FIC: Giving It All Away - for crescentium
Author: oracle_dreams
Recipient: crescentium
Title: Giving It All Away
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yohji Kudoh, Brad Crawford, faceless OC
Summary: Yohji faces his life long battle with control. Luckily, Crawford steps in to offer some expert advice...and assistance.
Warnings/Content: non graphic allusion to non-con
Word Count: 4319
Author's Notes: Undying gratitude to summerbutterfly for the emergency beta! I fooled with it last so all mistakes are mine. I am certain the canon placement of this will make itself clear. I hope everyone is in the mood for 'all-the-Yohji-tropes-in-one-place'. Well, not ALL of them but a few of my favorites. I hope their your favorites too!
Just once. Just once Yohji wanted this to be difficult. He wanted a girl that shot him down cold. One that wasn’t so easily swayed by cheap beer and cheesy pick-up lines. Just once he wanted a girl to see him as the deadly, dangerous killer of men that he truly was instead of dedicated playboy he just couldn’t stop himself from being. He wanted one that could see through the forced laugh and practiced smile. That once was not going to happen tonight.
She was pretty. They were always pretty. He was sure she was nice enough. Just another good girl looking to be bad for a little while. She laughed at his cheesy pickup lines - at him, not with him. But, as usual, his pretty hair, disarming smile and endearingly dorky persistence had paid off. He had barely even put effort into it. She had suggested the love motel. She was really making this much too easy.
Half way through the park she pulled him aside and cranked up the volume on her teasing kisses and flirty touches. She wanted this. She was demanding this with giggles and soft sighs and shy fingers finding their bravery in too much alcohol. She knew what she was doing. They all did. They all offered themselves up for whatever the stunning Yohji Kudoh wanted to do. And he always delivered. Always doing his damnedest to live up to their expectations.
He returned the kisses and turned them back on her, trapping her back against a wall. His hands wandered her curves as she squirmed against him, giggling his name to encourage him further. Everything about her said ‘Take me’. They always wanted him to take control. His hands slid up and over her shoulders, his fingers softly caressing her neck, his hand cradling her chin, turning her head as his lips mapped the soft skin below her ear. She barely noticed as the cradle slowly became more like a collar, the collar stiffening into a vice. His lips finally left her skin to whisper all the words she wanted to hear, warm and moist across her ear as his fingers squeezed.
She finally noticed when she could no longer draw a breath but only after realizing it wasn’t because the stunning Yohji Kudoh’s charm alone had stolen it away. But still she didn’t panic as her hand questioningly wrapped around his. He squeezed incrementally harder in response still whispering sweet platitudes that further confused her underactive sense of self preservation.
“Am I interrupting?” The low metered words held the slightest hint of amusement.
Yohji whipped his head in their direction, slitted eyes and furrowed brow transforming his face into anything but pretty, disarming or endearing. An actual snarl escaped his throat as he recognized the owner of the unexpected words.
“This is none of your fucking business!” Yohji spat out as he released his continuingly clueless date and reached for the watch at his wrist. The girl just froze as she gulped for air, eyes wide and focused solely on the dark stranger approaching them at a casual pace.
Crawford fixed his eyes on the girl as he approached, unconcerned for the increasingly threatening posture of the fellow assassin in his sights. He stopped an arm’s length away from the pair, slowly lifting his hand to poke at the bridge of his glasses.
“I suggest you run.” Crawford offered to the girl, giving her a few seconds to let her situation sink into her alcohol steeped brain. Too little too late it seemed. He leaned in a bit closer.
“Now.” He snapped out a bit louder, a bit harsher. The girl that had been frozen in his stare like a doe on the highway suddenly flinched, backed away by two steps and then finally broke into a full run.
Crawford just smirked to himself.
“What the fuck do you want?!” Yohji pulled a loop of wire free, coiling it around his bare fist. “I won’t let you…”
“Well that is definitely interesting. You won’t let ME…” The slight chuckle and lack of defensive posture only served to further enforce his naturally imposing presence. “It looks to me that I am the one not letting you. What is it exactly you were going to do, Yohji Kudoh? Who exactly is the white knight in this scenario?”
Yohji stood his ground, his eyes wide and wild, his hands beginning to tremble under the pressure of confusion, guilt, revulsion and restraint. He was effectively frozen in his indecision.
“Put the wire away, Kudoh. I’m not here for that. And I’m not here to pass judgment on your extracurricular activities.”
“Then what are you here for?” Yohji finally managed to grind out between clenched teeth without relinquishing his grip on his wire.
“I’m here to make you an offer.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” Yohji adjusted his stance, taking a small, subconscious step back.
“She was going to be number four. Did you tell yourself each one would be the last one or did you actually have an upper limit in mind for your new hobby?”
All the confused emotions warring across the blond’s face finally agreed on silent, wide eyed horror. He barely noticed how tightly he was gripping the wire, nor how easily it was slicing into his palm.
“How… how did you…” He managed a choked whisper of disbelief.
“How we know is much less troubling than how long it will take for your current employer to know. They are already mobilized, you realize.”
