Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Zweiter Chancen ❯ The beginning of the end... ( Chapter 9 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

*****9*****


(How can he be so completely different merely by losing a handful of years? Same hair, same face. Only younger, with kindness in his eyes instead of deceit. He seems like a completely different person, given a second chance, without having to worry about the past, Schwartz, or dealing with his powers. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is...)

Wrapped in the first rays of a new day, Ran lays in bed with Emery curled close against him, much as they had been the morning before. Although Emery was rather close to Ran when the violet-eyed assassin first woke up, this time it was a conscious effort to pull him the smallest bit closer.

On the surface, no romantic intentions even crossed Ran’s mind; his gesture was done out of sympathy and support. Or...maybe...he just likes the feeling of someone warm and peaceful beside him.

(He looks so innocent this way...eyes closed...hair in a million different directions...urg! What am I thinking? I sound as if I’m practically mooning over the boy. He’s just so...changed. Young...shy...but still bold and stubborn when he needs to be. That must be it, why I was able to change my mind about him so suddenly: he reminds me of *me* at his age. Oh, God, if you’re really up there listening, let him keep this second chance...)

Carefully, Ran slips his arms from around Emery’s shoulders, and gets out of bed. It’s still a little early, but as with the start of every new work week, he never seems to tire of getting a head start.

Emery, oddly enough, is awake as well. He has been for quite awhile now, but didn’t want to disrupt his companion. Now that Ran has found his way into the bathroom to get ready for the day, Emery allows himself to stir, blinking up at the stark white ceiling.

(I can’t believe it.) he grins, stretching out on the bed. (I never thought we’d get along well enough for Aya to say such nice things about me...)


*****


“What do you wanna eat this beautiful Monday morning, KenKen?”

“Am I still dreaming, or is Kudo actually up and cooking breakfast for once in his life.” the groggy brunette in question mumbles to Omi, who is slowly sauntering into the kitchen behind him.

Indeed, Youji is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with apron on and eggs cooking in the frying pan. Ran is already sitting at the table, and soon they are all seated around for breakfast, waiting for their last member to show up.

“Ohaiyo, minna!” Emery smiles, greeting the others, and taking in a big whiff of Youji’s many delicacies. “Mmm, all of that smells so good, Youji-san. I’m starved!”

“At least someone knows how to appreciate my hard work.” Youji comments smugly, placing different plates on the table filled with waffles, eggs, bacon, and even pile after pile of toast. “This is a rare occurrence, so eat up boys. The next time I’m up this early on a Monday, it’ll be 20 below in July.”

Most of the crew laughs heartily at the joke, with even stoic Ran smiling faintly through his shadowy expression.

Scooping up a huge helping of scrambled eggs, Omi looks on ravenously. “What’s the occasion, Yotan? You’ve outdone yourself.”

“It’s Emery’s one week anniversary, Omiitchi. I felt like celebrating.”

Emery blushes deeply, nearly spilling syrup onto the table instead of his king-sized waffle. The boys really are like a family, to each other, and more and more towards him. He may not remember his real family, or even the makeshift one he had in Schwartz, but he understands the comfort of having people care about him merely by being in the company of four very unique young men.

It doesn’t take long before all of them are digging into their large meals, so there isn’t much opportunity for conversation, at first. For obvious reasons, this doesn’t last long.

“Gee, Youji, when’s the last time you were out on a date?” Ken inquires with a crooked grin. “You’re turning into Susie Homemaker around here.”

Youji tosses him a glare. (At least I’ve actually *been* on a date before.)

Looking up from his mound of food, Emery chuckles a little under his breath. “Really, Youji-san, he was just joking.”

Somewhat thrown off, Youji looks up as well. “I didn’t say anything. Comments like that should not be dignified with a response.”

“But Youji-san - “

(It has been a while since Youji had a date.) Omi observes. (I hope he isn’t developing a crush on Emery.)

“Of course he isn’t!” Emery shouts defensively. The last thing he wants is for the others to find out about that unfortunate incident he and Youji had shared earlier in the week, and talking about crushes could quickly lead to that topic.

“Of course...who isn’t...what?” Ken asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Youji. Developing a...a...well...”

