Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ What No One Knows... ❯ The Worst Kind of Payback ( Chapter 2 )

~Chapter 2~

The Koneko no Sumu Ie was closed on Sundays. It wasn't something they started when they took their jobs, it was just always that way - and they never complained. So, Sundays were the days Yohji liked to sleep in, and Aya decided to do that as well. The blond, however, was forced to wake up early because of the ridiculous dare. He was not happy.

Truth was, the playboy had no idea what his redheaded friend did all day. After their little game last night, he knew that Aya used to read and paint, but he wasn't sure he still did that. Besides, he hated to read for the most part, and he possessed no painting talent whatsoever. So, the only thing he could think to do was go into the swordsman's room and ask him.

Barefoot, he padded down the hallway, knocking softly on his teammate's door. No response. He knocked harder, calling, "Oi! Aya, you awake?" The blond cautiously tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Slowly, he crept his way inside, mindful of the redhead sleeping across the room.

The sight Yohji saw nearly made him halt in his tracks. Despite their little tryst the previous night, he had never seen the swordsman look so utterly…exposed. He was lying on his side, facing the playboy, sheets draped across his hips, all creamy white skin as far as the eye could see. The blond wished he had his camera.

There was just something about the way the filtered light reflected off his hair and skin, or perhaps it was the relaxed and serene expression on his face, but Yohji almost didn't want to destroy such beauty by waking him. However, he realized he didn't have much of a choice if he were to continue with the dare.

He approached the slumbering figure, resting one hand on the edge of the bed, the other reaching out impulsively to stroke soft, red bangs. "Aya," he whispered, leaning closer.

As if on command, the swordsman leaned into the caress, and a soft, almost breathy noise escaped his lips, but he did not waken. Seemingly of its own will, Yohji's hand traveled from the vivid hair, down over a warm cheek, pausing to brush a thumb over soft, pink lips before continuing down the graceful neck towards the slender waist. Again, Aya sighed, mouth and lips moving, but no sound issuing forth.

The redhead turned onto his back, the faded yellow sheets slipping just below rounded hipbones, exposing the slightest hint of crimson hair below that. So he's a natural redhead after all, the blond mused, a faint smirk blossoming on his lips.

Almost on cue, sleepy, violet eyes blinked open, adjusting to the late morning light and the person hovering over him. Fine brows drew together as the image came into focus. "Yohji, what are you doing here?"

Startled, the playboy straightened himself, stuttering, "Well, I…uh…I came to…wake you up." Does that sound like as much of a lie to him as it does to me?

The swordsman was even more confused. "Why?"

"Because I…" the blond faltered. Why *had* he come here? Looking at the obviously nude redhead seemed to turn his brain to fuzz. "I don't remember."

Aya simply stared at him. "You don't remember? Then why are you still here?" Had Yohji come back for a repeat of what had happened at the beach last night? He tried not to get his hopes up. "Did you want something?"

For a moment, the blond startled, his mind wavering between the two very different connotations to that same question. Yes, he wanted something, but could he have it? "Actually, I…" There was no way he could do this. "Dammit, Aya, why do you have to be so irresistibly sexy?"

In less than a breath, he was on the bed, lips melding with the redhead's. Their mouths opened, tongues gaining access and warring for dominance. A hand came up to twine in golden blond tresses, and Yohji allowed himself to be pulled atop his slim lover.

The swordsman freed his mouth long enough to whisper, "I was wondering when you'd show up."

~*~

It was some time later, when they were lying together in sated silence that Yohji finally remembered. He was on his side, facing away from his partner, who was pressed against his back, lazily kissing his neck and bared shoulder. "Oh!" he suddenly blurted, "I finally remembered why I came in here." Rolling onto his back, he looked up into the amethyst-colored eyes of the redhead. "What is it that you do all day when you don't have to work?"

Smirking, the swordsman answered, "This."

