Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Talking To The Dead ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3

"Psst! Kyou! Over here!"

Ken ducked behind a convenient floor display, lying as low as possible while continuing to maintain a view of the nearby customers. "Kyou!"

But rather than attracting the attention of the rather harried-looking newbie florist, the harsh whisper instead caused a giggling group of schoolgirls to investigate. Ken held his body as rigid as possible and sucked in his breath, praying that the girls would not think to look between the refrigeration units in the back of the store in their quest for the perfect bouquet.

His prayers were answered half a minute later, as Kyou made his way to the group and quickly distracted them with a new display of tea roses. He gave a curt nod in Ken's direction and mouthed the words "one minute" as he led the girls up to the register with their purchases. Ken squeezed out from between the refrigeration units and quietly collapsed back to the floor, out of sight.

"Hey, umm, Sena," he heard Kyou's voice call out over the chatter. "I need to take a quick five-minute break. I'll be right back." Not bothering to listen for Sena's answering assent, Ken made for the door, waiting just inside of the building for Kyou to escape.

"Err... sorry about that." Kyou wiped soil-covered hands on his apron self-consciously. "I knew you were there for at least five minutes, but I couldn't for the life of me get away..."

"Welcome to life at the Koneko," Ken quipped.

"Yeah, um, well... I never thought being a florist could be so tiring." Kyou shifted in place, looking down at his feet. "So what did you need?"

It was Ken's turn to feel self-conscious. "Actually, I was going to ask Sena, but it looked like there was no way I'd be able to get him out of there for another half hour."

Kyou smiled knowingly. Ken continued, "Anyhow, Sena told me yesterday that it would be all right if I used one of your computers to do some research for the mission today, since I don't have one of my own.

"And then I got here today, and realized that the computer wasn't where I expected it to be. And I didn't want to intrude on anyone's privacy..."

Kyou nodded, immediately understanding. "Follow me," he called over his shoulder, already making his way upstairs. At the top of the stairs, Kyou made a sharp right into a room that was situated practically behind the staircase.

Ken felt a chill the moment he walked into the room. Oh god, he thought to himself, I am so glad I turned down Sena's offer last night...

It had been many months, but the room looked almost exactly the same as the last time he had seen it. In the far right corner, Kyou stood next to the large oaken desk, gesturing at the desktop machine perched atop.

Steeling himself, Ken crossed the room and joined Kyou, restraining the urge to look around the room surrounding him. It would only awaken unwelcome memories; once-pleasant memories made painful by the events of the recent past. He slipped into the familiar computer chair and wordlessly began booting up the computer while Kyou fussed with something on the floor to the right of the desk.

"Here you go," Kyou offered, setting a thin laptop in the empty space to the right of the keyboard. "I disabled all of the password-protection programs I could manage, but there's still a couple I'm working on. If you think you might need any of the encrypted stuff, let me know later and I'll try to work on it tonight."

Ken was flabbergasted. "You broke the encryption on this machine?" he asked, obviously impressed.

"Well," Kyou stumbled, blushing slightly, "from the look of it, it was obviously meant to be broken. I haven't been able to touch the private files - the encryption was far beyond anything I've encountered before."

Ken nodded; Kyou was more correct than he could possibly know. "Well, regardless, I appreciate your help. Hopefully I'll be able to find something useful in this mess by the time you and Sena escape from the shop."

Kyou flushed. "Speaking of that... I really should go back down there. Sena is probably overwhelmed right now, unless Aya got back early from his deliveries..."

That comment stopped Ken up short.

Aya? Doing deliveries?

What was this world coming to?

Ken nodded, absently watching Kyou leave out of the corner of his eye, as he turned back to consider the two computers at his disposal. The desktop machine had always been the primary machine used for mission research, and was the machine most commonly utilized for filing post-mission reports. He did not doubt that, given a few hours, he could at the very least extract the parameters of the last mission, if not a detailed mission plan.

However, the laptop offered the possibility of finding actual data downloaded during the previous mission. Ken was certain he recognized it when he saw it; it was the same laptop Omi toted with him on countless missions... the same one he had used to get them out of innumerable scrapes...

And probably still holds the information Omi downloaded during the mission, before...

Ken felt the blood drain from his face. He turned away, swallowing hard, and pressed the heels of his hands flat against the desk to force his fingers steady as he brought up a command prompt window on the desktop machine, quickly listing the contents of the home directory.

Scanning the listed files, nothing was readily obvious, and he was about to give up and go about searching via brute force when a folder entitled "Images" distracted him. Frustrated, and a bit curious about the contents, Ken gave into his curiosity and opened the folder.

A quick glance, and he closed the window hastily, stepping back up one level in the file structure hierarchy. The filenames made it immediately evident that the folder was not mission-related.

Shaking, he stood up and walked a circle around the room, trying desperately to calm himself. Those pictures... He balled his fists, looking up at the ceiling as if for guidance. Those were Omi's pictures...

He remembered the day clearly enough. Shortly before Weiss's disbandment, Omi had gotten the four of them together, and insisted on taking pictures of everyone with his new digital camera. At first they were apprehensive, but eventually even surly Aya had been won over by Omi's charm.

Why did the pictures bother him so much? He should have expected to find something like that - especially on a computer that belonged to and had been used by Omi more than anyone else. He exhaled sharply, remorse cut with bitterness rising steeply within his gut. He swallowed, knowing full well that if he continued to function in this current state, he would become a hindrance rather than an aid in the upcoming mission. He needed to get over his grief; he needed to let go...

If only everything surrounding me didn't serve to remind me of him, he thought bitterly.

Angrily, he plopped into the chair and turned his attention back to the computer. He was determined now to find the information he needed; he refused to let his inability to cope with the loss of Omi prevent him from avenging his comrade's death. With a newly focused mind and finely honed determination, Ken set about searching the file system for information once again.

By the time Ken thought to check the computer's clock an hour later, he had found a transcript of the mission objective, a map, and a file containing bios of the programmers presumed to be involved. The map and bios were depressingly familiar; he was fairly certain the map was identical to the one in the mission file Rex had handed him, and he recognized the names of all but two of the programmers from the list of targets for the current mission.

Hell, this is probably the origin of that same list, he thought with resigned bitterness.

And I'm willing to bet the missing programmers have already been eliminated.

The transcript proved to be the most interesting of the data. It detailed a two-man reconnaissance mission, with the overall objective to obtain a copy of the software linked to the suicides. One person was assigned to concentrate on data retrieval, while the second scouted the area and eliminated any potential eyewitnesses.

Ken surmised easily that Omi had accepted the task of data retrieval. He had completed similar missions countless times, and Ken was certain that Kritiker did not employ a single person more skilled in hacking.

What surprised him was the confirmation that a secondary agent had been assigned to the mission. Tactically, it made perfect sense; no matter how excellent the assassin, a reconnaissance mission required the complete attention of the data retrieval specialist, and this particular mission was too risky and too important to allow the agent to go solo.

As his mind distilled the information, Ken felt his blood beginning to boil. When he had first received news of Omi's death, he had automatically assumed that it had been an accident, or the result of his own negligence. But to discover that another agent had been on the same mission - another agent whose specific function had been to watch out for Omi as he concentrated on his mission -

He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, knuckles white, and tried not to hyperventilate. He needed to concentrate, focus; quell his rage long enough that he could find the other bastard assigned to this mission and demand some answers from him.

After he beat the shit out of him.

Scowling at the computer screen, Ken swore as he hit yet another dead-end in his search. He had already searched the mission reports and the mail logs on both machines to no avail, and now the login history appeared useless as well. He slammed his hands against the desk, his patience near-gone and his anger mounting.

"Did the desk do something to offend you?"

Ken spun abruptly in his chair, eyes narrowed, and glared at the man standing silhouetted in the doorway. Two hours of frustrated, futile searching killed any trace of civility that might have otherwise warmed his voice.

"What the hell do you want, Aya?"

Aya moved smoothly across the room, unaffected and impenitent, and took his place against a bookshelf to Ken's left. In direct contrast to Ken, he presented the very picture of calm and complete composure. "Kyou informed me that you were doing research for the next mission. I thought I'd offer my assistance."

Ken turned sullenly away and stared at the computer screen. "How? I've already combed through the entire directory tree looking for clues, and I've hit nothing but dead ends all afternoon!"

Aya remained unperturbed by his teammate's building rage. He regarded Ken coolly. "Then why not try asking the other person involved in the mission?"

"Because no matter how hard I look, I can't find him. Argh!" He slammed his fists on the desk, causing the monitor to shake.

"I'm right here."

The words took a moment to penetrate the haze clouding Ken's mind. He turned slowly, deliberately, and stared Aya directly in the eye. "Explain," he demanded tersely.

"You already received the intelligence report from the mission. Was something unclear?"

Ken's body shook with repressed rage. "'Was something unclear?' Isn't it fucking obvious?!" He rose from the chair and stalked across the room to face Aya. Once there, he reached out and grabbed the other man's shoulders, pulling himself nearly face-to-face with him. His voice was low and deadly, betraying none of the rage that gripped the rest of his body.

"Explain to me why Omi is dead when you were supposed to be protecting him."

Aya met his gaze coldly. "I had nothing to do with Omi's death."

"The hell you didn't!" Ken released Aya suddenly, pushing him hard back against the bookcase. He pulled back and threw his right fist at Aya's face, not particularly caring where it hit so long as it hit hard. Aya dodged easily, grabbing the wrist to hold in place while he blocked Ken's follow-up left hook.

Restraining him completely now by only the wrists, Aya glared harshly at Ken. "Get a hold of yourself, Siberian!"

Ken shook convulsively and continued to fight to free his wrists from Aya's firm hold. When it became clear a minute later that Aya was not going to release him, he abated and ceased struggling, turning his face to the side in shame at his loss of self-control.

Aya waited another minute before releasing his hold on Ken's wrists. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Ken to speak. When it became apparent that Ken was not going to speak, Aya straightened his back and moved as if to leave.

The movement in his peripheral vision startled Ken into speaking. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Since it appears this conversation is over, I am leaving. When you regain control over yourself, you can find me in the den." Aya strode across the room and exited before Ken could think to stop him.

Ken collapsed to the floor and cradled his head in his hands. "Fuck!"

He almost wished that Aya had punched him back. For as much as it would have pissed him off, it probably would have served him right. What the hell had he been thinking? Aya was his teammate, and he had no business attacking him, regardless of the circumstances! It was just... Aya's words, his manner... the callous way he dismissed Omi... it made him so angry, so furious, he could barely control himself!

He shut his eyes and took deep breaths, practicing the calming techniques he had learned during long months spent in the hospital. After two minutes, his heart rate dropped almost back to normal, and he felt the chill grip him that always accompanied a drop in his blood pressure. He hugged his arms around himself and rocked in place until the chill subsided and his body returned to normal.

Finally back in control of himself, Ken staggered to his feet and reached out for the wall, to steady himself. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Riding out his rages always took a lot out of him.

Briefly, he mulled his options for the rest of the afternoon. Attempting to look at the insidious software itself was out of the question. Ken knew his limitations, and with math never having been one of his strong points, statistics was definitely a no-go. He could go back and scour the computer files again, on the slim hope that he managed to overlook something during his previous searches.

Or, he could suck in his pride, and apologize to Aya.

He weighed the final option carefully. While it might cost him a few bruises, he was fairly certain that it was the option with the highest likely success rate among his choices; two minutes of arguing with Aya had yielded more answers than the two hours previous spent hacking around the mission computers.

Resolved to his doom, Ken walked back to the desk and shut down the computers. He jogged down the steps, two at a time, and made a sharp right into the den. Aya sat on the stuffed armchair in the far corner with his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The finance section of today's paper lay folded across his lap, open to first page of the stock listings.

Aya raised his head, acknowledging Ken's presence, as he removed his glasses and placed them on the end table atop the paper he had been reading. "Did you need something?"

Ken smiled thinly. "Look, Aya, I wanted to apologize for going off - "

Aya cut him off with a gesture. "Consider it the past." He gestured to the armchair to his left. Ken walked over and took the seat gratefully. "Do you want to talk now?"

Ken exhaled. "Yeah. I just wanted to ask a few questions."

Aya seemed to consider Ken for a moment. "About the mission, or the aftermath?"

Ken fidgeted. "A little of both, I guess."

Aya leaned back into the armchair and tilted his head back. "I'm not sure I have the sort of answers you're looking for."

"Well, I can't know until I ask, right?" Aya inclined his head in silent affirmation. Steeling himself, Ken braved his first question.

"How did Omi die?"

The silence hung in the air for a moment. Ken looked expectantly at Aya, impatience making his hands twitch.

Aya's brows were knit in a look of confusion. He sighed, the exhalation resounding loudly in the empty room. "I don't know."

"What?!" Ken stared at Aya with wide, shocked eyes. "But - "

"I know that he was shot at least twice during the mission." Aya paused. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully. When he spoke next, it was in a flat, clinical tone. "When I found him, he was lying unconscious at the bottom of the first-floor staircase. I tried to rouse him, but when that failed, I drove him straight to the hospital.

"The last time I saw Omi, the technicians were wheeling him into the operating room on a gurney."

Ken pondered Aya's words. "You didn't go to the viewing?"

"Closed casket."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a spell, each lost in their own thoughts and memories. Ken thought back to the day almost a week ago, bringing flowers to two graves because he did not know which one held Omi's remains.

Suddenly, the answer to that question seemed very important.

"Do you..." he started, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "Do you happen to know which marker Omi's buried under?"

"Neither." Aya spoke quickly, heading off Ken's forthcoming objection. "When Omi discovered his grandfather was still alive, he specified to Kritiker that his remains be sent to his grandfather's estate for proper internment, should he die while on mission."

"Oh." So the markers were nothing more than memorials, he reasoned dourly. Or decoys, his mind whispered, thinking back to the last grave he visited the day he ran into Yohji.

The silence of the room became oppressive. Ken knew there had been more questions he had wanted to ask, but the somber atmosphere, combined with Aya's shocking answers, drove them from the forefront of his mind.

He needed time to think; needed time to sort and reason through the information Aya had imparted, and figure out why it bothered him so much.

And he knew just the place to go.

Deep in thought, Ken rose from the chair and absently began walking to the door. He was halfway across the room when a hand grasped his shoulder tightly, stopping him mid-step.

"Ken..." Aya's voice sounded softly in his ears, his words spoken aloud only for Ken's benefit. "I know you cared deeply about Omi, and that you were closer to him than anyone else."

Ken swallowed, nodding slowly. Aya continued, "But remember that Omi made his own choices, and he lived and died by them.

"Omi will always live on as long as you remember him in your heart." The hand unclasped itself, and the warmth disappeared from his shoulder, but Ken did not move from where he had stopped for a full minute.

His body had begun shaking again.