The others eye him warily, with Omi nearly dropping his glass of milk. “What are you talking about, Emmy-chan?” the young blonde questions, sounding quite suspicion. After all, it was his thoughts that had been mysteriously read into.

Taking note of so many piercing gazing sizing him up, Emery decides to dismiss it. “Sumimasen. It’s nothing. Just thinking out loud again.”

A mild silence settles, but this time it is not because their mouths are full. Emery feels as if a thousand eyes are on him instead of eight, but considering the analytical eight that are on him, it isn’t surprising that they are powerful enough to unsettle him.

(That was weird.) Ken ponders, trying to be less obvious about keeping an eye on what Emery is doing. (Emery couldn’t be reading our minds again could he?)

(It would be way freaky if the kid started getting his powers back.) Youji thinks next, his thoughts mirroring Ken’s all too well. (Who knows what would happen if he did...)

(He might start becoming Schuldrich again.) Omi worries, trembling a little as he reaches for the carton of milk. (If that happened, would he - )

(...turn on us. Just as I feared, he might change in the blink of an eye.) Ran scowls, staring intently at his unfinished meal, and following suit with his teammates in train of thought. (If that happens, everything will change. We may have to - )

“Stop it!” Emery cries, pushing back from the table, and clasping his hands to his ears. “Stop talking as if I’m not here. I don’t have my powers back, and I am never going to turn into Schuldrich again. Stop saying that I will!”

Terrified silence. None of the others know quite how to approach this, because the very fear on all of their minds is proving to be real.

“Emery...” Ran begins in a low voice, attempting to speak as rationally as he can. “We didn’t say anything. None of us have said a word. If you heard all of that, then reading our minds is exactly what you were doing.”

Slowly, Emery’s hands fall away from his ears and he looks up into the worried faces of his new friends. Is it true? Can he actually hear what they are thinking...?

(Oh, Emmy-chan, I wish we were wrong.)

(Don’t worry, chibi, we’ll think of something. We won’t let you turn into that again.)

(Somehow things’ll work out, Em. I’m sure they will.)

(I want to believe in you, even after every harsh word and cruel thought I’ve had of you. I want to believe that it’s possible for someone like us to have a second chance.)

Emery heard it all. And all without a single one of them opening their mouths.

“Oh, God...I really *can* hear you...” he whispers, fighting the tears springing to his eyes. “What does this mean...?”

“Maybe...” Omi tries. “...maybe you should stay inside today, Emmy-chan. You know, so we can - “

“Hide me?” Emery jumps in, suddenly defensive. “Keep me inside so I don’t run away or try anything. Is that it?”

“No, not at all. We’re just saying - “

“You don’t trust me. One stupid sign and you instantly look at me like one of the bad guys again.” Angrily, Emery stands from the table and begins to back away, flicking his eyes nervously back and forth between the others. “This doesn’t mean anything. Who cares if I catch a few stray thoughts. I am *not* Schuldrich! I am never going to be him again. Do you hear me?! I’m not Schuldrich....I’m not...I...”

Desperately, he succumbs to those relentless tears, crying helplessly in front of the four people he would least want to see him in such a weak and pitiable state.

Omi is the first to rise from the table and rush to Emery’s side. At first, he is afraid his young friend will push him away, but the need for comfort is stronger than stubborn indifference and foolish anger. Soon, the others surround them, all offering encouragement, but despite Emery’s calmed temper, he still refuses to be treated any differently. He cannot accept that the wonderful life he has barely begun to know may be torn away from him, even if the others assure him that nothing could ever do that.

Against all of their better judgments, they allow Emery to work in the shop as had been originally planned before the morning’s incident. Throughout the entire day, everyone is on edge. The members of Weiss instinctively watch Emery like a hawk, and Emery grows more and more defensive each time he catches them doing it.

He can hear what they are thinking, what the customers are thinking, and as much as it unnerves him, he refuses to accept that it has any true meaning. There must be some other explanation. Maybe it’s just a side affect from what originally happened to him and no other traces of his former self will ever show themselves.

Wishful thinking? Not to Emery.

“Hey, Em, maybe you should head to bed early tonight.” Ken casually suggests after a rather tense dinner. “Ya know, get some extra sleep. It’s been a long day.”

(...and you really need to sleep off this denial gig you’ve been playing.)