Yohji eyed him suspiciously. "I've been called a dumb blond before, but I sure as hell know you haven't spent every Sunday for the past three years having sex with me - not that it's a *bad* way to spend your time."

Aya's grin widened as he clarified, "No, I haven't, and no it's not, but it's something I do more regularly than one might think." He laid his head down on the playboy's chest, one arm curling around the trim waist. "Sometimes, on my days off, I train, sometimes I run errands, sometimes I pick up one of my old hobbies, and sometimes, I pick up dates."

"Oh," was the blond's response. He rested his chin on the top of Aya's crimson head, letting lethargy claim his weary body. Yawning, he mumbled, "There's still so much I don't know about you…but I'd like to learn."

"Maybe you will," came the soft reply. Yohji's breaths became drawn out and even, and the redhead allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by his lover's steady heartbeat.

~*~

A hard knock at his door woke him from his slumber. "Aya-kun! Aya-kun!" It was Omi. "We have a mission."

Taking a moment to look at his current state, he called out, "I'll be there in a minute."

"Yokatta. Have you seen Yohji-kun? I can't find him," the boy questioned.

Knowing the truth would not be wise to reveal at the moment, the swordsman stated, "I have a feeling I know where he is. I'll get him." Gently, he shook the blond sleeping next to him. "Yohji, we have a mission. Get up and put your clothes on." With that, he was up, gathering a clean pair of jeans and a snug t-shirt, leaving the groggy playboy to his own devices.

Aya was already in the mission room when Yohji came trudging down the stairs, rubbing sleepy eyes and stretching cramped muscles. "Now that you're all here," Manx stated, staring pointedly at the blond, "let's get started."

Birman was the one to give them their night's mission. "We have located the laboratory where the three remaining members of Schreient are hiding. From our understanding, they also have Aya-chan."

"I'll take this mission," the redhead spoke up. Anything, if it means getting her back.

The other members of Weiß were quick to protest. "Aya-kun, you can't go by yourself!" Omi chimed.

"You know they don't fight fair," Ken argued. "I mean, you saw what happened to Yohji."

After a momentary bout of nostalgia, the aforementioned playboy stated, "I'll go, too. There's no way I can let them get away with what they did to Asuka."

"Then, are the rest of you in?" Manx questioned.

Omi and Ken's response was an emphatic, "Yes."

As soon as that matter was settled, the swordsman vacated the room, not sparing a word for his teammates. Quickly, however, Yohji caught up to him. "Oi, Aya!" The redhead merely acknowledged him and continued walking. "You knew you couldn't do this on your own. Why be so rash?"

"My sister's there, Yohji. Aya comes before everything - you know that. And I will do anything to get her back," Aya explained.

The blond regarded him carefully. "You don't care that this might be a trap?"

The redhead turned on him, amethyst eyes boring into jade. "*You* didn't."

"Point taken." After a pause, the playboy softly continued, "Just…don't do anything reckless."

The swordsman entered his room, quickly changing into the familiar black leather of his assassin gear. "I could ask the same of you."

Yohji came to within a foot of his friend, grasping him harshly by the arms. "I'm serious, Aya! They took Asuka from me; I don't want them to take you, too."

Aya's eyes grew cold, and he tore free from the blond's grip. "Don't act like I don't have a chance with them, Yohji. What do I matter to you, anyway? I'm not a replacement for your Asuka."

"What do you want me to tell you, Aya? Am I supposed to say you're just another fucktoy? That all I care about is your body, and nothing else matters as long as we can sleep together? Or do you want me to tell you I love you? Do you want to find out I've had secret feelings for you for years and I was too afraid to share them? I don't know what this is, Aya. It's…more than just a fling - at least I'd like to think so. I just can't tell you *what*."

Closing the last buckle on his jacket, the redhead grabbed Yohji by his shirt, pulling him closer until their lips met roughly. Before the playboy had enough semblance of reason to return the kiss, he was being pushed back, out of the room. "Get out."

