Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Smile in Regret ❯ One of These Days ( Chapter 5 )

Smile in Regret

Chapter 5: “One of These Days”

Fan fic by: Omni-sama

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Ratings, disclaimers, etc, found in prologue.

 

Extra warning: DEATH

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His side hurt. The other man never noticed. He only glared up at him, dark purple eyes flashing in rage. In the man's arms lay the broken puppet, and it was her that he worried over. A dead girl warranted more affection and attention than he did. That realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

It suddenly all became very clear in that moment.

 

All this time he never had a chance. He had wanted that man so much, but none of his feelings would ever be returned. So that was it, then. Even if there had been a chance, it was dead now. It died with that girl.

 

Words were being said. First they tumbled like acid out of the other man's mouth, and then they came out dark and bitter like bad coffee from his own mouth. The actual words meant nothing and were easy to forget. All the emotion rested in the voices and in the eyes. He could not see his own eyes, so he did not know what emotion they exuded. The only eyes he saw were the other man's. There was no love or understanding or even a small sliver of forgiveness in those dark eyes.

 

Without saying another word, he turned and left them. When the others returned home later, they would find no sign of him.

 

*****

 

“Herr Fleischer,” a gentle female voice addressed from the doorway, “You have a visitor.”

 

Intrigued, Yohji turned away from viewing the small TV up on the wall opposite his bed and focused his attention on the young nurse. Why would he have a visitor? “Who is it?” he asked, pleased to hear his voice wasn't so rough today.

 

“Detective Nachtmann,” she responded with a hesitant little smile. She was such a pretty girl, in a very average way. Still, she was someone that he would have easily been able to charm if he was in better condition. While she and the other nurses all seemed to like him, they were not smitten with him as much as sorry for him.

 

He hadn't said anything in response, and she stood there a little anxiously, wondering if she should let the detective in now or not. Finally, he gave a slight nod and she beamed back at him, relieved that she could do something now. The detective was shown in and the door was closed behind him. Once alone with the detective, Yohji took a moment to look him over, while the older man did the same to him.

 

Nachtmann seemed to be in about his early to mid forties, though his eyes seemed even older. For the most part, he was in good shape, although a little on the thin side. His complexion was pale and his dark hair was unkempt. He looked honest, and like he was the kind of man who went into his job with the desire to change the world…but realized all too soon how impossible that dream was. Despite this conclusion, Yohji remained cautious and wary. There have been many dishonest men who were able to appear honest.

 

“So,” the detective started, pulling up a chair next to Yohji's bed and having a seat, “Nanashi Fleischer, correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I suppose you know why I'm here.”

 

“I can imagine, yes.”

 

The detective scratched at his stubble-covered chin and averted his eyes for a moment. “Sorry we did not come sooner. We were waiting for you to recover enough to talk, you see.”

 

“That's understandable. It's difficult to get a report from someone when he has his jaw wired shut.”

 

At that, the detective let out a short exhale from his nose, almost like a little, humorless laugh. “Yes, exactly.”

 

A silence fell over the room as the detective seemed to be studying the linoleum, and Yohji continued to study the detective. Eventually Nachtmann raised his eyes to look back at Yohji's face. Yohji stared right back into the man's shadowed, hazel eyes. He could tell the man was doing his best to look into Yohji's only existing eye and ignore the bandage over part of his face.

 

“So, I suppose my first question would be…do you know who did this? I mean, did you know them? Or, do you think you could describe them?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Nachtmann's eyes blinked in shock. “Yes to what? You know them? You can describe them?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Quickly reaching into an inside pocket of his sports coat, Nachtmann pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “Then, please tell me what you can, Herr Fleischer.”

 

“No.”

 

The hazel eyes stopped looking at the note pad and came back up to study that single green eye in confusion. “No?”

 

“No.”

 

“But…But why? Don't you want us to get who did this to you?”

 

“You can't.”

 

“Can't? Why not?” The detective seemed incredibly confused and more than ready to defend the competency of him and his precinct.