Yohji logically knew that, at some point, Kritiker would catch up to him. He just hadn’t put much thought into when. He eyed Crawford suspiciously, well aware he had no business placing trust in anything the man had to say.
“See? Now that makes no sense whatsoever. You want me to believe that you somehow care?” Blood began to pool along the wire, slowly sliding down its taut length. “Oh… I get it… “He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re going to rat me out unless I do something for you, right? Fuck you. I’ll take my chances.”
Crawford smiled congenially with a small dip of his head. “If only my motives were so… simple.” The emphasis on the final word could only have been intentional.
“Calling me stupid isn’t winning you any points, either, bastard.”
“What will your team do, when the order comes, Kudoh? Will they hesitate? Will they show mercy? Will they break ranks and betray Kritiker once they learn what you have become? “
Yohji was breathing hard, his head swimming with all the things he had decidedly chosen to not think about. Standing in a park discussing them with one of his sworn enemies was adding a degree of surrealism to the whole thing that made thinking at all nearly impossible.
“Again, you care why?”
“My reasons are purely practical. I would hate to see your talent go to waste. I can use you.”
At those words, Yohji’s face went nearly blank. They were nearly identical to the words that Birman had used when she had recruited him into Kritiker. They were the words that seemed to control his entire life. What he could do would always be more valuable than who he was. He always seemed to be offered a choice that turned out to be no choice at all. The deeper he spiraled into his thoughts the tighter his grip on the wire became. Blood was beginning to pool against his wrist before falling to the ground to splash against the side of his boot.
Why was he always expected to make a choice that was never a choice?
Crawford gave the blond a few moments of introspection. He didn’t expect this to go well but this was the best opportunity to approach Kudoh while he still retained enough sanity to be reclaimed. He reached into his jacket to retrieve a folded cloth and stepped up to the blond, reaching for his hand.
Yohji snapped back into focus, scrambling back a few steps in shock.
“Your hand.” Crawford extended his arm, offering the cloth. “You won’t be quite as useful without the use of it.” He nodded to his tight, bloody fist with a small smirk.
Yohji absently looked down to his hand watching blood drip freely to ground in a small puddle. He released his fist, pulling his hand closer to his face as the wire uncoiled from where it imbedded itself in his palm in two neat, clean incisions. As he watched his own blood pool in his palm, Crawford stepped closer, pulling the wire free and began wrapping his hand in clean white cloth.
Yohji flinched in a reaction that was seconds too late. Crawford held his hand steady as he finished coiling the cloth around the wounds.
“You just happened to have bandages in your jacket?”
“Of course not. “
Yohji could fill in all the things that went unsaid. The leader of Schwarz could see glimpses of the future. He knew what would happen before it happened. It was probably how he knew to be in the park, it was why he had bandages for no other reason. He could only wish that he had that sort of outline for the pathetic excuse for what he called his life.
Shit. How did he get here?
Long silent moments passed as he looked to answer his self-imposed question only to realize he had no answers. He never had and suspected that he never would. He had no answers, but the man in front of him did.
“Will I do it again?” Green eyes slowly sought out Crawford’s gaze.
Crawford paused, his stare unnerving as he held Yohji’s gaze. “You expect me to tell you what you want to hear. You’re used to that. ”
“You’re here to sell me something. Yeah, I expect a sales pitch.”
“That’s not the question you really want to ask, is it?”
“You don’t know, do you?” A wry smirk tugged his lips upward.
“The answer is yes. You will do it again no matter what you choose. I’m not here to fix you, Kudoh.” Crawford watched as Yohji’s demeanor deflated even further with the answer. “But like I said, that’s not the question you really wanted to ask.”
“I suppose you are going to tell me…”
Crawford stepped up close, well within Yohji’s personal space, much too close for comfort. “Yes. I am. You want to know why.” Yohji stepped back. “You want to know why you lost control and if you ever had it in the first place.” Yohji stepped back again. ‘You don’t know why or what brought you to this moment in time and you are too exhausted to fight for the answers anymore.” Yohji made to step back again, not only from Crawford but from his words when his back met the wall. “You’ve given up. You lost control but then again, you never really wanted it anyway.” Crawford closed the distance again, trapping Yohji against the wall. He carefully studied the blonde like an amoeba under a microscope. Yohji shifted his weight, foot to foot, as he attempted to shrink back further into the wall. “That’s what I’m offering you, Kudoh.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Control.”
Yohji’s thoughts raced back: to the women who would always expect him to take the lead, abandoning choice into his hands with their highest expectations; to Kritiker who always played at offering him a choice in his missions after forcibly recruiting him from his near deathbed; to Asuka who almost - almost - took control from his hands, who was more than comfortable making all the decisions and simply handing him his orders. He had almost been happy with her. Almost. He had lost it all after she shoved the decisions in his hands one last time and it had ended in her death. Everyone, in his entire life, was determined to force him to be a man, to take control, when all he desperately wanted was to give it all away.
“You want to control me?” That last bastion of gender biased ego was gasping for one final breathe in an effort to assert its always tentative control.
“Take control for you, Yohji… not of you. There is a difference.” Crawford stepped back returning Yohji’s personal space to him. With a breath, Crawford squared is shoulders, looking expectantly for a response.