"What?"

"I don't have time to argue with you. Get out."

The door slammed in the blond's face, leaving him puzzled on the opposite side. "Aya!" He pounded his fist against the wood, although it was of little use.

"Pay attention to the mission, Yohji," the swordsman chided. "If you still want to argue, we can argue afterward."

"Then make sure you come back," the playboy ordered as he retreated back to his own room. Please, Aya. I don't want to go through this again.

Getting into the laboratory proved more difficult than they had first thought. After clearing numerous explosive devices, dodging cameras and an electric fence, Aya was the first one in, driven solely by his desire to get his sister back. The other three members of Weiß posed as backup, should the situation become too sticky for him alone to handle. Yohji had been reprimanded by the redhead for suggesting he act as a decoy. He supposed Aya was right - killing Asuka had made him lose his senses, but it seemed like a better idea to him than letting their self-appointed leader face the three women on his own.

Left to think about the swordsman's words, the blond hung a little behind the others, still outside of the building. Hearing a sound to his right, he turned, but remained well hidden in case it happened to be the enemy, drawing his wire as a precaution. It was the youngest member of Schreient, and the boy from Schwarz - Nagi - if memory served him right. He seemed to be trying to convince her not to fight, because he didn't want her to die. Yohji wanted to tell him it was of no use - if you had a cause, no one could ever talk you out of it. It wouldn't work with Aya, and it wouldn't work with this girl. However, he didn't want to spoil what very well could have been their last, or perhaps first, romantic moment. Timidly, he leaned forward to kiss her, accidentally bumping noses instead. The sight was innocent enough to make Yohji pity the fact that sooner or later, both of them would inevitably be killed at the hands of Weiß.

"When this is over," she whispered in her girlish voice, "let's live together, Nagi-kun." And then, she was running off to join the rest of her teammates in battle - where Aya and the others were now.

That thought jolted the playboy out of his reverie, and he hurried to stake his position outside one of the main windows, waiting impatiently for a sign that he should join the fight. A choked cry emanated from the room next to where he stood, and he was up and inside mere seconds after Ken slashed through the whip wrapped around the redhead's delicate neck.

With the odds four to three in favor or Weiß, Schreient posed little of a threat. It wasn't until Schwarz showed up unexpectedly that things began to turn ugly. A knife to the tank containing Masafumi's unconscious body marked the beginning of the female assassins' downfall.

Mere minutes later, Shen's fatally wounded body came crashing through a second story window. All fighting had since ceased, in favor of seeing what would next unfold. So far, no one on Weiß's side had been badly injured, simply remaining on guard and watching their enemies closely.

It was then that Tot decided to try to take back their hostage. The redhead noticed her objective then, lying motionless in the arms of Schwarz' German, Schuldich. "Aya!" he cried out, at nearly the same instant Farfarello's remaining knife pierced Tot's chest.

Suddenly, glass was shattering and walls began to crumble as a distraught Nagi used his telekinetic powers to bring down the entire research center. Right before the roof caved in, Yohji caught Aya rushing up the stairs toward his sister and her captors. But then, the building collapsed, sending each assassin in a separate direction, and he lost sight of the swordsman.

In an understandable amount of pain, the blond clawed his way out from under a pile of rubble, noticing Ken and Omi had made it out safely. He spared a sympathetic glance for Tot and Nagi, the unfortunate couple who didn't survive the battle, when a thought occurred to him.

"Have either of you seen Aya?" he questioned, voice hopefully sounding less frantic than he was feeling at the time. Please, *please* let him be here somewhere!

The youngest boy gasped. "That's right! I haven't seen Aya-kun. D-Do you think he's all right?"

Thinking back, the playboy stated, "Right before the roof caved in, I remember seeing him running towards Schwarz and Aya-chan."

"You don't think he got kidnapped, do you?" the honey-haired boy asked, worry tainting his soft voice.