 

Yohji did not answer right away. He continued to study the man for a few moments, still not certain on if the man was a possible Kritiker agent, Estet agent, or just a poor innocent fool who got assigned this potentially dangerous case. Releasing a slight sigh, he decided to give the man the benefit of a doubt, but to remain cautious. He looked away, towards the wall opposite his bed, and relaxed his body into the cushions supporting him.

 

“You see, detective,” he said in a subdued voice of one who knew far too much about a subject and had grown bored with it, “There are those that exist outside the rules restricting the rest of the world. You can't cuff them and bring them in. You won't even be able to find proof that they exist.”

 

“What is this? Some type of big conspiracy theory? Sir, if you're worried about your safety if you talk, I assure you that we can place you in police custody. We'll protect you.”

 

He didn't turn his head to face the detective, but his eye flicked over to catch a glimpse of his expression. The older man seemed to be slightly annoyed but also acted as if he thought he better understood the situation. If he was an innocent, then there was no way he'd ever understand the situation.

 

“There's no need. I'm not an idiot. If I tell you, it won't do anything. And they won't come and kill me. They need me alive. It's the other side that's hunting me now.”

 

Ah, now the confusion was back in those hazel eyes. “What other side? There's someone else after you? Then you really should be placed in protective custody, Mr. Fleischer.”

 

“Look, sir… You're one of three things. You're either with them, with the other side, or totally ignorant to all of this. If you're with them, you don't really need to be here. You guys have done enough and I'm not planning to run anywhere. If you're with the other side, I'm not going back and I know what that means. But I want an Abyssinian cat and no other. If you're an innocent… You should just go home and totally forget about me and this case. There's no point working on it. There will be no evidence. There will be no way to find them. There will be no way to catch them. There will be no way to stop them. Chances are they are like how I was. They aren't really alive.”

 

It was quite interesting watching the confusion grow to contort the man's entire face. It got especially bad when Yohji talked about the “cat.” After staring at Yohji for a few silent minutes, the detective slowly placed his pad and pen back into his inner coat pockets. “I don't know what drugs they're pumping you full of, but they're doing a damn good job.” With that, the older man rose from his seat and started towards the door. “I'll come back another time, maybe. When your head is clearer.”

 

“Not if you're a smart man, sir. And you looked rather intelligent to me.” Yohji directed his attention up at the TV again, picking up the remote control and flipping through the selections of bad German soap operas to find something decent. He hated daytime television…

 

Nachtmann paused at the door, holding it only partway open, and looked back at the bandaged man on the bed. After a few silent moments, he exited, shutting the door firmly behind him. Once more Yohji was left to himself, with only poorly-acted daytime dramas to keep him company.

 

*****

 

It had taken months of reconstructive surgeries and rehabilitation, as well as most of his newly-earned money in order to get Yohji functioning in a somewhat normal fashion again. His body still hurt, more so when it was humid, when his healing joints protested even the slightest movements. Even so, he was finished with hospitals and out on his own again. Conserving what precious little he had left, he rented yet another run-down apartment that looked to be a slightly newer version of his old one. The wood was less stained, and the furniture seemed more stable. The refrigerator still barely held more than a few beers and perhaps a leftover sandwich. It was when he returned from buying more beer to stock the small appliance that everything finally came together.

 

He hadn't noticed anything at first, the intruder having stood in a corner to his left, which was his blind side. After putting a few beers away, he turned around and finally saw him. There was a split second where he was startled, not expecting there to be anyone in his apartment, but the moment passed more quickly than it came and a smile formed on his lips.

 

“You're late,” he said, walking closer to the man in the long gray coat.

 

“Sorry. There were several people we thought might be you. It took a while visiting all of them and making sure they were all dead ends.” Aya stepped away from the wall, but did not go much further. He was dressed in inconspicuous clothing, mostly subdued shades of grayish purple, black, and dark gray. Just a sweater, slacks, and a coat. He did not look the part of an assassin at all, which was much better for walking the streets of Germany unnoticed.

 

“Ah. I thought my trail of breadcrumbs would have been enough. But it seems you guys weren't as quick on the uptake as Schwarz.”