Yohji closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to be caught all along. Kritiker brought him into this hell, so it was only fitting that it would be Kritiker and his only friends that would release him from it. In retrospect he suspected it was just a long slow suicide by Weiss, in a way. It never occurred to him that there could be another option. He was definitely fucked in the head if he was considering Schwarz as an option. He was just so tired... too tired. He didn’t want to weigh the options or make a plan. He didn’t want to decide and even worse he didn’t want to be responsible for the consequences when he fucked it up again. A single tear escaped a corner of his eye as he let out a long, heavy sigh of resignation. He just wanted it all to end.
“What is it you want me to do?” His chin dropped to his chest. He couldn’t call it defeat… he had already lost himself a long, long time ago.
A small smile crossed Crawford’s face. “Come with me.”
Yohji stared far off into the sprawl that was Tokyo. He had never seen it from this perspective. It was actually beautiful in a pure landscape and light sort of way. He took a long swig of his warming beer and then another as he realized he was trying to pinpoint where the Koneko might be down there amongst the lights. He sighed quietly to himself. It would take time to adjust to this new perspective.
When Crawford informed him they were going back to his hotel, Yohji pictured some little dive, or maybe a two star econo job. The absolute last thing he would have guessed at was valets and doormen and room service twenty stories above the city. And apparently Crawford was quite used to this, the concierge greeting him with more enthusiasm than strictly required, room service delivering his preferred beverages and late night nosh nearly at the same time as they entered the room. The utter lack of secrecy and discretion is what baffled him the most. There were a great many things he didn’t understand. He would just have to get used to the idea that he never may.
Crawford was all business when they were finally alone. His offer was most definitely too good to be true. He barely blinked when Yohji refused to work jobs involving children or innocent bystanders. His main use for Yohji seemed to be in undercover investigative work and the usual wetwork against, what he described, as Schwarz former owners. Esset was only their most current employer and the root of all evil currently infecting Japan. Crawford’s brief description of Rosenkreuz was enough for Yohji to question his sense of guilt in switching sides. None of that changed the fact that he now belonged among the monsters he once swore to kill though. It didn’t alleviate the guilt of taking innocent lives of his own volition nor the revulsion he felt for actually enjoying it. Crawford was unfazed by that. In fact, Yohji was now sure that he never would have approached him otherwise.
Crawford walked over to stand beside him, offering him a fresh beer. It was weird. Somehow, when Crawford wasn’t pointing a gun at your head or directing his team to eviscerate you, he was the picture of absolute calm. Despite the turmoil that threatened to devour his brain, Yohji actually felt relaxed in his presence. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe Crawford slipped him something. He still wouldn’t put that past him. But, deep down, he knew he was simply at peace with this decision.
They stood side by side in the window in comfortable silence. Crawford broke the silence first.
“If you wish to retrieve anything from the Koneko, I suggest you go tomorrow around 2pm. Hidaka will be alone in manning the shop. You won’t have to encounter any of them if you leave before 3. ”
“That’s going to take some getting used to… “ Yohji dipped his head with a chuckle.
Crawford smirked. “I’m easy. Schuldig is the one you need to worry about.”
“Here, I was worried about the psycho.”
“Farfarello isn’t nearly as terrifying when you aren’t on the receiving end.”
As casual and easy as Crawford was making this all seem, the guilt of betraying Weiss - not Kritiker, but his friends - was weighing on him heaviest of all.
“Can I add one last condition?”
Crawford looked to him with interest and gave a small nod.
“Don’t send me after them.”
Crawford considered the request for a few moments. It wasn’t unexpected. “You know they may come for us. Not any time soon but eventually it is bound to happen. I will expect you to defend yourself.”
“I… “At the moment, Yohji wasn’t confident that he could believe his own words. “I… can do that. I won’t target them though. I won’t give you intelligence on them either.”
Crawford’s eyes narrowed a bit. Yohji shifted uncomfortably.
“To be perfectly honest, Weiss was never a threat. I don’t think those conditions will be a problem.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yohji wanted to feel offended at that statement but he couldn’t cite a single instance to prove Crawford wrong. It wasn’t like they ever had inflated egos as a team. On their best days they could all admit that they were somewhat pathetic. That was always more of a statement on themselves personally than any sort of criticism of their job performance. No, they were usually incredibly effective at what they did. They all had their own personal justifications for the lives they took. There was some twisted moral code at work that made murder okay. There was a line. A blurry, inconsistent, constantly moving target of a line between what made Weiss and what made Schwarz. Yohji still couldn’t identify the moment that he stepped over that crucial line maybe because he was never really sure where it was in the first place.
Why did they have to trust him? Couldn’t they see? The only thing in his life that he ever committed to was being noncommittal. Every decision he made for himself turned into disaster. Omi had rescued him from himself and his bad decisions more times than he could count. Ran constantly called him out for being an idiot and he was usually right. Clueless Ken, even he knew better than to leave the important decisions to fuck up Yohji. But still, they trusted him. Just as Asuka did. He got her killed, not once but twice. He repaid her one moment of trust with a quick flick of wire and a sickening crack that would forever ring in his ears. She should never have trusted him.