Yohji tried to think optimistically. "I don't think that guy would *let* himself get kidnapped - especially by *those* guys." Please let me be right.

Something amidst the rubble caught Ken's eye, and he bent down to retrieve it. "Oi! Look! So, does this mean…?" he trailed off.

The blond's jade eyes opened impossibly wide. "K'so." There, in the brunet's hands, was Aya's katana. "Those Schwarz bastards must've gotten him after all; he couldn't fight back." This is my fault…it *has* to be. I never got to apologize. If anything happens to him, I *swear* I'll kill all of those bastards personally.

"Omi, we have to get home *now*," he commanded. "I need you to locate where they went. I'm sure Aya's depending on us to save him."

The teen nodded sternly and the three rushed back to the Koneko in hopes of finding their missing teammate.

~*~

During the fight with Schwarz, Aya had been knocked unconscious by a harsh blow from Farfarello, and now that he was growing more alert, he realized he had no idea where he was. Obviously, he must've been at the enemy's headquarters, but more specifically, in a…bedroom? This was nowhere close to being good.

A door opened then, and both Farfarello and Schuldich walked in. "Oh, the kitty's awake," the German commented with a wide smirk. Aya would have retaliated, but he found that his motions had been quite restricted, so he settled for an icy scowl. "Ah, don't think we weren't prepared for that," he continued.

The swordsman fervently hoped that one of his teammates would burst through the door any second and save him - as humiliating as that would be for him. Schuldich merely continued smirking, coming closer to the bed where Aya was being held captive, and running a hand down his cheek. "What would be the fun in that?" the mind reader taunted. "There's no possible way the other kitties will find you here."

He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway to give instructions to his teammate. "He's all yours, Farfarello. Do what you want with him - just don't kill him. We need him to lure the other kittens." With that, he left, teasing, "Have fun, Weiß."

The Irishman closed the door and approached the suddenly fearful redhead. Struggling was of no use, as the bonds around his wrists and ankles were impeccably well constructed. Even if he had managed to free himself, he was missing his precious katana, rendering him relatively useless.

From his previous experiences with Schwarz, he didn't think Farfarello was a particularly talkative person, but what he lacked in verbosity only served to make him appear more wild and unpredictable. And right now, Aya was filled with nervous apprehension over what the golden-eyed man's idea of `fun' was. He had his suspicions, but he prayed he was wrong.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. In one swift movement, the Irishman was on the bed with him, straddling slim hips and bending down to claim an unwilling Aya's lips. He resisted as long as possible, and at the feel of a tongue forcing its way into his mouth, he reflexively bit down on the unwelcome intruder.

This did not bode well with Farfarello. Although unable to feel physical pain, he knew what was *supposed* to hurt. So when teeth dug into his tongue, he retaliated by biting down rather harshly on the redhead's lower lip. It took the swordsman nearly all of his restraint not to cry out as he felt the sensitive flesh tear.

"You are not allowed to hurt me," the golden-eyed man lectured, breaking away just enough to lap at the fresh blood leaking from his captive's wound. "I may not be permitted to kill you, but I can always make you wish you *were* dead. I hope you've learned your lesson."

Aya glared at him, hissing, "And I hope you realize that as soon as you free me, I will come for your life. Whether I'm wounded or not, *you* will be the one to die." That remark, naturally, earned him a vicious slap to his left cheek. It would've been more bearable had Farfarello not been wearing a ring at the time.

The swordsman winced as the pain seemed to skitter across his entire face, and Farfarello chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. "You talk big, Weiß, but I think I'd rather hear your screams than your words. Maybe they'll be loud enough to wake your sister, hmm?"

At the last comment, the redhead's eyes narrowed into slits. Anything but that! "Kisama!" he growled. "You leave my sister out of this. This is just between us. Whatever you do, you do…to me alone."

"You'll regret saying that," the Irishman warned, closing in on a sensitive part of Aya's neck, sucking hard until the blood rushed to the surface, tingling and warm.

