Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Vortex ❯ One-Shot

“Vortex”
By Viridian5
3/6/08

RATING: R; Farfarello/Aya. If m/m interaction bothers you, pass this by.
SPOILERS: small ones for “Mission 13: Bruch-- Rain of Revenge” and “Mission 16: Schatten-- Return to Battle.”
SUMMARY: Aya is caught up in circles.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com.
DISCLAIMERS: All things Weiß Kreuz belong to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiß, Polygram k.k., and Animate Film. No infringement intended.
NOTES: Next in the Psycho Trip series, after “Bare.”
A lot of the mood here was influenced by Collide’s Vortex remix album, mostly “Like You Want to Believe (Antistatic Mix),” “The Lunatics Have Taken Over the Asylum,” “Predator (Final Mix),” “Tempted (Conjure One Mix),” “Like You Want to Believe (Cylab Mix),” and “Wings of Steel (The Sound of Glass Mix).”
Pre-reading by Syvia and Bardsley.

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“Vortex”
By Viridian5
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Aya swept up more broken glass and a bloodied feather from his pillow. The remains of the pillow and several other destroyed things had already gone into the trash bag. The blood-spattered bedspread would have to go as well. He couldn’t imagine sleeping under it now and had already torn it off the bed. He’d set the battered shelf upright again, although the books remained on the floor, some of them lying open or slightly twisted on their covers. Later he would set the books in a neat pile for a more thorough floor sweeping and an easier return to their places. Usually he cleaned like an efficient machine, not stopping until he’d finished the job, but this time he had to keep taking breaks.

Farfarello had brought his violence, destruction, and perversion into Aya’s home, into his bedroom. It made such a perfect metaphor that Aya could vomit.

He came here to escape Weiß and find some small measure of peace. In Aya’s hospital room he was her Ran, and elsewhere he was Weiß’s Aya or Abyssinian. Even when he walked alone on the streets, he had a front. But in his bedroom he was just himself, whomever that was. Then yesterday Farfarello had forced him to draw on his killer self here to defend himself then thoroughly... manhandled him while showing him that he had no ability to resist. He hadn’t thought he had any innocence left to lose. Before, he’d nearly managed to compartmentalize the brutality and sexual attacks as a part of Abyssinian’s life, not quite his. The one mercy Farfarello had shown was that he’d done Aya against a wall instead of on his bed.

Farfarello had told him outright that he’d been a fool to feel safe anywhere. He certainly didn’t feel safe in this room anymore.

The insane freak had to die. Then Aya could start to reclaim some sense of... what? Safety? Peace? Self-respect? Some qualities Aya had lost in his recent battles with Farfarello he knew he’d never get back.

Aya currently had a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. That also made such a perfect metaphor that he could vomit.

Yesterday’s events had left Aya in such a state of high alert that he heard when someone touched the doorknob. A knock quickly followed. He didn’t think a member of Schwarz would knock. Then again they had a sense of humor, and Farfarello had already changed the rules.

“Aya!” Yoji yelled from the other side of the door.

He didn’t want to talk to Yoji any more than he wanted to see Schwarz. Yoji knew too much about this whole disaster and used it to be obnoxious.

“Aya!” Omi yelled. “I know you’re in there. We’re here to help.”

We? Yoji was stubborn enough on his own. Recruiting Omi and probably Ken too, Weiß as a team, made it worse, especially when they decided to “help.” Aya set his broom aside and opened the door a little to peer out.

Omi smiled at him, looking friendly and adorable. Surely no one could shut a door on such a face. Aya could but doubted that Omi and Yoji and Ken standing behind Omi would let him hear the end of it if he did.

Farfarello had somehow destroyed this room’s ability to protect Aya from everyone.

“Did you sleep at all, Aya? You look tired,” Omi said.

“I slept a bit.” He’d slept maybe three cumulative hours in a nest of borrowed blankets and pillows on the couch downstairs.

“Let us help you clean the room up.” Omi had decided not to open the shop today, so they had the time.

