Author Notes:

Alright, I'm reposting here a story that I began writing about a little more than a year ago. It was also the very first of all my work, so please go easy on it, ne? ^__^ I've went over it again, re-edited it, changed a few things here and corrected all the grammar and spelling errors. Back then when I first started this, I had no clue where it was going, and, to be honest, I still don't have much of it. Ehehe…^___^;

Warnings:

Rating will go up for later chapters, attempted humour, shonen ai, and all the other good stuff…Oh, and the main pairing! This is Ran(Aya)/Crawford as in Abyssinian from Weiß trying to hook up with Oracle from Schwarz, so you're warned!^___^ On with the story!!

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Prologue

("The problem of all good plans - They're nothing but theory.")

"O fuck!" That was Yohji. Although it could have been anyone of the four gathered assassins.

They were on their way back from a successful mission when they had stumbled over it in a deserted alley.

´IT´ was a bleeding boy caught up in a spider-like net of thin wires, which resembled Yohji's an awful lot. Those wires were attached to the lowest window of a rundown house and were so tightly wound around his body that the slightest motion of his would inevitably result in chopping himself into tiny pieces. The boy already had several badly bleeding gashes all over his body and wasn't looking like he could take it any longer.

For an incredulous moment, Yohji was wondering just what the heck had moved someone to do something like that when the boy made a soft whimpering sound. It was so soft that even Yohji, who was standing directly in front of him, nearly had overheard it. The boy, who was hardly older than Omi when Yohji had first met him, slowly raised his head and blinked at them with eyes that were misted with pain. The pain he was in was all to clearly written across his face. In an exhaustion-strained, shaken voice he choked out the words "…please . . . help. …… I…can't … any ….. longer …..". Then he fainted. Instantly, Omi dashed over and steadied him before he could succeed in slicing himself up.

"I wonder if he actually knows that we are here..." Yohji mused while he and Ken were holding the wires so that Aya could cut them. As soon as the boy was freed from his restraints, Ken shouldered him.

"What now?" he asked, giving his friends a questioning look.

"What 'what now'?", Yohji inquired. "He needs medical aid, and that quickly!"

"But we can't bring him to a hospital! There'll be too many questions!"

"Kenken, use your head for once. Of course we won't bring him to a hospital! We have enough medical stuff at home to aid him there!"

"I'm against it!", Omi suddenly said. It was the first time that he said something on the matter. Three pairs of eyes turned to him.

"Omi!", Yohji fumed, "Since when are you so cruel?! He's dying right in front of our eyes! Should we just look and do nothing?!"

Instantly, Omi backed away from his agitated friend. Turning a slight shade of red, he stammered "Anou … No!! That's not what I meant! Of course I don't want him to die! I mean, it's- it's just too dangerous to do that! What if he finds out about Weiß? We'll be getting real problems then. We'll probably get killed. And not just the four of us! He too!"

"And how should he do that? He's unconscious!", Yohji retorted angrily. This situation was riling him up. For some reason, he had the feeling that he had to help this kid, and the others were just standing there and doing nothing!

"Ahem, guys?" Ken inquired. "It would really help if you'd find an agreement soon. He's bleeding an awful lot."

Both, Omi and Yohji, stared a moment at him, then turned simultaneously to their leader who had stayed silent until now.

"Aya?", they asked.

The silent redhead stared shortly at them.

" . . . . Let's go home."

And with that, he headed in the direction of their car. With a short glance, Ken followed him, trailed by a smugly grinning Yohji and a worried looking Omi.

_ _ _ _ _

Bradley Crawford woke up with a groan, just to be greeted with a wave of pain in his head.

With a low curse, he put his hands on his throbbing head and waited till the pain started to ebb away. It was nothing unusual for him to wake up with a headache since he had joined Schwarz. Living together with an out-crazed psycho with a thing for knifes, a seemingly always depressed telekinetic and a perverted telepath, whom always tried to peek into your head, could do that to you. But this time it was even worse than usual. Crawford had the feeling that he had just been chewed up and spit out again. Slowly, he undertook a new try to open his eyes. That was when he noticed the bandages.

Nearly all of his arms were tidily wrapped up in white bandages. In fact, he noticed that nearly his whole body was covered with bandages. 'Well, that would explain, why I feel so beaten up.' Carefully he examined the bandages. They were professionally wrapped and covered a series of large, deep cuts. Experimentally, he touched one of them and flinched as a new wave of sharp pain waved over his body. The cuts had to be some days old because no blood followed his rash action, and the bandages were clean. He had no clue how he had gotten them, though.

Blinking, he reached to his bedside-table and fumbled for his glasses. They weren't there.

-And this was definitely not his room!

Alarmed, Crawford sat up and 'Ouch!! Bad mistake!' Slowly, he lowered himself on the bed again, carefully avoiding every hasty movement. After the new pain had subsided, he did a new, much more careful try of finding out where he was.

The room he was in was bright, with sporadic but well-chosen furniture. He was lying in a king-sized bed with silk sheets. Before he was able to take a closer look at his surroundings, the door opened and he found himself gaping at the newcomer.

Crawford knew the well-built, brown-haired youth just too well. 'Siberian!' The iron-clawed Assassin who normally fought against Farfarello. With the slightest note of relief, Crawford noted that the Weiß member was wearing what would be his civilian clothing. It consisted of a simple v-neck, a pair of well-worn denims, and . . . an apron?! He blinked at that. It was definitely a green apron. 'What the hell is he doing in an apron?!' Then another thought struck him. He was alone, obviously hurt, without any weapons; hell, he hadn't even his glasses or anything to wear! Even if he somehow managed to overpower Siberian, he'd still be cornered.

Right then, Ken ended his conversation with whoever was outside and turned around. As soon as he noticed Crawford sitting on the bed, a big grin spread all over his face.

"Ah, so you're finally awake! You slept so long; we weren't even sure if you'd make it. You sure scared the shit out of us kid!"

- - - - End Chapter1/Prologue- - - -