I already do, the swordsman thought, restraining a cry as teeth sank into his collarbone. Schwarz' madman, he knew, was not exactly peace-minded, and had a visibly obvious taste for self-mutilation. Whatever would happen for the duration of his captivity - and with a sickening sense of defeat, he admitted he was right after all - was going to be scarring on more than just a mental and emotional level.

The golden-eyed man reached into his pocket and pulled out a short knife, licking it almost suggestively as his visible eye seemed to pierce through Aya, making him decidedly more edgy. The tip of the sharp metal met the black linen collar of the redhead's shirt, slicing its way through as easily as cutting meringue. "What's your name, kitten?"

In his mind, the redhead debated whether or not to disclose that information. There's not much more I can lose by telling him, he convinced himself. "Aya," he whispered, almost inaudibly. It left him with a strange sense of defeat, as if in giving away even this much of himself, he had lost the battle.

"What?"

The swordsman spoke up, "Aya."

Farfarello laughed. "Aya? That's a girl's name. That's your *sister's* name."

"*I* am Aya," the redhead sternly clarified. He would not allow his oath to his sister to be made fun of.

The knife completed its path down his shirt, and the Irishman peeled both halves aside to gain his first look at the soft, ivory flesh below. He hadn't pressed hard enough to draw blood; he just scratched an almost invisible line down the center of his chest. "Very well then," Farfarello teased, running his hands possessively over the flawless skin, "if you insist on being the girl…"

Aya's protest died in his throat and his breath caught as teeth clamped down on a sensitive nipple. His breathing was unsteady and his entire body flushed with anger at the disturbing realization that this was *real* and there was nothing he could do to stop it. None of his previous lovers had ever been *this* rough - and they hadn't even gotten past foreplay. If only Yohji would… The thought stopped suddenly. No, he would never want the playboy to see him so utterly helpless, so…defiled. But was there a way out otherwise? He didn't see one.

The golden-eyed man was still busy playing with his new `toy', biting here, sucking there, and leaving all sorts of embarrassing marks across the redhead's torso. It was beginning to agitate him that his captive was not as vocal and rebellious as he would've liked. Well, there were ways of changing that.

Farfarello lifted himself off of the swordsman, resting between his forcibly spread legs as his hands stroked over the leather-clad juncture of his thighs, deftly opening the pants and inching them down his tense and trembling legs. It appeared he would have to undo Aya's ankle bonds if he wanted to get the pants off correctly. Swiftly, he did so, and the redhead was wise enough not to make any moves against him. Now, the real fun would begin.

Aya was still resisting, trying hard to reach a state of mental numbness where what was happening would no longer matter. Truth was, he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen. Afraid that he would mistake this rough touch for Yohji's softer one. Afraid that someone would see him like this. But most of all, he was afraid of the time when his mind would lose the war with his body and start to respond to the sexual stimuli - as repulsive as he found it. So far, though, the only thing he could not control was his breathing.

Picking up his knife again, the Irishman grinned wickedly, taunting, "Let's see if you really are a *true* redhead." The redhead in question couldn't help but hold his breath as the knife first cut through the elastic of his boxers.

Immediately, pain flared up from his abdomen, and Aya gasped. This time, the madman had pressed harder, cutting through the tender flesh. I can deal with this, the swordsman told himself. Pain is bearable. I will not give him the satisfaction of screaming. Sweat began to bead on his brow and his hands clenched into tight fists as the knife moved ever so slowly downward, slicing through green satin as well as the skin below it.

Another two inches, and all doubts would be dispelled, but could the redhead hold out that long? He was being careful not to move, lest the metal cut too deep. However, the pain of such a slow incision was far worse than that of a quick one. Aya's head tossed back and he broke down, crying out, "Yamete!"