Aya didn’t want them watching him cleaning and having tiny breakdowns, especially since he already worried how Omi would report what had happened to him to Kritiker. “It’s mostly done. I already got as much of the blood off the floor as possible. Some of it set in.” If he sounded brisk and unruffled enough, maybe they would leave.

“I mean that Ken and I can finish it up, while you get something to eat with Yoji.”

No, no, and hell no. “I don’t--”

“You didn’t have breakfast today.”

“I’m not hungry.” Nor did he want to eat, and probably have to speak, with Yoji.

“I want you to go out to eat with Yoji. Get away for a bit.”

“I don’t want to go with Yoji.” They would ask why, so Aya said, “He chatters too much.” Ken, at least, could often be stared into submission or at least a distracting physical fight, while Yoji knew too much.

Aya expected Yoji to defend himself or complain about Aya’s characterization of him, but he said nothing. Omi, however, answered, “That’s the whole point. I think you need someone who talks.”

So Yoji would hide behind Omi and let Omi fight for him. Coward.

“I just need some quiet time alone to collect my thoughts.”

“I disagree. That’s the worst thing for you. You’re going out with Yoji.”

If Farfarello heard about this, it would come off as a date but since Aya didn’t know how aware Omi was of the twisted sexual dimensions to Farfarello’s obsession with him he didn’t use that as an excuse not to go. To his thinking, the less Omi knew about that the better.

Instead, desperate, upset that he had fallen to such a low that he had to reveal himself like this, Aya let a small measure of his feelings show on his face as he said, “Alone. Please.” He hated this, but if it worked....

Ken looked uncomfortable, but Aya couldn’t interpret the expression on Yoji’s face at all. From his slight tremble, Omi seemed about to burst with compassion as he said, “It’ll be all right, Aya.”

It would “be all right,” but Omi wouldn’t leave him alone despite his protests. “I have to go out?”

“You have to go out.”

Having voiced his protests multiple times, Aya didn’t see what else he could do that could get him away from their meddling. He wanted to punch Yoji for having that smug, satisfied tilt to his lips and hoped he’d get a chance once they were out away from the others. “I’ll put my coat on.”

They actually followed him around to make sure he went for his coat and didn’t escape. It made Aya burn with rage, but he said nothing, letting his glare do all the talking. Through all that and the walk to the Seven, Yoji’s pleased smirk didn’t fade at all. Aya would make him regret demanding him as lunch company. As a start on that payback, Aya didn’t talk during the car ride, refusing to comment or rise up to any of Yoji’s chatter. He’d said everything he’d wanted to say at home.

The longer Aya’s silence went on, the more confrontational Yoji became. “You don’t do things to help yourself, Aya. Why is that? Do you enjoy marinating alone in your own pain? Are you some kinda masochist? Maybe you’re glad Farfarello is pulling this shit. Maybe you deliberately attracted his attention. This is just the topper you need for your tragic life, right?”

All of that cried out for a scathing rebuttal. Aya almost couldn’t see straight through his rage. “I’m marinating in my tragic life? You’re the one who’s a slut all over town because you don’t dare fall in love again as you continue pining for a woman long dead.”

As pissed off as Yoji looked, it couldn’t possibly match Aya’s anger. “That’s fun marinating! I’m out there living. You should try it.”

“If you were living you’d be looking for a new love instead of having brief flings with a multitude of women where you don’t even have to know their names.”

“You’re full of it!”

“Do you really think I brought Farfarello on myself? Really? You’re a sick fuck,” Aya nearly spat the words out, his chest aching. That accusation would have hurt if he let things Yoji said matter to him.

Yoji looked apologetic. “No. It didn’t even seem like you were listening. I was just trying to get you to talk!”

“You use the team to force me to go out to lunch, you say horrible things to try to force me to talk.... Farfarello forces me to do things too. Why the hell should I do anything with you?”

“It’s not the same! I want you to be well.” When Yoji reached a hand out to touch Aya, Aya recoiled. It wasn’t a flinch. “Aya, I’m sorry about what I said. I’m sorry, Aya.”