“I am not in denial!” Emery snaps, making Ken cringe with the realization that he had been read. Thankfully, Emery has a realization as well after hearing the echo of his own harsh and venomous tone: maybe Ken is right. “Gomen. Sleep is a very good idea. I’ve been snapping at everyone all day. I’ll be myself in the morning. Really. I promise I won’t wake up as anyone but me.”

And off he goes down the hallway to bed, with all four assassins looking after him. What can they possibly say or do? What happens to Emery is completely in Fate’s hands, and there is nothing they can do to influence the outcome. Especially now. Whatever is going to happen next, it’s going to happen soon.


*****


Bumps in the ceiling. Little white bumps painted over and worn away by time. Long ago, they were applied to the ceiling with great care to add a little Western influence, but now they are merely an object of fascination to a very tired young boy who is unable to sleep.

(Maybe if I count them I’ll bore myself into a stupor.) Emery groans internally, rolling onto his side.

Tonight he is sleeping alone, in his own room at the end of the hall. Sadly, after only two nights with Ran, he can’t seem to get comfortable sleeping without someone else there. That is why he is still awake. That, and the fact that an occasional random thought from one of the boys, or from some straggler out on the street, filters into his mind and wakes him up again, usually right before he is about to drift off.

(How did I live this way when I was...*him*? How did I function? I can’t even sleep. Maybe it’s all luck. Maybe I just have to wait for that perfect moment when sleep and silence strike me at the same time. Yeah, that’ll happen. In about five hours.)

Emery shivers. The room has been steadily growing colder for quite some time now. He didn’t want to let it bother him, but if his toes turn any bluer, he’s afraid they might fall off.

“It’s so cold.” he mumbles aloud, sitting up and pulling the covers tightly around him. “I should shut the window.” Instantly, his eyes move to his left. The single window in his room is wide open, with the curtains blowing ever so slightly with the breeze. Emery is about to get out of bed to close it, when he suddenly realizes something he hadn’t thought of before. “Wait...when did I *open* the window...?”

Beat.

“You didn’t.”

Out of the darkness, as if created from its very depths, an unknown figure steps up beside the bed, closer to Emery, and extends a hand towards his face. Emery attempts to scream, but before it can be fully formed, that hands clamps tightly over his mouth to silence him, and the figure is suddenly on top of the bed, on top of him, and he is pinned to the mattress.

The first thing Emery notices about this intruder is the feel of those fingers on his face. They are rough and heavily scarred, more scarred than you would expect hands to be. The next thing he notices...is gold. A single, golden eye boring into him through the veil of shadows in the room. His vision is already somewhat adjusted to the darkness, but this strange and frightening man is so close to him, that eye is all he can see.

“I wouldn’t scream if I were you.” warns that same deep voice, betraying a unique accent, unlike his own, and unlike that of a native to Japan. It sounds vaguely familiar. “I’ll have to hurt you if you scream, ‘cause if you do, those stained angels will come charging in to rescue you and spoil all our fun.”

Emery swallows hard, willing himself not to cry or panic. He can feel that man’s breath on his face when he speaks, and the weight of his body on top of him is a violation of intimacy he fears more than he feared Youji that fateful night.

Forced to look at his attacker, Emery is beginning to focus more as his vision adjusts further. It isn’t that the man has only one eye, but that the other is covered with an eyepatch. Truthfully, Emery is rather surprised it has taken him so long to be able to see what the man looks like, because his skin is so white it practically glows. His hair matches that white almost to the point of being silver, and the scars Emery can feel on that hand are nothing compared to the countless others covering his body.

“Do you promise not to scream?” he asks softly, never quite looking Emery in the eyes, but looking him over with scrutinizing precision. “Nod your pretty little head for me, and I’ll move my hand. Refuse, or lie to me, and I’ll break your neck. Understand?”

Unwittingly, Emery clenches his eyes shut in desperation and fear. There are four very brave and strong young men who have spent years fighting only yards away from him, but if he calls out to them, he will be dead before they even wake up.

Opening his eyes, Emery stares fearfully back into that tawny eye...and nods.

“Good boy.” the man whispers with a frightening curl of his scarred lips. As promised, he removes his hand as well. “Now...hold still for me...”

Emery’s stomach lurches forward; all of this feels far to reminiscent of what nearly happened a few nights before, only this time it will be far worse, because help will never come.