The tears that escaped the corners of his eyes were nearly second nature now.
That was where he usually limited his reminiscence. As far as he was generally concerned, his life began in his late teens and there was a big blank nothing of what came before. It was easier that way. Safer. Saner. The visceral memory of the resounding crack of vertebrae dragged an uninvited memory from out of the depths along with it. Miserable cries, sudden bursts of pained screams quickly muffled, the sickening brutal slap of skin on skin… a horrifying soundtrack that played over and over for the longest hours of Yohji’s young life.
He took several shaky breathes as the tears rolled freely down his face. His eyes glazed over as he tried to subdue that which he had worked long and hard to bury so deep in his psyche that it would never again see the light of day. Crawford deftly caught the beer bottle that Yohji didn’t even feel slip free from his bandaged hand.
He remembered the weight of the gun in hands. How huge it looked and felt. How terrified he was. He remembered the voices - angry voices looking for his father who was not there. He remembered his mother pleading to let his sisters go. The hours and hours of sickening sounds of horrified panic and remorseless hate that felt like they would never end. In too many ways they never did. The gun in his hand, he still felt the weight of it, like it was pulling him down. Cold, impotent metal forever frozen in his hands…
Crawford carefully watched as a lifetime finally caught up to the blond. It was necessary. The mask on his face refused to crumble despite the attempt of bitter tears to erode its hold. It was his eyes that betrayed his pain. Crawford was well aware of that look, the one that had seen too much, the one that was intimate with the true horror that humanity had to offer. It was familiar territory that he was more than accustomed to navigating. He put a hand to Yohji’s shoulder, giving it a nudge to derail his train of thought. Just a taste for now. Just a tease. The truly ugly work was yet to come in carefully metered doses.
In that regard Crawford had lied. He full well knew that fixing Yohji would be required. But he also knew that doing so would guarantee his unwavering loyalty. He just hadn’t counted on how incredibly appealing his pain would be. How enticing those green eyes welled with tears would be. He expected his pain… but he hadn’t counted on the crying.
Yohji, Yohji, Yohji… why did you have to cry?
Slowly Yohji turned, his eyes unfocused and still shedding unbidden tears. Crawford reached out and slowly, tentatively cupped his face, his thumb chasing away the lingering trails of wetness from his cheek. Yohji leaned away but only half-heartedly so. He was confused by what he considered an affectionate gesture more than anything else. The question was clear on his face.
“You found the ‘why’, I take it.”
Yohji‘s eyes dropped to the floor. What a fucking wonderful assassin he must be… not even a full day on the new job and he’s crying like a little fucking girl. He had already disappointed everyone who had ever found their way into his life, why should now be any different. Why should Crawford’s expectations count any more than all the others to come before him?
Again, Crawford interrupted Yohji’s self-indulgent self-loathing. He stepped closer with a gentle hand to his chin and raised his face to meet his own. Yohji blinked back tears that just would not be restrained no matter how much he willed them to stop. He would be mortified if he could have summoned enough self-worth to care at this moment. The mask had broken just as something inside of him must have done. He was the living embodiment of utter, all consuming, submissive defeat.
In the span of a heartbeat, Crawford leaned in and captured his lips with a sudden, possessive kiss. Shock and confusion stole Yohji’s ability to react. After a few uncertain moments, he pulled away, a full blush rising to his cheeks.
“I… I don’t think I…” Yohji stumbled over the words, not really able to put a coherent sentence together at the moment.
“… Like men? You’ve tried?” Crawford reached to brush a stray lock of blond from his face, his gaze inexplicably growing more heated by the second.
“Yeah… it’s just… too…” Again, he could barely find the words especially while under Crawford’s hungry gaze.
“They made you take control, didn’t they?” Crawford’s hands found his waist, his fingers slowly finding the perfect hold. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Suddenly Yohji’s brain engaged with a deep intake of breathe. He was about to say -something - about orientation and questioning his manhood when the mental picture Crawford suggested silenced him, leaving his jaw slightly agape. There was no way he could possibly know that; the encounters he had, how he felt about them and why. All these sidelong thoughts tumbled through his mind only to trip over the most obvious question of all.
“Is this supposed to be part of our agreement?” Yohji cautiously questioned.
“Purely personal, I assure you.” Crawford pulled him close again with just a hint of resistance. “I keep business separate and this is definitely not required.” Brad nuzzled up against his neck, placing a small kiss there, following a tear stained trail to his throat. “You need the human contact, so I am offering. No pressure.” Crawford brushed another kiss across his lips.
Yohji’s breath caught in his throat. So many thoughts warred in his head. He wasn’t even sure if he found Crawford attractive. It never would have occurred to him to look at him this way. His quiet calm and steely confidence were incredibly seductive though. He still had a choice. Another fucking complicated life altering choice to make. He let the held breath out in a rush, more stubborn tears trailing down his cheeks. This should be easy. The choice should be clear.
“Let me take control for a while. I would be glad to do that for you.” Crawford breathed those words across his lips as he pulled his body closer, his grip tighter, his interest in this now clearly nestled against Yohji’s thigh.
Yohji let out a meek little groan of grateful submission as he pressed their lips together. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t have to. Not anymore.