“I don’t want to be here.” Aya had pressed himself up against the door, as far from Yoji as he could be short of leaving the car, which sounded wonderful to Aya.

“It’s just a meal. You look like you could use one.”

“If Farfarello finds out he’ll think it’s a date.” Aya half thought it might be some stupid kind of a date, Yoji trying to “heal” him with normal human contact. Yoji read crap romance novels after all. And Schuldig had said that Yoji wanted him....

“You think anybody aside from a psycho would want to date you with how you’ve been looking lately?”

Then again, Schuldig would lie if he thought doing so would help Aya fall on his face. Aya was glad he’d found out without saying anything more obvious.

“Farfarello thinks like a psycho,” Aya answered.

“You’re never going to go outside in case Farfarello gets ideas?”

“I don’t do things that could be construed as dates!”

“We’re just gonna eat. While we eat, Omi and Ken are gonna clean up more so you don’t come home to a mess. We’re here for you, Aya, to help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“All right.” He felt so tired and just wanted to get this over with. “But don’t expect me to talk a lot. I never talk a lot.”

Thankfully, Yoji brought him to a casual place to eat. The warmth inside made Aya’s body loosen a little, making him realize that he’d been huddling into his coat. They had a corner table that put walls at Aya’s back, making him feel a little less exposed and vulnerable. Maybe he could relax a little; surely Yoji could take up some of the slack. He took off his coat, figuring that his long shirt would hide his gun.

Although he still felt angry at Yoji for manipulating him to bring him here and for the ugliness in the car, Aya felt some of his appetite return and said, “You better be paying for this. I didn’t want to go out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yoji sighed and set his menu down. “Fuck, you’re cheap.”

“I have a sister to provide for when we get her back.” Which they would, damn it. “Besides, I’m aggrieved.”

“Okay.” Yoji sounded almost amused now.

After they ordered their food, Yoji murmured, “You’re a cheap date.”

Aya wanted to explode at him. “Yoji, you said-- Don’t even start with--”

“It’s a joke! Just something you say. You know, you could have ordered more.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Aya--”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“All right.” Yoji chattered on for quite a while longer, with Aya trying to tune him out with a little success, until Yoji said, “You suck at this. You can say something.”

As if Aya had invited Yoji out? “If I don’t have anything to say, I don’t say anything. The food’s coming.”

“Thank God.”

It would be stupid to feel insulted.

The meal was very good and gave him an excuse not to talk, not that he should need one. Even Yoji shut up sometimes when he had his mouth full, another benefit. But, once fed, Aya started to doze off. His paranoia wanted to blame it on drugged food, but he knew he’d been running himself hard lately and on little sleep. Stressed-out hypervigilance drained energy as well.

Aya forced his heavy eyelids to open more. “Yoji. I have to get home. I’m falling asleep.”

What did that soft expression on Yoji’s face mean? It better not be pity. “Sure, Aya. I’ll pay our bill.”

Fortunately it didn’t take long to pay and get out, because Aya found it hard to pay as much attention as being in public demanded. His brain and heavy eyelids and body kept betraying him. Almost as soon as he sat himself in the Seven’s passenger seat and Yoji started the car he fell asleep.

He opened his eyes again, half-awake, when the car stopped for a while. They must be home. When he turned his head to face Yoji, he saw Yoji smiling as he held his wire taut between his hands.

“You’re much more trusting than I expected, Aya,” Yoji said as he lunged toward him.

Aya woke up, almost jumping out of the seat, restrained only by his seatbelt. “Fuck, you’re twitchy,” Yoji said as he parked the car in their building’s garage. He didn’t have his wire out; he didn’t threaten.

Breathing hard, struggling for calm, Aya realized he’d had a nightmare. While he wished he could follow the dream’s warning, he knew he couldn’t fight Farfarello without some help, without trusting some people. “Not without cause.” Aya lied, “I may be better after some sleep.”

