fruit, or a loaf of bread. Anything to calm his forsaken stomach. This was his third day without any food, and only God knew how long since he'd had an actual meal.

One of the clerks was helping a customer, and everyone was carefully avoiding him, leaving the fruit stand wide opened. He strolled over to the little stand, then snagged two peaches before taking off, ignoring the yelling behind him. The adrenaline poured into his body, giving him the strength to keep going. Then he heard someone behind him, footsteps pounding on the concrete behind him and yelling at him to stop.

Like hell he was going to stop. But his pursuer didn't seem inclined to stop the chase either. Schuldig ran until he thought his lungs were going to pop, and his heart would burst from his chest. He ducked down an alley in a last-ditch effort to shake the other, falling to his knees behind a dumpster and panting hard, for once thankful at the lack of sound from his voice.

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing him to flinch violently and clutch his ill-gotten gains to his chest. He turned his head to look up at his pursuer, fear and worry sparking in his wide, sunken blue eyes. He wanted to die when he felt the tears pricking at his eyes and blurring his vision. Crying over a couple of peaches, what had he come to?

The other man gasped. That wasn't anything new. The state of Schuldig's appearance tended to draw that reaction. Next would be the cell phone and the call to the cops. And he didn't have the energy to get away now. He didn't even have the will. Just let the police take him and lock him away forever for everything.

The German was so busy fretting over his near future, he almost missed his name.

"Schuldig? .. Is that you?"

The redhead blinked to clear his vision, the tears spilling over his cheeks, down his chin, and dripping onto the peaches still in his vice-like grip. A silent gasp escaped his own throat as he recognized the other with his sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. It was the youngest member of Weiss. So they were going to skip the police and just kill him here? It would be better than living like this. And he would rather die before going back to Crawford.

But instead of the sharp prick of a dart, two arms wrap around him in a hug. "God, what happened to you?"

Schuldig sagged into the touch, the months suddenly bearing their combined weight onto him. He pressed his face into the younger man's and sobbed like a child, his precious peaches falling forgotten onto the dirty ground.

Random Author's Notes:

Yay! I'm liking this story. Anyway, for anyone who cares, I do have a writing journal where I post ficlets and drabbles and stuff that I don't post on here. It's at http://www.livejournal.com/users/siberianneko . That's all. ^^