Recipient: crescentium
Title: Giving It All Away
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Yohji Kudoh, Brad Crawford, faceless OC
Summary: Yohji faces his life long battle with control. Luckily, Crawford steps in to offer some expert advice...and assistance.
Warnings/Content: non graphic allusion to non-con
Word Count: 4319
Author's Notes: Undying gratitude to summerbutterfly for the emergency beta! I fooled with it last so all mistakes are mine. I am certain the canon placement of this will make itself clear. I hope everyone is in the mood for 'all-the-Yohji-tropes-in-one-place'. Well, not ALL of them but a few of my favorites. I hope their your favorites too!
Just once. Just once Yohji wanted this to be difficult. He wanted a girl that shot him down cold. One that wasn’t so easily swayed by cheap beer and cheesy pick-up lines. Just once he wanted a girl to see him as the deadly, dangerous killer of men that he truly was instead of dedicated playboy he just couldn’t stop himself from being. He wanted one that could see through the forced laugh and practiced smile. That once was not going to happen tonight.
She was pretty. They were always pretty. He was sure she was nice enough. Just another good girl looking to be bad for a little while. She laughed at his cheesy pickup lines - at him, not with him. But, as usual, his pretty hair, disarming smile and endearingly dorky persistence had paid off. He had barely even put effort into it. She had suggested the love motel. She was really making this much too easy.
Half way through the park she pulled him aside and cranked up the volume on her teasing kisses and flirty touches. She wanted this. She was demanding this with giggles and soft sighs and shy fingers finding their bravery in too much alcohol. She knew what she was doing. They all did. They all offered themselves up for whatever the stunning Yohji Kudoh wanted to do. And he always delivered. Always doing his damnedest to live up to their expectations.
He returned the kisses and turned them back on her, trapping her back against a wall. His hands wandered her curves as she squirmed against him, giggling his name to encourage him further. Everything about her said ‘Take me’. They always wanted him to take control. His hands slid up and over her shoulders, his fingers softly caressing her neck, his hand cradling her chin, turning her head as his lips mapped the soft skin below her ear. She barely noticed as the cradle slowly became more like a collar, the collar stiffening into a vice. His lips finally left her skin to whisper all the words she wanted to hear, warm and moist across her ear as his fingers squeezed.
She finally noticed when she could no longer draw a breath but only after realizing it wasn’t because the stunning Yohji Kudoh’s charm alone had stolen it away. But still she didn’t panic as her hand questioningly wrapped around his. He squeezed incrementally harder in response still whispering sweet platitudes that further confused her underactive sense of self preservation.
“Am I interrupting?” The low metered words held the slightest hint of amusement.
Yohji whipped his head in their direction, slitted eyes and furrowed brow transforming his face into anything but pretty, disarming or endearing. An actual snarl escaped his throat as he recognized the owner of the unexpected words.
“This is none of your fucking business!” Yohji spat out as he released his continuingly clueless date and reached for the watch at his wrist. The girl just froze as she gulped for air, eyes wide and focused solely on the dark stranger approaching them at a casual pace.
Crawford fixed his eyes on the girl as he approached, unconcerned for the increasingly threatening posture of the fellow assassin in his sights. He stopped an arm’s length away from the pair, slowly lifting his hand to poke at the bridge of his glasses.
“I suggest you run.” Crawford offered to the girl, giving her a few seconds to let her situation sink into her alcohol steeped brain. Too little too late it seemed. He leaned in a bit closer.
“Now.” He snapped out a bit louder, a bit harsher. The girl that had been frozen in his stare like a doe on the highway suddenly flinched, backed away by two steps and then finally broke into a full run.
Crawford just smirked to himself.
“What the fuck do you want?!” Yohji pulled a loop of wire free, coiling it around his bare fist. “I won’t let you…”
“Well that is definitely interesting. You won’t let ME…” The slight chuckle and lack of defensive posture only served to further enforce his naturally imposing presence. “It looks to me that I am the one not letting you. What is it exactly you were going to do, Yohji Kudoh? Who exactly is the white knight in this scenario?”
Yohji stood his ground, his eyes wide and wild, his hands beginning to tremble under the pressure of confusion, guilt, revulsion and restraint. He was effectively frozen in his indecision.
“Put the wire away, Kudoh. I’m not here for that. And I’m not here to pass judgment on your extracurricular activities.”
“Then what are you here for?” Yohji finally managed to grind out between clenched teeth without relinquishing his grip on his wire.
“I’m here to make you an offer.”
“I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” Yohji adjusted his stance, taking a small, subconscious step back.
“She was going to be number four. Did you tell yourself each one would be the last one or did you actually have an upper limit in mind for your new hobby?”
All the confused emotions warring across the blond’s face finally agreed on silent, wide eyed horror. He barely noticed how tightly he was gripping the wire, nor how easily it was slicing into his palm.
“How… how did you…” He managed a choked whisper of disbelief.
“How we know is much less troubling than how long it will take for your current employer to know. They are already mobilized, you realize.”
Yohji logically knew that, at some point, Kritiker would catch up to him. He just hadn’t put much thought into when. He eyed Crawford suspiciously, well aware he had no business placing trust in anything the man had to say.