But when they reached the door to Aya’s room, Omi came out and said, “It’s not done yet.”

Aya fought the urge to throw a fit. “We were gone for a while. What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing! It’s just not done.”

His room no longer provided him shelter and security, and his earlier attempts at resistance had shown him the futility in fighting Omi over it. “I need to sleep.” It worried him that he sounded so vulnerable and petulant.

“You can sleep in my bed,” Yoji answered. Of course.

“No, I really can’t.”

Yoji opened his mouth but a quelling look from Omi made him close it. Interesting. Omi said, “You could sleep in my bed.”

“...all right. Thank you.”

“We upgraded the alarm system and increased our security around the building as well.”

“Good.” He caught the keys Omi tossed him, walked to Omi’s room, and let himself in. Aside from a bit of light clutter of what looked like homework and research, it was clean and organized. Aya took off his coat and shoes and curled up under the blankets. They and the pillow smelled a bit like Omi.

Aya remembered waking up in Yoji’s bed after his welcome-to-Weiß first fistfight with Ken in the shop. The sinfully soft, luxurious sheets and pillows had smelled of cologne with a lightly alcoholic bite and faintly of musk and sweat, not unpleasant but very symbolic of surrender to fleshly temptations and lascivious urges. It wasn’t a bed for sleeping in. By contrast, Omi’s neat bed brought to mind order and control, two things Aya needed very much right now. It soothed him a bit. He could rest here, and he did, letting his eyes close and mind drift into sleep. Still, he wore his gun.

He woke to darkness. How long had he slept? How long had they let him sleep? He looked around until he saw the glowing numbers of Omi’s clock: 1:30 a.m. He’d slept nearly twelve hours.

On non-mission nights wouldn’t Omi be in bed by now? Aya thought he should be but didn’t know for sure. It wasn’t his business when Omi went to sleep.

With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Aya smacked one knee only once and his toes not at all as he looked for and found the light switch. It had the advantage of being near the door. Aya put his shoes and coat on, turned out the light, then left the room and locked it behind him. After his long sleep he felt no urge to get to his own bed. It didn’t help that he had no idea what Omi and Ken might have done to his room.... Aya would find Omi to tell him that he had vacated his bed.

Aya couldn’t tell if Ken and Yoji were in their rooms asleep, although he got the impression of darkness and nothing moving or making noise through the doors. Yoji probably hadn’t come back from a night out carousing yet.

He walked downstairs but didn’t find Omi sitting at the computer or watching TV in their mission room. As he walked through the eerily quiet darkness toward the kitchen, his senses sharpened to the point where he could nearly feel the furniture centimeters away as if it gave off waves his skin could sense so he’d avoid it. Could Omi be doing something in the kitchen that quietly? Aya doubted it, but he’d look there anyway.

The kitchen was dark. Could Omi have stayed out tonight too? It would be ridiculous to get a case of nerves over the possibility of being alone in the house. Usually he’d revel in the quiet. They had lives outside and might be safely living them. He probably didn’t have to worry that they were dead and lying in pools of their own blood.

He didn’t care about them, so there was no reason for them to die like that.

Enough. He could use a snack and some tea to settle himself. He reached for the light switch.

His fingers stopped above the switch when he saw movement outside the window. This could be nothing. He might be a sad, pathetic, paranoid bastard. Regardless, he didn’t turn the light on. He hung back along the wall and counter as he approached the windows and door so he couldn’t be seen moving from the outside. Finally he had his back against the wall alongside the window, his head near the side of the window frame.

“I see you, my rose.”

Of course. Aya hadn’t believed for a moment that Farfarello would give up. Still, he yelled out, “Your leader has forbidden you from this and cut off help from your telepath. Leave!”

“Making you forbidden only makes me want you more. I’ve tasted you and held you in my mouth, but I want everything.”

“Shut up!”

Farfarello chuckled. “Come out and make me.”

Although he wanted to beat the shit out of the lunatic, he knew Farfarello was talking to lure him out of the building so he wouldn’t have to work through the security and alarm systems. He refused to be so manipulated no matter how much his rage and disgust galvanized him or how the adrenaline coursing through him made him need to move.