This seemed to be what the golden-eyed man wanted to hear, as he let up the pressure of the knife, tearing the flimsy material the rest of the way off. Again, he smirked, hot breath ghosting over the swordsman's thighs as he remarked, "I guess the color's natural after all." With one long stroke of his tongue, Farfarello lapped up the trail of blood running down the length of the fresh wound.

Aya shuddered, overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. Maybe, if he were lucky, he'd pass out from blood loss before the Irishman decided to take things any further. Then, he could wake up and delude himself into believing nothing ever happened. Sadly, though, he knew that wishing for that was like wishing he had been born blond.

As the redhead lay panting in anguish on the bed that seemed too comfortable for such an abhorrent act, the golden-eyed man was busy marking the trembling thighs with his mouth. He moved up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, leaving deep red bruises as he went. All at once, he was gone, sitting up and threatening, "If you're not louder, little Aya, you might not walk away from this on your own two feet. I suggest you do something about that…unless you happen to be more masochistic than you appear."

The swordsman watched with morbid fascination as Farfarello's hands fell to the buttons on his jacket, quickly tossing the unwanted garment aside and moving on to the closures on his pants, discarding them nearly as quickly.

Aya was frantic with both anger and trepidation. Anything but that! *Anything*! He thrashed wildly within his bonds, desperately searching for any weakness in their construction. With an amused smirk, the madman watched the futile struggles of his captive, noticing the trickle of blood leaking from wrists rubbed raw.

All motion ceased abruptly as the knife was once again picked up. "Struggling and screaming are two different things," the Irishman lectured. "I want to hear your screams, little Aya. You disappoint me, you know the consequences."

Next to the earlier gash, Farfarello once again put the knife to skin, cutting a shorter line horizontally across his abdomen. The swordsman was panting again, eyes betraying an equal mix of anger and pain. "Temee," he ground out, "You'll regret this."

Another slash marked its path below the first one, and Aya hissed out a shaky breath, twisting in agony. "Fuck you," he spat, blunt nails digging furrows into his palms as he tried to focus on any other pain.

"No, no, kitten," the golden-eyed man chided, "*you* were the one who wanted to be the girl." As one last blade-induced punishment, one more line was carved into what was once flawless ivory skin, the three wounds forming a distinct `F' across the redhead's abdomen. Aya prayed desperately that - of all marks - wouldn't leave a scar.

Placing one hand at the back of the swordsman's knees, Farfarello lifted the redhead's legs as much as his bonds would allow, sliding his own thighs underneath in preparation for their next act.

"Don't you *dare*!" Aya threatened, fighting hopelessly to escape the madman's grip. I will never survive this, he though with dismay. It's all too much. I don't want this. I can't handle it. What I want…what I *really* want is…Yohji…

The golden-eyed man teased, "Well, I don't think you have much of a choice, do you?" as he roughly shoved two fingers into the unsuspecting redhead.

The swordsman's body writhed and twisted, seeking escape from this torture, and he made a soft, pained noise in his throat. He tossed his head back as yet another finger forced its way in, tearing his fragile insides. "Y-Yamete!" he choked out, almost certain he would pass out yet. Whether from pain or blood loss, he didn't know; he just hoped it was soon.

For a moment, he was granted his request, but then something much larger and more painful plunged into him, and Aya couldn't restrain his cry. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and he felt like he was being split open as Farfarello thrust into him again and again.

"That's it, Aya," the Irishman stated, "Scream some more. I want to hear it." His hands had a hold on the swordsman's hips, squeezing with a bruising grip as he roughly pummeled his captive into the mattress.

Aya gave up trying to escape, crying in anguish at what he had been reduced to and at how utterly helpless he truly was. With any luck, the madman would finish soon and lose interest in him. Then, maybe he could at least die in peace.

The golden-eyed man's hands moved up to the redhead's sides, and his fingernails bit into the soft skin, raking downward. After only a few more hard thrusts, he was filling Aya with the force of his release.