 

Aya's dark eyes roamed over Yohji, their expression mostly serious but Yohji could swear he saw a flicker of something out of place on the man—sadness. “Is that what happened?” asked the redhead, his eyes lingering mostly on the eye patch placed over Yohji's left eye. The scars on his face had been reduced with surgery, and his hair had been allowed to grow back out until it was almost back to its original length. Yohji no longer looked like the pretty boy he once was, but he somehow retained a type of sexual air. It wasn't as charming and seductive as it was in the past, but instead was dark and dangerous and alluring in its own strange way. Aya felt himself take another step towards the man.

 

“Yeah,” Yohji replied as he pulled a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. “Seems you guys moved away, and they thought I'd have some idea where the fuck you'd go. They didn't exactly believe me when I said I left and didn't have a clue.” The lighter clicked, then with one end of the cigarette in his mouth he brought the other to the flame, sucking in until it caught. His green eye flicked over to Aya to take in the man wrinkling his nose at the smoke. Of course, he couldn't help a small snicker as he replaced the lighter in his pocket.

 

“They let you go?” There was suspicion in that voice, as well as honest curiosity.

 

“I'm bait. You should do what you came to do and go. They'll be here soon.”

 

The purple eyes widened slightly at that. “They were expecting this?”

 

“Wanting it, yes. Expecting it? Maybe… They do have a precog, after all…” Smoke was sucked into his lungs then released with a sigh. “The fucking bastard.”

 

Momentarily forgetting his own danger, Aya took another step towards Yohji. “What did they do to you? Besides the…eye…”

 

Removing the cigarette from between his lips, Yohji moved closer until he was only a few inches away from the other man. “I know… I look like shit, right? But God…you're still as hot as I remember. Too bad, though.”

 

Red brows came together in confusion. “`Too bad'? Why?”

 

“Well, even if we did have the time, which we don't, there isn't much we can do anymore…” Holding his cigarette in his left hand, he took Aya's hand with his right and pressed the pale fingers to the front of his tight jeans. He watched in sad, bitter amusement as those violet eyes he had never stopped thinking about took on the familiar signs of want. So it would seem that he was missed while he was away, and that Aya must still want him despite his altered appearance. How he hated Fate.

 

It took a moment for those dark eyes which had grown heavy-lidded from desire to shift into confusion and then all-out shock. The white hand at his crotch pressed firmly, rubbing all along the surprisingly smooth area. At last those eyes were filled with something Yohji had never seen directed his way before. He thought perhaps his own eye was playing a trick on him.

 

“Who did this?” that perfect mouth hissed with so much anger and pain that one would think the deed was done to him.

 

Yohji released Aya's hand and brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a slow puff to maintain his calm, and then waiting until it was fully released before responding. “Crawford seems to be the jealous type. He thought I was going to seduce Schuldig. Though how I was to go about this while being a broken, bloody pile of shit lying helpless in the middle of the floor, I have no idea.”

 

“I'll kill him.” His eyes were determined and his jaw was set. Oh yes, Aya most certainly was pissed. Yohji smirked.

 

“If you want to live to do that, you should probably finish up here and leave. Like I said, I'm bait. The trap will snap closed soon. You don't have much time.”

 

All of the anger and the determination in Aya's face drained away at being reminded of why he was sent. “Yohji… They sent me to kill you.”

 

“I know. You'd better hurry, too. Just make sure it doesn't hurt too much, ok? I've had my fill of pain, thanks.” A humorless smile was on his lightly scarred lips.

 

“Come with me. Come back. It's not too late.”

 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The smile left his lips and he took another drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the floor and crushing it out beneath his shoe. “You don't have time. Do it now and leave.”

 

“Yohji, I did not come here intending to leave without you.”

 

Something seemed to be caught in his throat. He swallowed around it, keeping his eye focused on the crushed remains of his cigarette. “We don't have time, Aya. I didn't stay alive this long with the intention of going back with you when you came. And I knew you'd come. It had to be you.”

 

“I don't know why you left, Yohji, but you can still come back.”

 

His head snapped up and he glared at the man he loved, feeling a hint of moisture gathering in his eye. “Goddammit, Aya! We don't have fucking time for this. You were sent here to do a job, so fucking do it. I have my reasons why I left. Now, hurry the fuck up! I don't want you to end up like I did.”