He fought the urge to yell, “Surely you didn’t think I’d be that easy,” because he doubted he’d like the answer he’d get. “Come and get me” would also be a bad idea.

Farfarello had given him periods of respite, time to heal, before appearing again in the past, but he’d started his attentions under the cover of usual Schwarz activities. Crawford supposedly hadn’t sanctioned yesterday’s home invasion and probably didn’t know about tonight’s visit, suggesting that Farfarello was escalating. If this kept up....

“Go away,” Aya shouted.

“No. Hello, Balinese.”

Shit. Farfarello was just toying with him and trying to get him outside, right?

“What the hell?” Yoji yelled.

Yoji usually stayed out longer, but why would anything work out in Aya’s life? Did Yoji have his watch with him? No matter, he probably didn’t have the reinforced gloves that protected his hands with him.

Aya grabbed two knives from the drain board and had his gun in hand as he opened the door and then the screen door. Although he half-expected alarms to go off, nothing happened. No one had explained how the new system worked or if it needed to be disarmed or set or whether the alarm could pierce ears or was silent. He didn’t know and didn’t have the time to ask.

Someone had left a light on outside the door for a late-returning Yoji--a Weiß custom--so Aya could see Farfarello run toward Yoji, who stood still like an animal caught in the headlights, looking alarmed, confused, and half-drunk. Yoji used to drive home from the clubs until everyone had browbeaten him into getting a cab so he wouldn’t be driving under the influence. If he’d been in the Seven now he could have run Farfarello over or at least stayed safe inside the car.

Aya fired twice at Farfarello’s back, honor be damned. Farfarello must have heard and interpreted the shooting because although Aya had aimed for his heart Farfarello dodged one bullet and took the other through his shoulder. How did he move so quickly? Farfarello grinned as he looked over his bleeding shoulder at Aya.

Aya yelled, “Yoji, get in the house!”

He hoped that Omi and Ken had heard the gunshots and interpreted them and were now readying a defense, but he couldn’t count on it. He hoped Crawford hadn’t been toying with him yesterday when he’d said that Farfarello wouldn’t get any more help from Schuldig or any other member of Schwarz.

Aya watched a new horror break out over Yoji’s face, probably as Yoji realized how he’d been used to get Aya out of the house. Farfarello’s head moved back to look at Yoji, and he made an almost mocking growling sound. Having only a limited number of bullets and two kitchen knives through the belt loops of his pants, Aya kicked the wall hard to try to make enough noise to draw Farfarello’s attention back to him. It worked. He hoped Yoji retained enough brain cells to take advantage of their foe having only one eye.

Farfarello bared his teeth at Aya and breathed faster in excitement, and somehow that made Aya do the same, which seemed to increase Farfarello’s reaction.... Aya remembered the others making him watch some stupid drag racing film in the living room once. As the drivers had waited for the signal to go, they’d loudly revved their engines. This reminded him of that.

He wanted to beat the hell out of something so badly, and here was the architect of his problems. His body ached to move and be used....

“Aya, you don’t have to fight him just because he calls you out!” At least Yoji had waited until he’d reached the door to draw attention to himself again. He just barely dodged one of Farfarello’s thrown knives.

Aya wanted to tell Yoji how he was wrong about that and why Aya had to face Farfarello despite their every fight turning into something that horrifically combined a zombie movie with porn, but he couldn’t form those feelings into words so he just yelled, “Get the hell inside, Yoji!”

“He can’t run from me or this, Balinese,” Farfarello said. “I won’t go away. You kittens can’t hide in your white tower forever. Every time any of you go out I might be waiting to strike. When the littlest kitten goes to school or any of you leave alone to deliver flowers or you go out to drown yourself in drink and lust, I might be there. If my rose runs and keeps running, I will live in every shadow that follows him and anyone he cares about, and he knows this.”