“See? Now that makes no sense whatsoever. You want me to believe that you somehow care?” Blood began to pool along the wire, slowly sliding down its taut length. “Oh… I get it… “He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re going to rat me out unless I do something for you, right? Fuck you. I’ll take my chances.”
Crawford smiled congenially with a small dip of his head. “If only my motives were so… simple.” The emphasis on the final word could only have been intentional.
“Calling me stupid isn’t winning you any points, either, bastard.”
“What will your team do, when the order comes, Kudoh? Will they hesitate? Will they show mercy? Will they break ranks and betray Kritiker once they learn what you have become? “
Yohji was breathing hard, his head swimming with all the things he had decidedly chosen to not think about. Standing in a park discussing them with one of his sworn enemies was adding a degree of surrealism to the whole thing that made thinking at all nearly impossible.
“Again, you care why?”
“My reasons are purely practical. I would hate to see your talent go to waste. I can use you.”
At those words, Yohji’s face went nearly blank. They were nearly identical to the words that Birman had used when she had recruited him into Kritiker. They were the words that seemed to control his entire life. What he could do would always be more valuable than who he was. He always seemed to be offered a choice that turned out to be no choice at all. The deeper he spiraled into his thoughts the tighter his grip on the wire became. Blood was beginning to pool against his wrist before falling to the ground to splash against the side of his boot.
Why was he always expected to make a choice that was never a choice?
Crawford gave the blond a few moments of introspection. He didn’t expect this to go well but this was the best opportunity to approach Kudoh while he still retained enough sanity to be reclaimed. He reached into his jacket to retrieve a folded cloth and stepped up to the blond, reaching for his hand.
Yohji snapped back into focus, scrambling back a few steps in shock.
“Your hand.” Crawford extended his arm, offering the cloth. “You won’t be quite as useful without the use of it.” He nodded to his tight, bloody fist with a small smirk.
Yohji absently looked down to his hand watching blood drip freely to ground in a small puddle. He released his fist, pulling his hand closer to his face as the wire uncoiled from where it imbedded itself in his palm in two neat, clean incisions. As he watched his own blood pool in his palm, Crawford stepped closer, pulling the wire free and began wrapping his hand in clean white cloth.
Yohji flinched in a reaction that was seconds too late. Crawford held his hand steady as he finished coiling the cloth around the wounds.
“You just happened to have bandages in your jacket?”
“Of course not. “
Yohji could fill in all the things that went unsaid. The leader of Schwarz could see glimpses of the future. He knew what would happen before it happened. It was probably how he knew to be in the park, it was why he had bandages for no other reason. He could only wish that he had that sort of outline for the pathetic excuse for what he called his life.
Shit. How did he get here?
Long silent moments passed as he looked to answer his self-imposed question only to realize he had no answers. He never had and suspected that he never would. He had no answers, but the man in front of him did.
“Will I do it again?” Green eyes slowly sought out Crawford’s gaze.
Crawford paused, his stare unnerving as he held Yohji’s gaze. “You expect me to tell you what you want to hear. You’re used to that. ”
“You’re here to sell me something. Yeah, I expect a sales pitch.”
“That’s not the question you really want to ask, is it?”
“You don’t know, do you?” A wry smirk tugged his lips upward.
“The answer is yes. You will do it again no matter what you choose. I’m not here to fix you, Kudoh.” Crawford watched as Yohji’s demeanor deflated even further with the answer. “But like I said, that’s not the question you really wanted to ask.”
“I suppose you are going to tell me…”
Crawford stepped up close, well within Yohji’s personal space, much too close for comfort. “Yes. I am. You want to know why.” Yohji stepped back. “You want to know why you lost control and if you ever had it in the first place.” Yohji stepped back again. ‘You don’t know why or what brought you to this moment in time and you are too exhausted to fight for the answers anymore.” Yohji made to step back again, not only from Crawford but from his words when his back met the wall. “You’ve given up. You lost control but then again, you never really wanted it anyway.” Crawford closed the distance again, trapping Yohji against the wall. He carefully studied the blonde like an amoeba under a microscope. Yohji shifted his weight, foot to foot, as he attempted to shrink back further into the wall. “That’s what I’m offering you, Kudoh.” His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “Control.”
Yohji’s thoughts raced back: to the women who would always expect him to take the lead, abandoning choice into his hands with their highest expectations; to Kritiker who always played at offering him a choice in his missions after forcibly recruiting him from his near deathbed; to Asuka who almost - almost - took control from his hands, who was more than comfortable making all the decisions and simply handing him his orders. He had almost been happy with her. Almost. He had lost it all after she shoved the decisions in his hands one last time and it had ended in her death. Everyone, in his entire life, was determined to force him to be a man, to take control, when all he desperately wanted was to give it all away.
“You want to control me?” That last bastion of gender biased ego was gasping for one final breathe in an effort to assert its always tentative control.
“Take control for you, Yohji… not of you. There is a difference.” Crawford stepped back returning Yohji’s personal space to him. With a breath, Crawford squared is shoulders, looking expectantly for a response.