The stranger’s body is fully on top of his own, but the actions that follow are not quite what he expects. The albino - as Emery is sure he must be - nuzzles oddly into his hair, sniffing up along his neck, and passes his gaze over every inch, studying his face most of all. At last, he looks deep into Emery’s tear-filled blue eyes for the first time, and appearing satisfied, tilts his head curiously to the side.

“It’s you alright” he smiles faintly. “I didn’t believe him, but I’m sure it’s you. How did you become so young?”

This is all so strange, Emery’s doesn’t quite know what to say. So, he merely says the truth. “I don’t know. I woke up last week, and I was like this. I don’t remember anything.”

“Not anything?” the albino repeats, obviously curious. “That’s why you’re acting so strange. You don’t know who I am...do you?”

Slowly, Emery shakes his head. “I have an idea, though.” he adds, somewhat reluctantly.

“Really?” the intruder smirks, leaning in closer. “Then who am I?”

Gulp. “...Farfarello...?”

Grin. “And what do you know about Farfarello.”

“He...likes to hurt people...”

“Very good...” Farfarello breathes, brushing his pale cheek against Emery’s. “...but I won’t hurt you. Not yet.”

“...you won’t...?”

Farfarello shakes his head, though Emery can barely see it with that head buried in the crook of his neck.

Not surprisingly, Emery is not free from all fear after that promise. He is positively paralyzed. Farfarello’s hands are not ravaging him as Youji’s had, but the presence of him so close is far more unsettling.

“What...are you going to do to me...if you’re not going to hurt me...?” Emery questions, with understandable apprehension.

“What are you expecting?” Farfie questions back, before teasingly running his tongue up along Emery’s neck.

Filled with a whole new sense of fear, Emery’s whole body tenses, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Not *that* I take it.” Farf laughs.

(Can you still read my mind?)

“...yes...”

(Then you should be able to figure out for yourself what I’m going to do.)

“I don’t wanna look.”

(Why not? Too afraid?)

“...very...”

“You should be.” Farfarello warns aloud. “I’m dangerous. I’ve killed even more people than...*you* have. Hehehe. The question is, what should I do with you? I won’t tell Crawford where you are. Nagi didn’t, so why should I?”

(Nagi...?) Emery thinks to himself. (He’s the one...the one I saw the other day.)

“With the old you it was a very different type of fun we’d have together. I don’t think you’d be up for that, though. You have the stench of one of *them* now. Like Weiss. I’ll have to think very hard for the right punishment for you. But in the meantime...”

Emery blanches as a long dagger with a crescent-shaped handle comes into view and then disappears almost as swiftly. A moment later, he feels its cold steel against his stomach, his shirt lifted up somewhat now, and he honestly doesn’t know what he can do to protect himself.

“Remember...” Farfie whispers. “...don’t scream...”

Quick, but far from painless, Farfarello slashes the dagger twice against his skin. The cuts are shallow enough to not be serious, but deep enough to scar, and definitely deep enough to bleed.

It takes all of Emery’s strength not to scream, but what is truly frightening, in his mind anyway, is what Farfarello does next.

Slithering his way down Emery’s body, Farfarello brings himself face to face with the cuts on the boy’s stomach. In disgusted shock, Emery’s watches as he laps at the blood, a sensation that coils in the young German’s stomach. The cuts are so low, nearly down between his hips, that when Farfarello gives a final kiss to the wound he struggles with all his remaining strength to keep himself from reacting.

“X marks the prize.” Farfie sneers up at him, for an X is exactly what the marks form. “I’ll be back for you.”

The wind howls somewhere close by, the curtains still billowing in the breeze’s wake, and suddenly, Farfarello is gone.

Emery springs from the bed, rushing to close the window, and latches it shut without a second thought. How he managed to will himself to action so quickly, even he doesn’t quite understand. Now, however, the question remains: does he tell Weiss what happened...?

Maybe tomorrow. Right now, he is far too tired, and voices in his head by damned, he is going to get some sleep. After washing out his wound and apply a bandage he found amongst mounds of others under the bathroom sink, he is satisfied enough to return to bed.

Nightmares drug him off to Ran’s room in a flash, but a real life terror keeps him in his own. What is the world coming to? Or rather, what is Emery becoming?