Aya wanted to take care of this alone, but Farfarello didn’t threaten him alone, did he? All of Weiß would be at risk. “Yoji, get inside,” Aya said again. He didn’t want anyone to watch what would come next.

“You set your noisemaker aside, and I set my poniard aside. Knife to knife to make our match fair,” Farfarello just about purred. “Just blades and bodies. You’re good with a gun but don’t like it. It’s so cold and doesn’t let you fall into a frenzied rapture. There’s too much distance, and it doesn’t lead to a connection. Poor kitten, so hungry. I can give you a feast.”

It burned hearing such insights come from that mouth. How had Farfarello known these things about him, things Aya hadn’t even been sure of or able to articulate himself? Had Schuldig told him?

Aya should shoot at Farfarello until he ran out of bullets, then reach for one of the kitchen knives. They were okay knives, but he doubted they’d last long against knives designed for battle. Maybe he could grab one of Farfarello’s; he’d be close enough. Damn it, they’d be very close fighting like that and do a lot of mutual damage. But Farfarello didn’t really want to maim or kill Aya, just get his blood up enough and get him so dazed that his more perverted moves could come into play....

Aya didn’t want this fight because he knew how dirty, in more ways than one, it would get. On his side it would have to be a battle to the death, because, alive, Farfarello threatened everything and everyone in Aya’s life. But a small insane part of Aya looked forward to it: the blood and frenzy, the rush, and the oblivion and surrender of Farfarello’s hands and mouth on him. Sick.

Maybe they should both die.

Farfarello charged, approaching at great speed. “Get in the house, Yoji,” Aya said a final time, vaguely aware that his voice sounded almost dreamy as his thoughts went into a cold focus. With events forcing his hand, he had no more time for dithering or pondering the fairness of what happened to him. Life was. Feeling at peace, he fired his gun several times. Farfarello dodged most of the shots, although one went through his left thigh. Nothing slowed him down.

Out of time and out of bullets, Aya threw his gun aside and grabbed one of the kitchen knives as he darted to the side to try to evade the full force of Farfarello’s rush at him. Unfortunately, Farfarello must have been watching him closely because he moved with him and wrapped an arm around his middle to reel him back. Taking the impact that followed felt like getting hit by a freight train, and Aya grunted in pain and saw his vision go a bit gray. Farfarello’s next move threw him against the wall, with Farfarello grinding him into it.

He usually engaged Farfarello at some distance due to the length of their blades. By the time they fought in closer he’d typically dropped into a berserker state that made it harder to feel pain. His reinforced mission coat provided him more protection than street clothes too. He hissed as Farfarello’s knife sliced through his jacket, shirt, and arm.

Right now he felt very mortal and internally clawed to reach some level of detachment from his body as he slashed at Farfarello with a knife that had never been designed for this kind of use. He tried to ignore his pain and panic and the feel of Farfarello’s hot breath and hard body battering him. Since his opponent didn’t feel pain, Aya had to get in a lethal slash at some kind of major artery, but even in a frenzy Farfarello defended himself against that very well in movement and in his outfitting. He’d arrived dressed for this, something Aya became ever more aware of as his knife’s edge skidded across and bent against Farfarello’s thick leather vest and gauntlets. The leather choker around his neck might have defeated attempts to slice there if Farfarello’s striking head movements hadn’t already made it impossible to reach. He’d headbutted Aya twice already. At least Aya’s adrenaline rush covered some of the pain now.

His defenses ineffectual, his weapon badly outclassed, and wearing regular clothing, he felt completely unlike Abyssinian and very much unlike Aya. He might as well have been Ran fighting for his life here.

“So fervent,” Farfarello murmured, breath hot against Aya’s face.

Stressed beyond its endurance, Aya’s kitchen knife snapped loose from its handle. At least it didn’t cut him as it flew out. Once he’d come home from visiting his sister that day, Aya had railed against this set for its cheapness and told Yoji that the best kind of knife had a tang that went all the way through the handle. Since Yoji had only bought the damned things because Ken had fobbed the chore off on him in favor of going to a soccer practice, Yoji had sullenly asked what the hell difference it made how strong and expensive the kitchen knives were and surely they wouldn’t be whacking on food hard enough to make one of the blades slip free.