Yohji closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to be caught all along. Kritiker brought him into this hell, so it was only fitting that it would be Kritiker and his only friends that would release him from it. In retrospect he suspected it was just a long slow suicide by Weiss, in a way. It never occurred to him that there could be another option. He was definitely fucked in the head if he was considering Schwarz as an option. He was just so tired... too tired. He didn’t want to weigh the options or make a plan. He didn’t want to decide and even worse he didn’t want to be responsible for the consequences when he fucked it up again. A single tear escaped a corner of his eye as he let out a long, heavy sigh of resignation. He just wanted it all to end.
“What is it you want me to do?” His chin dropped to his chest. He couldn’t call it defeat… he had already lost himself a long, long time ago.
A small smile crossed Crawford’s face. “Come with me.”
Yohji stared far off into the sprawl that was Tokyo. He had never seen it from this perspective. It was actually beautiful in a pure landscape and light sort of way. He took a long swig of his warming beer and then another as he realized he was trying to pinpoint where the Koneko might be down there amongst the lights. He sighed quietly to himself. It would take time to adjust to this new perspective.
When Crawford informed him they were going back to his hotel, Yohji pictured some little dive, or maybe a two star econo job. The absolute last thing he would have guessed at was valets and doormen and room service twenty stories above the city. And apparently Crawford was quite used to this, the concierge greeting him with more enthusiasm than strictly required, room service delivering his preferred beverages and late night nosh nearly at the same time as they entered the room. The utter lack of secrecy and discretion is what baffled him the most. There were a great many things he didn’t understand. He would just have to get used to the idea that he never may.
Crawford was all business when they were finally alone. His offer was most definitely too good to be true. He barely blinked when Yohji refused to work jobs involving children or innocent bystanders. His main use for Yohji seemed to be in undercover investigative work and the usual wetwork against, what he described, as Schwarz former owners. Esset was only their most current employer and the root of all evil currently infecting Japan. Crawford’s brief description of Rosenkreuz was enough for Yohji to question his sense of guilt in switching sides. None of that changed the fact that he now belonged among the monsters he once swore to kill though. It didn’t alleviate the guilt of taking innocent lives of his own volition nor the revulsion he felt for actually enjoying it. Crawford was unfazed by that. In fact, Yohji was now sure that he never would have approached him otherwise.
Crawford walked over to stand beside him, offering him a fresh beer. It was weird. Somehow, when Crawford wasn’t pointing a gun at your head or directing his team to eviscerate you, he was the picture of absolute calm. Despite the turmoil that threatened to devour his brain, Yohji actually felt relaxed in his presence. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe Crawford slipped him something. He still wouldn’t put that past him. But, deep down, he knew he was simply at peace with this decision.
They stood side by side in the window in comfortable silence. Crawford broke the silence first.
“If you wish to retrieve anything from the Koneko, I suggest you go tomorrow around 2pm. Hidaka will be alone in manning the shop. You won’t have to encounter any of them if you leave before 3. ”
“That’s going to take some getting used to… “ Yohji dipped his head with a chuckle.
Crawford smirked. “I’m easy. Schuldig is the one you need to worry about.”
“Here, I was worried about the psycho.”
“Farfarello isn’t nearly as terrifying when you aren’t on the receiving end.”
As casual and easy as Crawford was making this all seem, the guilt of betraying Weiss - not Kritiker, but his friends - was weighing on him heaviest of all.
“Can I add one last condition?”
Crawford looked to him with interest and gave a small nod.
“Don’t send me after them.”
Crawford considered the request for a few moments. It wasn’t unexpected. “You know they may come for us. Not any time soon but eventually it is bound to happen. I will expect you to defend yourself.”
“I… “At the moment, Yohji wasn’t confident that he could believe his own words. “I… can do that. I won’t target them though. I won’t give you intelligence on them either.”
Crawford’s eyes narrowed a bit. Yohji shifted uncomfortably.
“To be perfectly honest, Weiss was never a threat. I don’t think those conditions will be a problem.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yohji wanted to feel offended at that statement but he couldn’t cite a single instance to prove Crawford wrong. It wasn’t like they ever had inflated egos as a team. On their best days they could all admit that they were somewhat pathetic. That was always more of a statement on themselves personally than any sort of criticism of their job performance. No, they were usually incredibly effective at what they did. They all had their own personal justifications for the lives they took. There was some twisted moral code at work that made murder okay. There was a line. A blurry, inconsistent, constantly moving target of a line between what made Weiss and what made Schwarz. Yohji still couldn’t identify the moment that he stepped over that crucial line maybe because he was never really sure where it was in the first place.
Why did they have to trust him? Couldn’t they see? The only thing in his life that he ever committed to was being noncommittal. Every decision he made for himself turned into disaster. Omi had rescued him from himself and his bad decisions more times than he could count. Ran constantly called him out for being an idiot and he was usually right. Clueless Ken, even he knew better than to leave the important decisions to fuck up Yohji. But still, they trusted him. Just as Asuka did. He got her killed, not once but twice. He repaid her one moment of trust with a quick flick of wire and a sickening crack that would forever ring in his ears. She should never have trusted him.
The tears that escaped the corners of his eyes were nearly second nature now.