 

Aya stared at him in silence for a moment, his expression carefully schooled. Then, nodding slightly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a handgun. Yohji was momentarily surprised, but then reasoned to himself it would be easier to conceal than a katana. The blond lowered himself to his knees, and bent his head down, letting his executioner know how he wanted it. He felt the cold muzzle run along his neck and press against the lower back of his head. And then it left him, but he knew it was hovering just where it needed to be.

 

“I didn't realize she had shot you until after you had already walked away… It was then that I saw the blood. I didn't know, Yohji… I'm sor-”

 

Yohji cut him off, unwilling to hear those words that he knew couldn't be entirely sincere. “It wouldn't have mattered even if you'd noticed. I wasn't the person you were concerned about. I never was.”

 

There was a short pause before Aya responded, his voice filled with more regret and sadness than Yohji had ever heard from him. “Yohji… There's something I had wanted to tell you. Something that I realized after you left…something I should have said before. I-”

 

“Don't. Please…just don't.”

 

“But it's true, and I want you to know that-”

 

“Ran…”

 

Aya fell silent at the use of his real name. He felt his jaw clench and his eyes sting as his finger pulled on the trigger. His hand had remained steady, and the bullet, its release muffled by a silencer, had hit its mark perfectly. Yohji felt nothing, and his body fell forward onto the floor. Something in Aya's mind told him to look out the window, and when he did he saw Schuldig and Farfarello on the sidewalk three floors down. He continued to watch as he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial, the gun still gripped firmly in his other hand.

 

After the second ring, Omi's voice came across the line. “Aya-kun? Was it him this time?”

 

“Yes. Mission accomplished.”

 

There was a silence, and he knew that Omi was attempting to come to terms with news of Yohji's death. Most likely the boy had hoped it was another dead end lead, just as he himself had hoped every time he was sent out. “Ah. I see. When are you coming home?”

 

He watched as Schuldig and Farfarello disappeared into the apartment building's entrance. “Do you remember when I told you about the box under my bed that should be given to Aya-chan should anything happen to me?”

 

“Y-Yes…”

 

“Make sure that she gets it. Schwarz are advancing, and there are no alternative escape routes in this rundown building. I'll keep Yohji company.” Before he could get a response from Omi, he clicked the phone off and dropped it to the floor. His foot came down on it repeatedly, and what didn't break was shot by the silenced gun. The weapon was then discarded, it thudding loudly on the wooden floor. Reaching into his coat again, he removed a tiny plastic bag containing one small white pill.

 

Footfalls growing louder outside the door alerted him to the others' proximity, and he carefully removed the pill. Just as the door swung open, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed. In a flash, Schuldig was in front of him, sticking his fingers into his mouth in an attempt to prevent him from doing what had already been done. He laughed bitterly around the fingers, his eyes locked on the German's blue ones until he couldn't see anymore.

 

“Shit!” Schuldig exclaimed, removing his fingers and letting the dead assassin drop bonelessly to the floor beside the other body.

 

“Crawford was wrong this time,” observed Farfarello as he entered the apartment and casually looked around. “And I didn't even get to be the one to kill Brother. How disappointing.”

 

“Shit,” the German muttered again as he paced around a little, running his fingers through his hair as he attempted to think of what to do now. Finally deciding that they should probably just go back and face the music, he called Farfarello to him and started to head back to the door. He paused a few steps from it though, and turned slowly around. His eyes drifted over to Aya's body, where it fell in a way that seemed almost as if he was reaching out for the fallen Yohji. With slow strides, he made his way back over to him and crouched down to brush some of the blood red hair away from the pale face. The dead man's eyes were still open, and Schuldig smirked a little.

 

“Well I'll be goddamned…” Ignoring Farfarello's agreement and following statement about how they all were, he muttered softly, “Red and violet. Son of a bitch.” His eyes turned to Yohji, who was facedown in his own blood. “Protecting him? A lot of fucking good that did you two, huh?” Shaking his head, he stood up and gave Yohji's body a sad smile. “Idiot.”

 

 

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Owari

 

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AN: So… I'm debating on whether or not I should do an alternate ending. You know…one without so much death. Hm… Or just save the happy things for the happy fics…