Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ 19 ( Chapter 19 )

19

 

I may ask for nothing just now

But soon I'll be sick with memories

 

“Shh, it's all right.” The gentle voice reinforced the gentle touch, easing me back toward sleep. “You were dreaming. It's just a dream.”

 

For a moment I couldn't recognize that voice. It sounded like my dad, and my brother, and a golden-haired man I trusted though I knew I shouldn't. It sounded like someone I studied with, and someone I fought beside, and someone I -

 

I woke up. Thin moonlight painted the tiny window in silver.

 

I wasn't in my own bed.

 

Then time set itself right, and I gave Julian's arm a reassuring squeeze. “I'm okay. I didn't mean to worry you.”

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“Not really. I don't much remember it, anyway.” If he knew I was lying, he let me get away with it.

 

In truth, the nightmare clung to me like smoke. It was the tower again.

 

It was always the tower.

 

Donley fidgeted around, and I could hear him digging out a cigarette. The sudden, bright flare from his lighter reminded me of a star going nova before fading to a tiny, sullen glow. He inhaled, then commented softly through the smoke. “Maybe you should have gone to medical, Crawford.”

 

“No!” The answer came faster and harsher than I'd planned. “No, Don, it's not that bad. Really.”

 

None of us needed to say what we were all thinking. It was Sonndheim's fault that Frettchen and Georgie were gone, and he'd just done a number on me.

 

Somehow I didn't think that Sonndheim had been my greatest danger last night. Konnor had only grudgingly allowed me to return to my dorm. There had been something hot and dark in his eyes, and I really hadn't wanted to find out what it might have meant. The thought of my bruised and beaten self giving him any feelings besides pity just made me want to be sick all over again. To give him the benefit of the doubt, I really had no proof that there was anything less than right about his motives, but somehow I just hadn't wanted to stay anywhere near him, especially sleeping.

 

I felt that thin tickle in my head that meant Donley had just waltzed right on in. I gave him my best mental glare and tried to push him back out, but it hurt too much. ::Knock it off, Don. I don't appreciate this.::

 

::I knew your mentor was a creep, Crawford.:: Out loud, Donley said, “You're in specialized training with Sheffield, right? Why isn't she your mentor now? They could do that, you know. Reassign you.”

 

I could just make out Julian's frown in the mostly-dark room. Before he could guess the direction Don was going with this, I stated, “I won't ask. That'd just piss Konnor off. Besides, I can go to her anytime I need to anyway, why do I need to cause trouble like that?”

 

Donley took another drag on his cigarette before snuffing it carefully out against the cinderblock wall. “Your `Konnor' and Herr Sonndheim have a history, Crawford. Did you know that? Ask around. As much as no one wants to be caught talking about it, everyone knows. They hate each other. You do not want to be in the middle of that. See if your primary instructor can take you on. She's not a perv, is she?”

 

“What? No!” I felt my face go red at the very thought of it. “She's - damn, Donley, she's old!”

 

“Like that ever stopped Sonndheim,” Don replied dryly.

 

“No, she's not like that,” I growled, wanting to defend one of the few teachers who had not yet betrayed my trust.

 

“Then you have no good reason not to talk to her,” Julian observed. “Do you, Elvis?”

 

I sighed, clearly outgunned on this one. “No, I guess not. But I'm not going to request a change of mentor.”

 

Don gave a disgusted snort and flopped back onto his bunk. I knew he was thinking that I was content to be Herr General's pet, but that wasn't the point.

 

I knew it was safer to be Konnor's pet than to be the cause of his anger. I'd faced that once already, I was not about to invite it a second time.

 

Julian pulled me back under the blanket, reminding me that sometimes one didn't need to be kept to feel safe.

 

Over the next couple of weeks, my injuries healed while I kept making excuses not to talk with Frau Sheffield outside of lessons. I figured I was okay, the dreams had let up a few days after Sonndheim's punishment, and my visions were behaving themselves the rest of the time.

 

My meetings with Mr. Grant took place twice a week now, giving me something to look forward to. I'd gotten good enough at German to fit in with a regular class, so our evening sessions focused on aptitude testing to see what other languages I should try out for, as well as speech lessons to get rid of my accent. Mr. Grant always kept things light and a little bit fun, and I enjoyed those few hours as a sort of well-loved hobby.