This was the difference full tang made. So small a thing as this could save or end a life....

Aya tossed the useless handle away and tried to reach for the other knife, but Farfarello’s knee ramming his gut cut that move short. The force of it made him see stars and nearly vomit. He’d been fighting every attempt Farfarello had previously made to shove or maneuver him away from the building--to get him alone, where he committed the worst acts against him--but he didn’t know if he could keep that up when he currently found it hard to breathe or think and only Farfarello’s hands clutching his jacket kept him upright.

“A valiant fight,” Farfarello said, his face close to Aya’s, his eye half-closed in dreamy pleasure. “Now....” Suddenly he looked less pleased and an expression of near discomfort crossed his face.

“...poisoned! Get away from my family and away from my home!” Omi shouted from above. Perhaps he’d been shouting for a while and Aya had simply failed to hear him over the pounding of his own heart.

Farfarello made a choking sound, and as he moved Aya could see the darts sticking in the back of the lunatic’s arms. How long had they been in there? How long would it take for the poison to do its full work?

Aya fell to his knees and hands as something yanked Farfarello away from him. “Brad is pissed,” Schuldig’s too familiar voice said. “You’re gonna be hanging upside-down for days. Thank me for saving your life later, Farfie.” Schuldig laughed as he sped away with Farfarello moments before Ken slashed at them.

“Damn it!” Ken shouted. But instead of pursuing Schuldig Ken knelt beside Aya and asked, “Are you all right? Aya?”

Aya picked up his gun. “...yes.” He had no idea where the knife blade or handle had ended up.

“Your back is slashed up! Omi’s going to look at you.”

Lacking the energy to protest and figuring it wouldn’t do much good anyway, Aya just answered, “Fine.” He needed to catch his breath anyway. However, he didn’t accept Ken’s help in getting up or support to walk to the house.

Yoji still stood at the door. “I wanted to help separate you, but you guys were moving too fast and fighting too close to one another. No way did I want to tie you two together by accident.”

Still feeling some distant anger toward Yoji over the situation, Aya managed to say, “The knife. That’s why. Full tang.”

Although Yoji’s expression suggested that he thought Aya was nuts, he answered, “Yeah, I see that now.”

“Sit down at the kitchen table to wait for Omi,” Ken said as he closed the door, locked it, and set something on a keypad in the wall. Their alarm system. It would work much better if Aya didn’t get himself lured outside.

If he sat down Aya didn’t know if he’d be able to get up again for a while, but he took a seat and started to peel his jacket off. It stuck to his left arm and back. “Aya, don’t do that yourself!” Omi shouted as he rushed in with their first aid kit. “Yoji, we’re going to have a talk tomorrow.”

Yoji had been sneaking out of the room but stopped at Omi’s tone of voice and said, “Yeah, of course.” Looking nauseated, he left.

Good. Let him worry. After scaring the hell out of Aya tonight he deserved it.

“Do you need anything?” Ken asked Omi.

“No, I think I can handle this.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Give me a call if you need something.”

That left Aya alone with Omi, something he suddenly didn’t want to be, but he said nothing about it and hopefully didn’t show any of his unease. He did hiss a few times when Omi removed his shirt and cleaned the wounds. It all made his skin twitch.

“It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches on any of these,” Omi said. “Aya-kun, why didn’t you tell me the full story of what was going on with Farfarello? I had to guess on my own that he was showing a twisted kind of sexual interest in you.”

“How did you guess that?”

“If he were just beating on you, you wouldn’t be so upset, and tonight I got to watch some of it.”

Farfarello hadn’t even been at his most obvious tonight. “Hnh.”

“I could have made better plans if I’d known.”

“I didn’t want to take the chance of Kritiker laying me out as bait for him and thus Schwarz.” He wouldn’t say that he also didn’t want to talk to the often very young seeming Omi about anything relating to sex, let alone the twisted perversions Farfarello favored.