For the swordsman, it seemed a bittersweet ending. Pain burned out from inside him, spreading from the palms of his hands to his bound ankles. It was a chore for him to simply breathe now, and he ruefully wondered why he hadn't died.

Farfarello pulled out, leaning over the redhead to lick away fresh blood from the already wounded lip Aya had bitten to keep from crying out. "You scream very nicely, little Aya," were his only words before he was off the bed entirely, gathering his discarded clothing. Suddenly, the door opened.

Yohji? Was the swordsman's immediate thought. Please let it be him. I want to go home. I want to be anywhere but here! In the doorway stood a very curious Nagi Naoe.

"What was all that noise?" he questioned, slowly approaching the bed. "Aa, I see. You've caught yourself a Weiß kitten." His hand came up then, striking Aya sharply across his uninjured cheek. "That's for Tot," he hissed. "If it hadn't been for your stupid sister, none of this would've happened!"

The now-clothed Irishman remarked, "He's all yours, kid - but orders are we can't kill him." He walked toward the door, letting himself out and shutting it behind him.

After being struck by Schwarz' youngest member, the redhead hadn't the strength or the will to even turn his head back to face the boy. He simply lay utterly broken and trembling in pain, thinking, not again! He couldn't possibly want to violate me more. I'll never survive it. What did I do to deserve this?

Nagi moved closer, stroking one small hand down the cheek he had slapped, remarking, "Farfarello really did a number on you. But don't worry - with me, it'll be completely different. I hope you're up for some more fun, kitten."

~*~

"What do you *mean* you can't find him?" Yohji irately shouted at the honey-haired boy sitting in front of the computer. "He didn't just *disappear*! He's obviously out there *somewhere*. You're just not looking hard enough."

Omi sighed at his frustrated teammate's outburst. "Maa, maa, Yohji-kun," he placated, "I've done everything I can. They escaped by helicopter, right? Well, I checked the radar of three different airports in the area, as well as that of the air force, but none of them even so much as *registered* a helicopter on them. I can't track them down if they leave no trace. Gomen nasai." He stared down at his lap dejectedly.

The playboy sighed, falling onto his back on the mission room's couch. "No, *I'm* the one who should apologize," he quietly stated. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just…want Aya back is all." Please God, let him be all right. I can't lose him too.

"We all want him back, Yohji," Ken chimed. "But there's only so much we can do - even *with* Kritiker to back us up. You'll just…have to be patient."

Suddenly, the blond was on his feet. "I can't just sit around here knowing that Aya's out there somewhere and he needs our help. I'm going for a drive. I…I need to clear my head." He was out the door before anyone had the chance to stop him.

Yohji had no particular destination in mind as he hopped into Seven. He only knew that he needed to get out, go fast, and stop focusing on his kidnapped teammate. More than anything, he wanted the redhead back - even if he *did* have a penchant for being a bastard. But sadly, he had no clues and no idea where to even *begin* searching for him. Why did Schwarz have to be so damned elusive?

Glancing down at the clock on his dashboard, the playboy noticed it was already well into the early hours of the morning - almost 3:30. He supposed he had better head back to the Koneko and get at least a *few* hours of sleep. Who knew whether or not he'd have occasion to kick some serious Schwarz ass later on. All he wanted was to wake up and find Aya perfectly unharmed and sleeping safely in his own bed. But that was just wishful thinking…

~*~

It had been nearly an hour, Aya surmised, since Nagi had left, and he was finally beginning to feel consciousness slip away from him. His time with the boy had earned him a number of new claw marks on his shoulders and thighs, but at least his ankles were now unbound.

The world was beginning to gray and blur at the edges, and the redhead almost smiled at the promise of the all-consuming darkness. If he could just die now, he wouldn't have to worry about what misfortunes might befall him tomorrow. Yes, death seemed almost a blessing compared to all he had been subject to in the past few hours alone. But Aya had already learned he was - by no stretch of the imagination - a lucky man. The only comfort he could find was that of unconsciousness.