Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Style Note

 

For reasons that will become clear as we go along, certain segments of dialog and action will be set apart with asterisks before and after the relevant paragraphs. I apologize in advance for any discomfort this may cause, but it is necessary to the structure of the piece. Thank you.

 

 

Author's Note

 

This story begins near the end of the “Weiß Kreuz - Gluhen” sequence. The Koua Academy is in flames, the plans of Esset thwarted, and the psionic hunters slain - but all at a great cost.

 

Brad Crawford has been carried from the ruined building. Medical care awaits, but his wounds are grave. The psi-combat with Berger has taken a deep toll, and the Kritiker medics are not used to healing damage such as this. As Schuldig watches, helpless, from the sidelines, Brad Crawford sinks into a darkness from which he may never return…

 

 

Prologue

 

Passado é passado , o futuro incerto. Você tem não tempo mas agora…

 

Fire.

 

The tower was burning. Again. Always. Third time… I couldn't tell if I was smiling, but I hoped I wasn't. It wouldn't be a pleasant thing for him to have to see.

 

Voices, shouting, screaming… Those sounds were made to accompany flames.

 

Cold metal, the smell of plastic and alcohol - a hospital? Another hospital? Good. Schuldig will be all right now. I've Seen as much.

 

“Brad? Brad! Oh, God - someone help him!”

 

From a distance I listened as someone ripped my sleeve open and struggled to get a needle into the vein. I couldn't feel it, and I couldn't bear to watch. I knew that Schuldig was close by, and if I saw the look in his eyes I would lose what courage I had left. I'd seen that look too many times already.

 

*

“Bradley…”

*

 

I've never believed in God, or angels, or any kind of afterlife more complicated than dust. I've never had a use for it.

 

*

“Bradley…”

*

 

Strange, this sensation of turning within myself, to look behind. The frantic sounds of the triage faded, and the faint beating against my shields faded with them. Schuldig could not follow me here, no matter how desperately he may want to.

 

*

“Bradley.”

 

My breath seemed to catch in my throat, a sensation disconnected from my failing body. “I've missed you.”

 

“I never left.”

 

Warmth replaced the seeping cold, and I relaxed into it for a moment. If this was a dying dream, it was a good one.

 

“Hush now, farmboy. Rest a while.”

 

Yes, I think I will…

 

Time flowed, bent, swept me away and back…back, and down…

*