 

Life had taken on a comforting pattern, one that I was in no hurry to change as winter melted away to springtime. It became easier and easier to not even think about my problems with Konnor and Sonndheim, easier and easier to just blend in and not think about much of anything at all. I was beginning to think that my gift had leveled off, that I was as strong as I was ever going to get, that I wouldn't have to worry about it any more.

 

I was wrong.

 

The calendar on my watch told me it was the end of March, but my head said it should still be near the beginning. I'd lost time somewhere. My class notes were complete, showing that I had in fact lived through those days with absolutely no useful memory of it.

 

Everyone around me acted like nothing had changed, nothing was going on. So I acted that way too, though inside I knew something was very wrong. I'd blink myself awake in the lunchroom or in class, visions fading before I could even get a glimpse of them. And no one seemed to notice a damn thing.

 

Of course, it didn't help that I hid well. I wasn't about to let the vultures know how weak I was, and that meant I couldn't even let my friends see it. And I wasn't about to go to Konnor. I remembered his idea of how to get focused again, and while it had been pleasant at the time, it had left me feeling disgusted and used.

 

I sleepwalked through exams and martial arts classes. I wandered like a zombie in the halls. I debated bumming cigarettes from Donley to cover my mental absence.

 

Julian seemed to notice something wasn't right, but he didn't push me to talk. Not at first, anyway. But about the time my watch calendar turned from “3” to “4”, I couldn't stay anchored to the present well enough to carry on a conversation with him anymore.

 

“You don't have to be strong with me, Elvis,” Julian murmured, trying to keep me in the present moment. He dabbed at my face with a wet towel, slipped something small and hard between my lips.

 

I started to spit it out, angry that he'd resort to pills again after being okay without them for so long. Then the hot bite of peppermint zinged right through the roof of my mouth and set my nose on fire. I blinked at him, startled as all hell.

 

Julian smiled. “Thought that would get your attention.”

 

“Damn, that's hot! What was that, anyway?” I tried to tuck the candy into a corner of my mouth where it wouldn't burn so bad, but only succeeded in making my cheek go numb.

 

“Altoids peppermint,” Julian replied. “You like?”

 

“Damn!”

 

“So, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to force-feed you the whole tin?”

 

I laughed in spite of myself. “Is that what they're teaching you over in Gamma division? I thought you were in forensics, not interrogation!”

 

“Hey, I'll do whatever works.” He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. “Whatever it takes to keep you sane, Elvis.”

 

I sighed against his mouth, the hot mint making my tongue tingle. “I'm scared, Jules. I don't want to tell anyone. What if I'm going crazy?” I'd heard what happened to those. There was a special facility off the back of the medical building. People who went in there did not come back out.

 

“You're not going to go crazy,” Julian stated with more certainty than I could easily believe.

 

“You just said you wanted to keep me sane, Jules. That means you're worried too.”

 

He sighed, his eyes deep and warm. Deep, like the ocean… Then he kissed me again, catching me and pulling me back to the surface before I could sink too far.

 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him like a shipwrecked sailor. “I can't stop them, Jules. I can't stop them. They're going to break through, and all I can do is watch.” I heard my voice say those words, my old voice that sounded like Kentucky sunshine, and I honestly did not understand what I was talking about. The visions? Or was it something else? Either way, the feeling of terror and despair would not be denied.

 

“I think,” Julian whispered against my cheek, “that it's high time you had that talk with Frau Sheffield.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

I may ask for nothing just now

But soon I'll be sick with memories

“Brad Crawford's Image Song: Este” - Weiß Kreuz Dramatic Image Album 4: Schwarz Zwei

 

Did Sonndheim indeed shake something loose in Bradley's mind? Was the torment purely physical, or was there another side to it? Sonndheim is a telepath, after all.

 

The question arises: was it simple cruelty, or was there a darker purpose behind it?

 

Then again, this could all just be a matter of Bradley's gift growing at a very awkward time. I doubt that the powers ruling Esset would ever willingly answer my questions anyway.