“That’s a valid concern, but I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“Do you really have that much say in it?”

“I like to think so. All right, you’ve made a very good point. I won’t report that aspect to them. I was surprised that Yoji knew as much about this as he did.”

“I made him swear not to tell.”

“I can be persuasive.” Omi probably had a sunny smile on his face, not that Aya knew for sure with the boy behind his back bandaging him.

“He walked in on a fight that looked far more incriminating than tonight’s, and I had to admit to more than I wanted to. Given a choice, I wouldn’t have told him anything.”

“That makes much more sense. I’m glad to know that.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Half naked, wounded, the adrenaline wearing off, Aya started to shiver. He put his shirt and coat back on.

“Let’s get you to your room.”

When they reached Aya’s room and turned on the light, Aya had more surprises waiting for him. The room smelled more like tea than cleaning products now. His bed had two new pillows and a deep blue comforter that matched the area rug that had been placed over the bloodstains Aya couldn’t get off the floor. His books had been picked up and placed in neat piles on the shelves, although they’d left arranging them on the shelves to him. Two new picture frames sat on the dresser, one containing one of his few remaining family photographs and the other containing the novelty photo taken of himself and Aya-chan at the fair they’d gone to on her 16th birthday. He’d kept them in his books, and they must have fallen out when Omi and Ken had picked them up....

The room looked so much homier now.

“You had no right,” Aya said softly, feeling deeply moved and almost violated all at once. In the accumulated emotional upset he’d faced tonight, he couldn’t figure out what he felt the strongest.

“He became obsessed with you while you were on duty, so Kritiker should pay for damages.”

Kritiker couldn’t begin to pay for his damages. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“You don’t have to live like a refugee.”

“It’s easier.” He partially followed a motto of nonattachment, but a lot of it came out of practicality. In the last few years he’d been constantly moved from place to place and having fewer things meant less packing and trouble.

“These kinds of things aren’t frivolous. They keep us grounded and remind us what we’re doing this for.” Omi took in a deep breath. “And Farfarello is probably trying to use your... nonattachment to make you feel more isolated and help break you away from us. You’re not alone here, Aya-kun.”

“That’s true. Farfarello said straight out that he would attack any of you to strike at me.”

Omi’s expression briefly turned a bit darker and harder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I know that you meant well, Omi, but this room as it is now is very... distracting for me.” He was too tired to throw a major fit like part of him wanted to, but he needed to at least make his displeasure known.

“You barely added anything to the stuff that was here when you arrived. Just look at the new stuff the same way, as belonging to the room instead of you.”

He hated it when Omi handled him but simply said, “All right.” The sooner he got the boy out of here, the faster he could attempt to decompress. But he couldn’t say thank you for what Omi had done to his room.

Omi stood in silence with him for a while then said, “Good night, Aya. Things will be better from now on.”

“Yes. I won’t stop working to make them so.”

Omi left. Maybe he’d finally realized he wouldn’t get anything further from Aya.

Aya turned out the light and kicked off his shoes. At least the furniture remained in the same places, allowing him to navigate by memory in the dark. Keeping his wounds in mind, Aya settled himself on his uninjured side on the bed. The new comforter and pillows smelled artificial and lacked the worn-soft feel he found comforting.

He couldn’t calm himself enough to sleep. As much as he tried to keep everyone else out of this twisted situation with Farfarello, they kept inserting themselves in, while Farfarello professed himself willing and eager to use the rest of Weiß against Aya. They all had him trapped.

  **********************THE END***********************

  More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room version 3.0 at http://viridian.shriftweb.org/

Fandoms represented: Weiß Kreuz, Saiyuki, GetBackers, Trinity Blood, Death Note, Andromeda, due South, Hard Core Logo, Twitch City, X-Files, Once a Thief, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie, Angel, Two Guys and a Girl (was Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place), X-Men, Smallville, Doctor Who, Fight Club, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine