Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Rain Doesn't Grieve ❯ 28 ( Chapter 28 )

28

 

kieta kimi o omoitsuzukeru koto shika dekinakute

 

Yohji ~ Hauntings

 

“Nein…bitte, nie wieder…tun Sie's nicht…bitte…nein…oh Gott hilf mir!”

 

The foreign words seeped into my dream, making me restless, but that last shriek brought me fully awake with a jolt. For a moment I wondered why I was sleeping in my chair in front of the television. Then the shock of waking wore off and I surged to my feet, heading for the bedroom.

 

Before I could take two steps, Schuldig half ran, half stumbled across the hall and into the bathroom.

 

Acting on pure reflex, I continued on to the bedroom and checked for signs of disturbance. The bed looked totally thrashed, the sheets tangled and soaked through with sweat. The trip-wire I'd secured to the window hadn't been moved, so I could rule out physical attack. It occurred to me then that there was no way I could safeguard Schuldig from any other kind: against another telepath, he would be on his own.

 

From the bathroom came the unmistakable sound of retching.

 

I hurried to check on my guest. Schuldig knelt by the toilet, pale and trembling. Sweat matted his hair in clumps, curtaining his face with random dredlocks.

 

“You all right?”

 

Schuldig nodded vaguely, unable to speak. Another wave of nausea doubled him over again; he clung to the toilet, spittle and tears dripping from his face into the soiled water.

 

By his reaction I knew he hadn't been attacked. He'd had a nightmare, a self-inflicted horror of the sort I knew all too well. Something in my heart trembled at the sight of Schuldig, my former enemy, reduced to this.

 

He looked too vulnerable.

 

Crouching beside him, I gathered his hair back from his face; his skin was burning hot. Changing tactics, I nabbed a washcloth and ran it under cold water until it dripped. By the time I got back to his side, Schuldig was dry-heaving again. Every muscle in his lean frame seemed to be vibrating. I rinsed off his shoulders and the back of his neck, holding his long hair away from the overheated skin. I shook out the washrag until it felt icy cold again, then wadded it up and pressed the knot of chilled fabric against the base of his skull.

 

Schuldig tried to flinch away from it, but I held steady. “No, keep it there. It's a pressure point. It helps with nausea.” I made him hold the washrag in place while I got him a glass of warm water to rinse with, all the while reviewing the situation and convincing myself all over again that this was not, in fact, a mental assault of some kind. I'd seen enough movies with Ken to wonder, and learned just enough from Schuldig himself to worry.

 

After a few tense minutes, I managed to get Schuldig cleaned up some, soaking him in my bathtub until his body temperature came back to normal. He'd gone from overheated to shivering with cold in the blink of an eye; for a while there I worried he was going into shock. But he responded to the warm bath, his skin soaking in the heat and his muscles finally relaxing. He leaned back against the wall, utterly drained.

 

I stared at him, at this drenched alley-cat version of the proud telepath I'd once fought with all the fury of the damned. He seemed so different since the tower, so…human.

 

So haunted.

 

Asuka beckoned to me from the hallway.

 

“Will you be okay for a minute?” I asked Schuldig. “I'll get you some fresh clothes.”

 

He nodded, then sighed. “Someday, maybe, it will all be gone, and I will just be Schuldig…”

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. His voice echoed in my mind, as soft and as empty as cemetery dust.

 

His lips had not moved.

 

Had he meant for me to hear that? How could that be possible? I wasn't a telepath; how could I have heard him as clearly as speech? I swallowed, suddenly uncertain that I'd really `heard' anything; after all, my very own haunt was waiting impatiently a few steps away. As casually as I could, I asked, “Did you say something?”

 

Schuldig shook his head.

 

Passing my most familiar ghost in the doorway, I hurried toward the bedroom. I didn't want to leave Schuldig alone too long; didn't want him passing out and…no, best not to think about that. Cold sweat beaded my forehead as I forced that thought to shut the hell up.

 

“It was just a nightmare, wasn't it?” Asuka asked, her eyes dark and worried.

 

“Someday, maybe, it will all be gone, and I will just be Schuldig…”

 

“Him, or me?” I grabbed a shirt, pair of jeans, and a package of underwear, then turned back toward the bathroom.

 

Asuka stopped me with a hand flat against my chest. Though I couldn't feel the touch, I knew better than to walk through her. “I can't protect you as long as you are protecting him, Yohji.”

 

In a stage whisper I replied, “I don't need your help, Asuka. But he needs mine.”

 

Undying tears sparkled in her eyes as she faded from view. “Be careful, Yohji. You don't know what's chasing him.”

 

I know enough to frighten me, Asuka. I'll be careful. For all our sakes.

 

 

Omi ~ Failure

 

“I see. Thank you, Manx-san. I'll be waiting for his call, then. Good night.” With numb fingers I hung up the phone.

 

The mission had gone badly. Ken…Siberian…had disregarded orders and escalated. The entire sting operation would have to be scrapped. The smugglers were long gone, more dangerous now that half their inventory had been destroyed and they knew someone was on their trail.

 

Damn it.

 

“Damn it!” I shouted, as though hearing my own voice could make the news any different.

 

It had been a gamble, that Ken could return to the field and be a functional operative after his injuries. I had so hoped, for his sake, that he could do this. He'd already lost one manner of livelihood, and much honor with it; to fail at this would break him.

 

And to tell him of his failure might break me.

 

How could I be Persia, cold and ruthless with the lives of my men, my agents, my friends, for God's sake! How could I tell Ken that he was a danger to himself and others and must resign from Weiß?

 

“No, it's not that bad,” I reminded myself, ignoring the unspoken “yet” at the end of that statement. “We all have lapses in judgment. It's part of being human, after all. He'll get better. He never did like taking orders from Aya, anyway. Maybe they're just clashing off each other.”

 

No matter how much I wanted to delude myself, no matter how much I wanted to just put it aside and go back to sleep, I couldn't evade the one simple truth of it. This had become a test, of my strength as Persia, and of Aya's character. As mission leader, he would have to report this mess to me himself. Tradition gave him twenty-four hours to do so.

 

Would he defend Ken, and lie to me?

 

Would he hand Ken over on a platter?

 

Was there a middle road?

 

Levering myself out of bed, I resigned myself to a sleepless night and trudged to the kitchen for some tea.

 

 

 

 

 

A/N:

kieta kimi o omoitsuzukeru koto shika dekinakute

 

I can only keep remembering you who disappeared

“Hoshi no Suna (Stardust)” - Gackt Crescent

 

[A note about that song: it has always reminded me of Jim Croce's “Time in a Bottle”…another very relevant song for every character in the “Cross of Changes” arc.]

 

Yohji ~ Hauntings

“Nein…bitte, nie wieder…tun Sie's nicht…bitte…nein…oh Gott hilf mir!” - “No…please, no more…don't do it (Sir)…please…no…oh God help me!”

 

Ghosts and nightmares, and memory. These are truly the ties that bind.

 

Omi ~ Failure

Again Omi sees through a fractured lens: Persia, or Bombay? Master, or friend? Lord, or brother?

 

And which is the more painful possibility - the loss of Ken, or the betrayal of Aya? The betrayal of Ken by Aya, perhaps? It's nights like these that make Omi wish they'd all just died in the water…