That was where he usually limited his reminiscence. As far as he was generally concerned, his life began in his late teens and there was a big blank nothing of what came before. It was easier that way. Safer. Saner. The visceral memory of the resounding crack of vertebrae dragged an uninvited memory from out of the depths along with it. Miserable cries, sudden bursts of pained screams quickly muffled, the sickening brutal slap of skin on skin… a horrifying soundtrack that played over and over for the longest hours of Yohji’s young life.
He took several shaky breathes as the tears rolled freely down his face. His eyes glazed over as he tried to subdue that which he had worked long and hard to bury so deep in his psyche that it would never again see the light of day. Crawford deftly caught the beer bottle that Yohji didn’t even feel slip free from his bandaged hand.
He remembered the weight of the gun in hands. How huge it looked and felt. How terrified he was. He remembered the voices - angry voices looking for his father who was not there. He remembered his mother pleading to let his sisters go. The hours and hours of sickening sounds of horrified panic and remorseless hate that felt like they would never end. In too many ways they never did. The gun in his hand, he still felt the weight of it, like it was pulling him down. Cold, impotent metal forever frozen in his hands…
Crawford carefully watched as a lifetime finally caught up to the blond. It was necessary. The mask on his face refused to crumble despite the attempt of bitter tears to erode its hold. It was his eyes that betrayed his pain. Crawford was well aware of that look, the one that had seen too much, the one that was intimate with the true horror that humanity had to offer. It was familiar territory that he was more than accustomed to navigating. He put a hand to Yohji’s shoulder, giving it a nudge to derail his train of thought. Just a taste for now. Just a tease. The truly ugly work was yet to come in carefully metered doses.
In that regard Crawford had lied. He full well knew that fixing Yohji would be required. But he also knew that doing so would guarantee his unwavering loyalty. He just hadn’t counted on how incredibly appealing his pain would be. How enticing those green eyes welled with tears would be. He expected his pain… but he hadn’t counted on the crying.
Yohji, Yohji, Yohji… why did you have to cry?
Slowly Yohji turned, his eyes unfocused and still shedding unbidden tears. Crawford reached out and slowly, tentatively cupped his face, his thumb chasing away the lingering trails of wetness from his cheek. Yohji leaned away but only half-heartedly so. He was confused by what he considered an affectionate gesture more than anything else. The question was clear on his face.
“You found the ‘why’, I take it.”
Yohji‘s eyes dropped to the floor. What a fucking wonderful assassin he must be… not even a full day on the new job and he’s crying like a little fucking girl. He had already disappointed everyone who had ever found their way into his life, why should now be any different. Why should Crawford’s expectations count any more than all the others to come before him?
Again, Crawford interrupted Yohji’s self-indulgent self-loathing. He stepped closer with a gentle hand to his chin and raised his face to meet his own. Yohji blinked back tears that just would not be restrained no matter how much he willed them to stop. He would be mortified if he could have summoned enough self-worth to care at this moment. The mask had broken just as something inside of him must have done. He was the living embodiment of utter, all consuming, submissive defeat.
In the span of a heartbeat, Crawford leaned in and captured his lips with a sudden, possessive kiss. Shock and confusion stole Yohji’s ability to react. After a few uncertain moments, he pulled away, a full blush rising to his cheeks.
“I… I don’t think I…” Yohji stumbled over the words, not really able to put a coherent sentence together at the moment.
“… Like men? You’ve tried?” Crawford reached to brush a stray lock of blond from his face, his gaze inexplicably growing more heated by the second.
“Yeah… it’s just… too…” Again, he could barely find the words especially while under Crawford’s hungry gaze.
“They made you take control, didn’t they?” Crawford’s hands found his waist, his fingers slowly finding the perfect hold. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Suddenly Yohji’s brain engaged with a deep intake of breathe. He was about to say -something - about orientation and questioning his manhood when the mental picture Crawford suggested silenced him, leaving his jaw slightly agape. There was no way he could possibly know that; the encounters he had, how he felt about them and why. All these sidelong thoughts tumbled through his mind only to trip over the most obvious question of all.
“Is this supposed to be part of our agreement?” Yohji cautiously questioned.
“Purely personal, I assure you.” Crawford pulled him close again with just a hint of resistance. “I keep business separate and this is definitely not required.” Brad nuzzled up against his neck, placing a small kiss there, following a tear stained trail to his throat. “You need the human contact, so I am offering. No pressure.” Crawford brushed another kiss across his lips.
Yohji’s breath caught in his throat. So many thoughts warred in his head. He wasn’t even sure if he found Crawford attractive. It never would have occurred to him to look at him this way. His quiet calm and steely confidence were incredibly seductive though. He still had a choice. Another fucking complicated life altering choice to make. He let the held breath out in a rush, more stubborn tears trailing down his cheeks. This should be easy. The choice should be clear.
“Let me take control for a while. I would be glad to do that for you.” Crawford breathed those words across his lips as he pulled his body closer, his grip tighter, his interest in this now clearly nestled against Yohji’s thigh.
Yohji let out a meek little groan of grateful submission as he pressed their lips together. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t have to. Not anymore.